The Causes of War (2)
"Um... I have carefully reviewed the proposal Miss Margarethe submitted, but..."
I dragged Margarethe along to see the Wright brothers. Since they were the foremost aviation experts of this era, I hoped they would talk some sense into her. Surely, Margarethe would give up on her crazy idea and quietly take a boat or a train to Stockholm. To put it politely, airplanes in this era were practically made of paper. They didn't need to be hit by stray bullets from the ground or suffer a bird strike to go down. They just fell out of the sky. For no apparent reason, they would just plummet!
Besides, the flight range of airplanes in this era was, what, 200 to 250 kilometers at best? And even that was the result of endless modifications after deploying them in Greece. Of course, those modifications drastically reduced the weight, resulting in the minor defect of turning them into literal paper airplanes. Even with that weight reduction, they could barely cross the English Channel.
After reviewing Margarethe's plan, the Wright brothers reacted thus:
"This is absolutely brilliant, Miss Margarethe!"
"Excuse me?" I blurted.
"Of course, there are technical difficulties. One might even call it a challenge bordering on the impossible."
Unable to contain his excitement, Orville Wright tore a map off the wall and spread it across the table.
"Vienna, Prague, Dresden, Berlin, Kiel, Copenhagen, Linköping, Stockholm. If we make layovers at these points, it's not entirely impossible. Though it will require a substantial amount of funding."
"Six layovers? Are you out of your mind?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"We can reduce the number of stops! We have the newly developed Wright-Hungary No. 3. I can confidently say it's an ultra-luxurious aircraft with its range extended to a whopping 400 kilometers."
"I read about that in the newspapers. Didn't it just drop straight out of the sky mid-flight?"
"Well, it does have a few minor issues regarding stability," Orville admitted.
"Sigh..."
I had momentarily forgotten. Anyone trying to fly in the early 20th century couldn't possibly be sane. They were the historical equivalents of people who climb skyscrapers barehanded or skydive from the stratosphere—the exact kind of daredevils Red Bull would absolutely adore. There was no way such a man wouldn't feel his heart race at the mad prospect of traveling over a thousand kilometers in a plane with a range of barely 200 kilometers. I gave up on Orville Wright, whose eyes were sparkling with the zeal of a mad scientist. My only hope now lay with Wilbur, the business-minded brother!
"The biggest obstacle to expanding our business has always been 'safety,'" Wilbur mused. "If Representative Stahl and Miss Margarethe fly together, the promotional effect will be unparalleled."
I glared at Wilbur with utter betrayal. Ignoring my death stare, Wilbur pressed on.
"Furthermore, the title of 'first' always generates massive buzz. What do you think, Miss Margarethe? Even if you only fly for twenty kilometers, becoming the Empire's very first female aviator..."
I clutched my head. Adding my past life to this one, I had lived for over forty years. I suppose dying now wouldn't technically count as dying young, would it?
They estimated the journey would take about one to two weeks. Even if we returned by normal means, the trip there was bound to be a living hell. I didn't even need to experience the ride to know how dreadful the comfort level of an early airplane would be. Worse, I would have to live in constant, mortal terror for that entire duration. Throwing my social standing to the wind, I threw a tantrum and demanded a compromise.
"Mr. Wright. Instead of going the whole way by plane, why don't we compromise on just flying through the air?"
"Flying through the air...?"
"Airships! The military has been showing interest in airships lately, so it might be wise to look into that!"
"But Representative Stahl, didn't you previously state that airships were outdated monstrosities destined for the scrapheap of history?"
"Ah, surely I misspoke! When you think about it, aren't their speed, flight duration, and payload capacity absolutely overwhelming?!"
"..."
Yes, let's compromise. Even if airships would become obsolete in thirty years, they were still highly viable by World War I standards. Sure, their payload capacity was inferior to maritime transport, and their stability couldn't match land transport. And yes, helium was prohibitively expensive, and the lack of advanced technology forced the use of highly explosive hydrogen. But they could still be used, at least in a limited capacity, right? At the very least, when it came to long-distance speed, airships reigned supreme over any other mode of transportation available, including early planes. Yes, absolutely.
Thanks to my stubborn resistance, we managed to swap out parts of the route for an airship. Margarethe threw herself into studying flight controls, while I diligently studied map reading and navigation. After all, I was tasked with riding in the back seat as her navigator.
The Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative Aviation Company mobilized its entire administrative apparatus to prepare the relay planes, runways, and handle all the complex bureaucratic and diplomatic arrangements in record time. Finally, the day of our departure for Stockholm arrived.
"I'll take a carriage ahead to the outskirts of Vienna. Miss Margarethe, please fly safely."
Suddenly, Margarethe grabbed my wrist.
"Representative Stahl. I will be piloting, so please get in the back seat."
"Pardon?"
If this had happened at a high-society gala, it would have set a romantic mood, and I would have basked in the envious, admiring gazes of the crowd. But this sudden proposal sent a cold shiver straight down my spine, soaking me in a cold sweat.
"Um... as far as I know, Miss Margarethe, you've only been learning to fly for about a month."
"I'm highly confident in my driving, though."
"Are cars and airplanes even remotely the same?!"
"I am well aware that you, Representative Stahl, are sending fighter pilots to the battlefields of Greece and Hungary."
"They aren't... fighter planes, they're agricultural survey planes."
"Regardless, you aren't sending them to their deaths. And if I pilot the plane with you on board, it will serve as an excellent demonstration of its safety."
I couldn't refute her logic. I shot a desperate look at the Wright brothers, who were busy preparing the aircraft. They merely nodded back, offering silent gestures of encouragement. Should I just fire them? Regardless of my inner turmoil, I was dragged along like a calf led to the slaughterhouse and forced into the rear seat behind Margarethe. Soon, with a deafening roar, the plane took off.
"Aaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaah!"
"Representative Stahl, you're a grown man! Please, be quiet!"
"Let me off! Let me down!"
Most aviation accidents occur during takeoff and landing. Feeling as though I were strapped to a modern drop tower ride, I screamed bloody murder for the first five minutes of the ascent. Only after we leveled out in the sky did I finally manage to calm down.
"You're being too loud!" Margarethe yelled.
"What? I can't hear you over the engine!"
"I said, your screaming is louder than the engine, Representative Stahl!"
"Oh..."
Once the flight stabilized, a wave of intense embarrassment washed over me. Sigh... Even though Margarethe couldn't see me from her position, the sheer humiliation made me hang my head low for the rest of the flight.
After flying about twenty kilometers, I conveyed our current position to Margarethe using a notepad and hand gestures. Margarethe nodded and prepared to land in an open field.
If I act like a terrified coward again, I'll never live it down! I'm a man, damn it. I have my pride to protect.
Once again, the moment closest to death approached. I gripped the frame of my seat and clenched my teeth. Don't scream, don't scream...
The moment our plane angled forty-five degrees toward the ground—
"Huh?"
Through the roaring wind, I heard Margarethe's panicked voice.
"Why? What's happening? Explain it to me!" I yelled.
But my voice was completely drowned out by the engine and the rushing wind. For some reason, Margarethe gripped the control stick with absolute, white-knuckled concentration. Then, the plane began to pitch and roll violently from side to side.
"W-W-What's wrong with this thing?! Do something!"
"Be quiet! I need to concentrate!"
"W-W-Why do you need to concentrate?! Fix it! Aaaaaaaah!"
"We're landing, so hold on tight!"
"Save meeeeeee!"
With a series of violent bumps and rattles, the plane made a rather unstable landing on the field. But against all odds, we landed safely. I was alive. Whew, hah, whew, hah! Ah, life is beautiful! Landing was infinitely more terrifying than taking off!
However, once my racing heart settled and I saw Margarethe turning around to look at the back seat with an utterly dumbfounded expression, I instantly realized what I had done.
"...Ah."
I hurriedly peeked down at my trousers. Paralyzed by the fear of death, I wasn't sure if my bladder had betrayed me. Fortunately, I hadn't made a mess. Regardless...
I hastily climbed down from the plane, clutching my trembling legs. But having exhausted all my physical energy, the sudden rush of relief caused my knees to buckle completely. Just as I was about to collapse, Margarethe quickly grabbed my coat and pulled me up.
"T-Thank you."
"It is truly a blessing that we changed part of the itinerary to an airship," she remarked.
I looked at Margarethe, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. Interestingly, the biological processes of negative emotions like anxiety and fear are identical to those of attraction and excitement. In psychology, they call this the 'suspension bridge effect,' don't they?
Hmm, intriguing. The Steel King certainly raised a fine daughter.
The eccentric exploit of Marx Stahl and Margarethe Wittgenstein spread like wildfire across Europe. At this time, passenger aviation was still a concept relegated to science fiction. For one, speed was an issue. While 21st-century aircraft flew at near-supersonic speeds, boasting incredible velocity and short travel times, early aviation suffered from supply issues, weather vulnerabilities, and fundamental engine flaws. In many ways, flying was far slower than traveling by land or sea. At best, only airships could travel stably over long distances without being restricted by terrain. Consequently, the practical use of airplanes in this era was strictly limited to 'agricultural surveying.'
Yet, Stahl's stunt shook the entire continent.
"They flew from Vienna to Stockholm in an airplane? Why on earth? Do they not value their lives?"
"Look at this article. It says that although current planes can only fly 200 kilometers, their range and speed will increase exponentially, making them the next major mode of transportation."
"Oh, come on. No way."
"Why not? Who knows? Just ten years ago, we couldn't even dream of airplanes or airships. Maybe one day we'll all be commuting to work in our own private planes."
"Now you're pushing it."
"Am I?"
All of Europe buzzed with talk of Stahl and Margarethe's flight. The "Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative Aviation Company" logo emblazoned on Stahl's plane became an overnight sensation.
"Before the war, the flight range was barely 100 kilometers, and it doubled in just that short span of time?"
"At this rate, reaching 3,000 or 4,000 kilometers will happen in the blink of an eye."
"I always envied those who bought railway stocks when trains first came out... I cannot miss this opportunity!"
Advanced nations like France, Germany, Great Britain, and the United States had already initiated their own aviation industries, successfully developing aircraft with domestic technology. Although they had started only a few years ahead of Stahl, the first-mover advantage in heavy industries like this was paramount. Thanks to Stahl's daring stunt, the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative Aviation Company instantly leaped ahead, leaving the aviation companies of other advanced nations in its dust.
"When will the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative Aviation Company go public?!"
"The Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative Aviation Company operates on behalf of state interests, so even if we were to issue shares, we cannot easily put them on the open market."
"Then how are we supposed to invest?!"
"Establish a subsidiary to receive investments, or at least issue more bonds! We want to invest in the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative!"
"Can we invest by joining as cooperative members and paying capital contributions?"
Investors who recognized the immense potential of aviation poured astronomical sums of capital not only into the aviation company but also into its parent organization, the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative. This massive influx of capital managed to resolve the cooperative's financial stability issues—which had constantly worried Stahl and Hitler—as well as the lingering aftermath of the Hungarian agricultural crisis. It was a masterstroke by Margarethe, who had clearly inherited her father's predatory business instincts.
This was not merely an economic triumph. Margarethe's flight began to send shockwaves through the political landscape as well.
"Women are human beings just like men! Why is suffrage granted only to men?!"
"Women are not machines meant only for laundry and cooking! Look at Margarethe! A woman can be a far braver warrior than any man!"
Overnight, Margarethe became a superstar of the feminist movement. Previously known only as the daughter of Karl Wittgenstein, famous primarily for her portrait painted by the renowned Austrian artist Gustav Klimt, Margarethe's face now graced the front pages of newspapers, earning her a level of fame that rivaled Joan of Arc. Naturally, the older generation of male politicians attempted to counter these claims with weak, evasive arguments.
"This achievement belongs to the Wright brothers and the Cooperative's aircraft. We must not place excessive focus on Margarethe as an individual."
"Indeed. Besides, wouldn't the result have been exactly the same if a man had been sitting in that seat?"
However, the public backlash was swift.
"What are you talking about?! Representative Stahl was on that very same plane, and they say his legs buckled so badly he collapsed the moment he stepped off!"
"C-Cough!"
"I even heard he wet his pants!"
It is said that much later, upon returning to Vienna and hearing the bizarre rumors circulating about him, Marx Stahl beat his chest in deep regret, utterly lamenting the day he ever set foot on that airplane.