 A small church almost, toppled it, dust motes held in sunlight, in vapor, patterning the floor, these decorated walls, glazed in green and yellow ochre, blue and hospital white, tiles glistening, clean and smooth and cold, a wooden floor warmed by steam and sun, saturated with oil and dust, with a centuries worth and more of sounds and smells, absorbed. These doors, these round arched windows are the same, the same as when they downed tools. That day in 1968, when they stopped the pumps, left the engines cooling, let the fires die and shut the doors. A silence never heard since 1894, he said, who remembered it clearly. The old engines had breathed their last, the pumping station was dead. The same doors flung open again to welcome a draft and a crowd waiting to witness the old engines back in steam. Here the past is still the present. You can see it, hear it, smell it, taste it. Still alive, breath deep, their names are north and south. Wind monsters cast in iron, steel rods, copper pipes, pumping engines, soul survivors of their kind. Did they arrive by river, rail or road? Who saw them coming, piece by piece, vivid and strange like a fair, immaculate they are, bright and shining red, cylinders clad in wood, sturdy as a boat deck, brass trims, clean and glossy as a horse harness and something like animals they are, living beings, groomed for working and for show, female always they are, capricious characters, cursed, cursed cajoled and coseted by turns, responding best to patience and respect to love. At night time, alone together, the driver, the naked bulb, shadows moving across the tiled walls, standing, watching and listening to the steady heartbeat. Listen hard, here are the voices, past and present mingled, echoing off the walls, resonating down the years, men shouting to be heard. The stokers who worked here once, lived here in small and sooty houses, a family almost, bound by steam and smoke and sweat, vile, he said, who remembered it clearly. Like hell on earth, the old destructors fed the steam with the town's own rubbish, swept and scavenged, shoveled into gaping furnaces, always wanting more. The waste of it, the smell, the rotting reek of it, the heat of it, the never-ending burning of it, prodigious, unremitting labour, he said, who remembered it clearly. This hellish work consumed men's lives, who bargained daily with the devil, devoured them. Listen here to the engine breathing, to the crank wheel rocking back and forth, not turning, to the two-and-fro of the pistons, to the pump rods thumping, to the strokes, the buffering paws, to the engine's strokes, steady and calm, until they're not. Here the engine gasping, wheezing, banging, thudding, steam spitting, hissing, blowing, the frenzy, till she finds the rhythm of her breath. Savour them here, these almost forgotten smells, before they disappear for good. Look, greasy smells that live on the tongue and throat, low, humid smells, wet wood, cold soot and sour steam, hot oil, acrid tallow, coke and clinker, sulphurous, choking, filthy ash, decay, and always, deep in the well below, the sewage pumping, pumping, pumping, the relentless tide rising and falling, the sweet and sour stench of it, lingering on skin and hair and clothes. Yes, breathe deep and remember them all. Cambridge Museum of Technology 2023 Open Cambridge, unwrapping creativity, back in steam, sounds and senses, exploring our industrial heritage, a prose poem inspired by Steam Days at Cambridge Museum of Technology. Poem Written and spoken by Dr Sarah Baylis, commissioned for the Museum, sounds recorded at the Museum, mixed and orchestrated by Lewis Todd, video and photography, The Wilcox Collective, commissioned for the Museum, Aaron Greenwood, Mike Jeske, David Hodgkin, donated to the Museum. Steam Days, created by volunteers, thanks to the Steam Team, facilitated by museum staff and trustees, edited and produced by Dr Gordon Davis for Cambridge Museum of Technology. References, Reed and Knell 1996, Working with Steam, Unwin 2006, The Tall Chimney, Oduropa, our senses, our gateways to the past, with special thanks to Victoria and Michelle. Archives Acknowledgements, Britain From Above, Historic England, Cambridge Archives, The Cambridgeshire Collection, this edition produced 2023, under Creative Commons Licence, Attribution, Cambridge Museum of Technology, Non-Commercial, Visit, volunteer, donate, subscribe. Online, www.museumoftechnology.com. Follow us on social media.