Italian Renaissance Dieselfunk

A man walks down a sidewalk along the side of a canalleyway in New Venice.  He is covered in a grey cloak, embroidered with intricate patterns and, when the light hits just right, it's apparent that it's trimmed with silver thread.  The hum and hammer of engines can be heard behind the partially-rounded walls on buildings he passes, round lights occasionally bathing the tiled path in yellowish light.  Eventually he turns and enters a door, big and steel but set with an ornate, rounded window, which is blocked off by a painting of the Blessed Mother placed behind it.

Inside the building is a large room, with a balcony over each side of the room and an arched opening in each wall.  Along the walls are tile patterns, some simply abstract shapes, some religious imagery.  The room is packed with people in flowing gowns, capes, and breeches, all in myriads of colors. Rounded lights with various colors of glass over them shine above the center of the room.

Our mystery man takes off his cloak and hands it to a servant boy--and we see that under his cloak he wears much the same as the others, but just a little different.  His colors a bit more vibrant.  His dress a bit more daring.  And an oil-stained apron over it all.  The room goes silent.

The crowd parts.  A Moorish woman dressed peculiarly in breeches steps forward.  Someone hands her an apron, and the music begins.

It's just lutes at first, perhaps a violinist joining in now and then, but as the mechanical suits are lowered, so too is a machine with many horns and pipes protruding from it.  The man's machine is adorned with images of the saints, shaped somewhat squarish, and it has a small tabernacle atop it.  It is mostly red in color, with gold leaf all over it.  The she-Moor's machine is shaped like the onion top of a mosque, and wrapped in brilliant purple fabric.  Two sabers on the back act as handles for her to open the door and enter.

The music machine joins the string section, playing a strange and rhythmic song.  The man kneels and makes the sign of the cross before climbing into his own machine.

"Your beats are quite divine, but can your engines match it?" he asks.

"You will find out soon enough," she answers.  All colors of light shine and focus on the pair as the woman's machine strikes a scandalous pose.  The man's machine matches it and draws closer to hers.  "Let us dance."