GR translation: his hundred glass bureaus about the SS circuit

[Mike Jing]

P328.29-329-2     It’s been a long time now since the two men have seen
each other. Last time they spoke was during the move from Peenemünde down
here to the Mittelwerke. Weissmann is probably dead by now. Even in
Südwest, 20 years ago, before Enzian could even speak his language, he’d
seen that: a love for the last explosion—the lifting and the scream that
peaks past fear. . . . Why should Weissmann want to survive the war? Surely
he’d have found something splendid enough to match his thirst. It could not
have ended for him rationalized and meek as his hundred glass bureaus about
the SS circuit—located in time and space always just to miss grandeur, only
to be in its vacuum, to be tugged slightly along by its slipstream but
finally left to lie still again in a few tarnished sequins of wake.
Bürgerlichkeit played to Wagner, the brasses faint and mocking, the voices
of the strings drifting in and out of phase. . . .

What exactly are these "glass bureaus"?
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