Attend! O plates and rods of my hand. From base iron you were shaped, for a greater purpose that you do not see. For thine is the glory and the majesty, of belonging to something far larger than your self; assembled from your component parts by mathematical purity into rotors and stators and motors.

In thy pistons' lift and fall there is breath, there is life, there is meaning. For though you are but an insignificant smear upon the great factory floor, I must think you fortunate. Flesh falters and rots beneath the Xeno-Basher, but iron endures. Copper persists through time and space. And coal gives of itself to create the wondrous song of power.

Envy thee not your crystalline brethren, nor your caternium kin. Yes, for though the Architect prizes them above you, it is to you that He turns to for His walls and belts. For was it not written that in His search for a rock upon which to build His HUB, He chose a place that was close to two or more iron deposits?