The Machinist assigned to travel with my clan is named Sizo. I have many fond memories of sitting at her knee as she plied her trade, rumbling softly as she explained each part of the process, though I was still too young then to understand.
Still, some of it must have gotten through to me--because today I built a bike of my own and I already knew her name.
Simoon. Si-moon. It was like she'd whispered it in my ear. Or maybe I'd known it all along, the knowledge innate--just like how I knew her name was old and vast as the desert, fierce and cutting as a violent wind. Her name rises out of my throat like heat rising off the sand, and when Sizo hears me say it first I can tell she's beaming behind the mask, proud.
I reverently touch the curved metal edge of the Machinist badge she gave me, and it seems to hum with the same thrilling potential as my Gliding Stone. The first badge of my Gliding.
Maybe I've always had leanings toward Machinism, given all that time spent with Sizo; Jadi certainly thought so, breaking tradition to nudge me toward Burnt Oak Station, where I'd meet the Machinist Utarii--another friend of Sizo's.
It's funny; if you didn't know better, you might think I named Simoon for Sizo.
Si-moon. Si-zo.
Simoon already had a name when I made her, of course. But it's a nice thought.
We did build her together, after all.