moon II was a project meant to see whether the hopes and feelings of one such as me could ever be conveyed through a voice so frail, untrained, and audibly queer. it was a whimpered plea to be seen as beautiful – or if not, to be pitied for believing that i ever could be beautiful.

to this day, i'm still not sure if it was a success.

twitter: @watermoonII

Moon II is a brilliant work of engineering. Next to the garden itself, it remains one of the most sophisticated gifts that our caretakers bestowed upon us. Its multidirectional thrusters are perfectly agile and allow for limited space travel too. Its weaponry is designed to only resupply itself with packages dropped from the Festival’s machines, which makes it both resource-efficient and impossible to militarize.

It’s also surprisingly safe. Its fragility allows it to absorb the shock of nearly all hazards that pilots might face, and the ejection mechanism is heatproof and provides a safe return to the earth. The risk of mortality is still present, but it’s not the death wish some believe it to be.

Moon II requires two individuals to operate it. The first serves as its pilot, handling both movement and combat. The second, however, serves as the ship’s main energy source and lies dormant throughout the flight. These brave souls entrust everything to their pilots, and they are locked away in dreamless sleep until their fate is sealed.

Typically, pairs are chosen by the strength of the emotional bond they share. This isn’t technically necessary; any random pair would make the ship function. But outside of practice flights, where very little can go wrong, it is madness to permit a pairing between two who aren’t completely devoted to each other. Having someone the pilot loves alongside them tends to temper their ego. It forces them to reconsider their most selfish plans, and keeps them focused on the future they still might have together.

We send them away, two by two…