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4/27/2025, 2:34:59 PM
>>49328763
The hyper-surveillance concept fits quite well within the framework of the Lunar Capital's culture, which values absolute Purity, order, and control above all else.
Imagine a city of breathtaking beauty, gleaming white and silver structures blending hyper-advanced technology with traditional Eastern architecture. Everything is impeccably clean, orderly, and seemingly perfect, reflecting the Lunarian obsession with Purity [Purity/Impurity]. However, this perfection feels sterile and unchanging. There are no seasons, no decay, just an eternal, static present within a Pure Land. For a rabbit, it's less a home and more a meticulously maintained, beautiful enclosure. Technology is seamlessly woven into the environment, often invisibly. Surfaces might subtly monitor passersby, atmospheric regulators ensure constant Purity levels, and soft chimes or lights guide movement and enforce schedules.
A Moon Rabbit's life is defined by duty. They exist to serve the Lunarians. Days are highly regimented, filled with tasks like farming specialized lunar crops, compounding medicines (perhaps under Eirin's old systems), maintaining equipment, cleaning, or military training under commanders like Yorihime. Activities like pounding mochi in unison for the imprisoned goddess Chang'e are both a cultural ritual and a reminder of their collective identity and subservience. Chang'e is likely the only high-status figure most lunar rabbits feel genuine affection for, given her kindness from being born as an earthling (thus, she doesn't have the usual Lunarian prejudices for moon rabbits). Rabbits on the Moon might have designated communal areas, but true privacy is likely non-existent (mirroring surveillance states on Earth). Their innate telepathy fosters unity amongst themselves but also potentially facilitates oversight.
Surveillance wouldn't just be cameras. Advanced sensors are embedded everywhere, tracking movement, vital signs, and perhaps even basic emotional states via subtle energy readings. Access to areas is likely controlled by biometric or identity markers. Every action might be logged in vast data repositories. Lunarian overseers are a constant presence. Rabbits are conditioned to report any deviation from norms, either out of ingrained duty or fear. The Watatsuki sisters, particularly the stern Yorihime, represent the ever-watchful eye of authority. Toyohime's softer approach might offer rare moments of leniency but doesn't change the system.
The shared telepathic network is a double-edged sword. While it allows efficient communication and coordination, it's conceivable that Lunarian authorities (perhaps specialists or even the Watatsukis themselves) can monitor the network for widespread dissent, strong negative emotions, or 'impure' thoughts. Rabbits likely practice a form of mental self-censorship.
The goal of this surveillance isn't just political control; it's intrinsically tied to maintaining the Purity of the Capital [Purity/Impurity, Lunarians]. Any thought or action deemed 'impure,' like expressing strong negative emotions, questioning authority, showing excessive interest in Earth, or slacking off, could be flagged. Punishment might range from re-education and harsher duties to, in extreme cases, being 'reprocessed.'
Given their ongoing effort to spy on Earth (leading to some sort of shadow war?), the history of exiles (like Eirin, Kaguya and even before), and the single successful invasion by Junko/Hecatia, paranoia about external threats and internal dissent would be high, justifying intense security measures.
These combined can have very notable psychological impacts on a Moon Rabbit:
- Rabbits are raised in an environment where conformity is paramount. Individuality is suppressed in favor of the collective good and service to Lunarians. Expressing unique desires or dissenting opinions is dangerous.
- The instinctive duty to serve Lunarians clashes with any nascent personal desires for freedom or self-determination. This internal conflict could be a major source of angst.
- While their telepathy smooths over internal conflicts (among fellow rabbits only), there's an underlying fear of their masters and a quiet resignation to their second-class status. They know they are tools, albeit valued ones in some cases.
- For some, the pressure cooker of constant surveillance and suppressed desires would fuel a deep yearning for escape not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Earth, despite its Impurity, represents chaos, change, and the freedom the Lunar Capital denies. This is why some moon rabbits, like Ringo and Seiran, deserted.
Rei'sen, being the pet of the Watatsuki sisters and presumably a competent soldier, likely experiences a slightly elevated status but will still be subjected to the same system. Perhaps her proximity to the command structure gives her glimpses of the system's true extent or its inherent unfairness.
The hyper-surveillance concept fits quite well within the framework of the Lunar Capital's culture, which values absolute Purity, order, and control above all else.
Imagine a city of breathtaking beauty, gleaming white and silver structures blending hyper-advanced technology with traditional Eastern architecture. Everything is impeccably clean, orderly, and seemingly perfect, reflecting the Lunarian obsession with Purity [Purity/Impurity]. However, this perfection feels sterile and unchanging. There are no seasons, no decay, just an eternal, static present within a Pure Land. For a rabbit, it's less a home and more a meticulously maintained, beautiful enclosure. Technology is seamlessly woven into the environment, often invisibly. Surfaces might subtly monitor passersby, atmospheric regulators ensure constant Purity levels, and soft chimes or lights guide movement and enforce schedules.
A Moon Rabbit's life is defined by duty. They exist to serve the Lunarians. Days are highly regimented, filled with tasks like farming specialized lunar crops, compounding medicines (perhaps under Eirin's old systems), maintaining equipment, cleaning, or military training under commanders like Yorihime. Activities like pounding mochi in unison for the imprisoned goddess Chang'e are both a cultural ritual and a reminder of their collective identity and subservience. Chang'e is likely the only high-status figure most lunar rabbits feel genuine affection for, given her kindness from being born as an earthling (thus, she doesn't have the usual Lunarian prejudices for moon rabbits). Rabbits on the Moon might have designated communal areas, but true privacy is likely non-existent (mirroring surveillance states on Earth). Their innate telepathy fosters unity amongst themselves but also potentially facilitates oversight.
Surveillance wouldn't just be cameras. Advanced sensors are embedded everywhere, tracking movement, vital signs, and perhaps even basic emotional states via subtle energy readings. Access to areas is likely controlled by biometric or identity markers. Every action might be logged in vast data repositories. Lunarian overseers are a constant presence. Rabbits are conditioned to report any deviation from norms, either out of ingrained duty or fear. The Watatsuki sisters, particularly the stern Yorihime, represent the ever-watchful eye of authority. Toyohime's softer approach might offer rare moments of leniency but doesn't change the system.
The shared telepathic network is a double-edged sword. While it allows efficient communication and coordination, it's conceivable that Lunarian authorities (perhaps specialists or even the Watatsukis themselves) can monitor the network for widespread dissent, strong negative emotions, or 'impure' thoughts. Rabbits likely practice a form of mental self-censorship.
The goal of this surveillance isn't just political control; it's intrinsically tied to maintaining the Purity of the Capital [Purity/Impurity, Lunarians]. Any thought or action deemed 'impure,' like expressing strong negative emotions, questioning authority, showing excessive interest in Earth, or slacking off, could be flagged. Punishment might range from re-education and harsher duties to, in extreme cases, being 'reprocessed.'
Given their ongoing effort to spy on Earth (leading to some sort of shadow war?), the history of exiles (like Eirin, Kaguya and even before), and the single successful invasion by Junko/Hecatia, paranoia about external threats and internal dissent would be high, justifying intense security measures.
These combined can have very notable psychological impacts on a Moon Rabbit:
- Rabbits are raised in an environment where conformity is paramount. Individuality is suppressed in favor of the collective good and service to Lunarians. Expressing unique desires or dissenting opinions is dangerous.
- The instinctive duty to serve Lunarians clashes with any nascent personal desires for freedom or self-determination. This internal conflict could be a major source of angst.
- While their telepathy smooths over internal conflicts (among fellow rabbits only), there's an underlying fear of their masters and a quiet resignation to their second-class status. They know they are tools, albeit valued ones in some cases.
- For some, the pressure cooker of constant surveillance and suppressed desires would fuel a deep yearning for escape not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Earth, despite its Impurity, represents chaos, change, and the freedom the Lunar Capital denies. This is why some moon rabbits, like Ringo and Seiran, deserted.
Rei'sen, being the pet of the Watatsuki sisters and presumably a competent soldier, likely experiences a slightly elevated status but will still be subjected to the same system. Perhaps her proximity to the command structure gives her glimpses of the system's true extent or its inherent unfairness.
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