The project is called Rainbow Gun — or, in our own slang, Radugamet.
A machine that shoots a rainbow.

Utterly pointless. Proudly non-conceptual. A device built purely for joy and stupidity.

It began with the classic fabric tube on a fan — the kind that flops around outside car washes and tire shops.

But we wanted something you could grab, wrestle, crawl inside, and let it thrash around you like an inflatable beast having an existential crisis.

We built version after version until we finally hit the right formula:

the most powerful industrial fans on the market, aluminum-frame boxes on legs, built-in lighting, and a big foot pedal in front.

You stand there, press the pedal — and the fabric tube explodes upward into your face, inflating in a split second.

That’s when you grab it, swing it around, steer it through space, or crawl inside while it spasms and wiggles.

We made tubes up to ten meters long.

Every single one was absurd, weightless, and irresistibly funny.

Eventually we started printing custom fabric and turned the whole thing into a literal rainbow cannon.

Which, of course, immediately raised eyebrows in Moscow:

“Why a rainbow? Is this… hinting at something?”

Given the bans already in place, we danced around these questions like seasoned diplomatic clowns.

At some point we even planned a children’s maze made entirely of these air-powered tunnels — a soft, trembling, crawling labyrinth.

But then we realized we were already stuck in a labyrinth of our own, with no exit sign in sight.

So we abandoned the idea and kept on unleashing our rainbow chaos into the world.