The Flying Machine by Ray Bradbury

So it begins.

It's been a minute since I've read anything by Ray Bradbury and didn’t expect to stumble into ancient Chinese folklore when I picked up The Flying Machine. Known mostly for his sci-fi and speculative fiction, Bradbury totally shifts gears here, delivering an intriguing fable about the transformative power of art in relation to power.

The story revolves around an inventor who’s cracked the code of human flight, an achievement that should be cause for celebration. The poetic descriptions are vintage Bradbury:

|"And in the sky, laughing so high that you could hardly hear him laugh, was a man; and the man was clothed in bright papers and reeds to make wings and a beautiful yellow tail, and he was soaring all about like the largest bird in a universe of birds, like a new dragon in a land of ancient dragons."|

However, while the Emperor is awed by the spectacle, he also sees potential danger with this invention. If one man can soar above fortified walls, what’s stopping another man from raising an army of flying men with a handful of well-aimed stones? Thus, in the name of social order and future prosperity, the Emperor makes a difficult decision: all evidence of the flying machine must be destroyed and the inventor executed. 

What makes this story especially fascinating is that the Emperor isn’t portrayed as a ruthless dictator. There is some moral ambiguity as he wrestles with the decision to ensure the survival of his people. He's also an artist/inventor in his own right. He’s built an intricate clockwork diorama with a carefully controlled display of movement and life. He claims to understand its purpose, unlike the flying man, who has potentially unleashed something reckless and uncontainable into the world (at least in the Emperor’s eyes).

Bradbury packs a lot into this short fable: the tension between creation and control, the fear that beauty unregulated is beauty weaponized, and the idea that power will always prioritize security over wonder. It's dark, efficient, and a quietly tragic story—classic Bradbury, even when he’s stepping outside his usual genre.

You can read this story HERE.