Did you know that long before spaceships roared across movie screens or pages of pulp magazines, the very first “space opera” was penned in the 2nd century A.D.? That’s nearly two millennia before the iconic works of Jules Verne or H.G. Wells. As the video above brilliantly illustrates, this groundbreaking work, known as A True Story, emerged from the mind of an ancient Greek satirist named Lucian of Samosata, who delighted audiences with his over-the-top tales and sharp wit. His narrative, packed with cosmic voyages, alien encounters, and intergalactic warfare, not only lays claim to being the earliest known science fiction but also serves as a scathing critique of his era’s popular literature.
Lucian of Samosata: The Ancient World’s Master of Satire
Lucian was more than just a storyteller; he was a cultural commentator, adept at using exaggerated humor to lampoon the superstitions, religions, and political figures of his time. He was so popular that over 80 of his works survive today, a testament to his enduring appeal. For us, almost 2000 years removed from his original audience, some of his jokes might seem baffling or even dull. This is because Lucian wrote for the educated upper class of Greece, creating stories rich with references and humor specific to their contemporary world.
The Literary Landscape of the Roman Empire
To truly grasp Lucian’s genius, we must first understand the literary environment he was operating within. During the Roman Empire, two genres dominated the publishing scene: the travelogue and the debate.
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Travelogues: These were best-selling accounts of journeys to distant lands, often blending guidebook information with personal journals. Imagine if every travel influencer today not only documented their trips but also felt pressured to invent fantastical elements just to capture attention. Lucian observed that many travelogue writers of his time had devolved into sensationalism, publishing outright lies as facts to maintain relevance and boost sales. They’d embellish discoveries, exaggerate encounters, and generally fabricate the “findings” of their expeditions.
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Debates: These involved written arguments between esteemed public figures, delving into philosophical or political ideas. However, Lucian found them to be long-winded and excessively highbrow. He believed they often descended into bickering over trivial semantics, obscuring any real substance. Picture a modern-day academic debate show where every participant is more concerned with sounding intelligent than making a clear point.
Lucian detested the sensationalism of travelogues and the pretentiousness of debates. He saw these genres, once vibrant, becoming corrupted. His solution? To satirize them by taking their excesses to an absurd new level, fusing them into a single, unprecedented narrative.
“I Confidently Pronounce That Truthfully, I Lie”: Lucian’s Radical Preface
The brilliance of A True Story begins on page one, where Lucian openly admits his entire book is a work of fiction. This was a revolutionary act. Back then, travelogues masqueraded as factual accounts, even when they were full of fabrications. Lucian calls out his contemporaries, though not by name, for “ruining the publishing business” with their tall tales sold to a “stupid readership.” He then humorously admits his own inability to find anything noteworthy to write about truthfully, declaring that if he must lie to sell books, he’ll be more honorable by openly declaring his lies. His famous line, “I confidently pronounce that truthfully, I lie. I write of matters which I neither saw nor suffered, nor heard by reports from people that I made up… Let no man therefore in any case believe these words,” serves as a playful challenge and a philosophical statement on truth and fiction.
The Incredible Journey: From Gibraltar to the Moon and Beyond
Lucian’s fabricated journey begins with him and 50 men setting sail from the Pillars of Hercules (modern-day Strait of Gibraltar). After a day and a night, they encounter a terrifying tempest that carries them for an astonishing 79 days. On the 80th day, they discover an island where they find proof of Hercules and Dionysus, a river of wine (whose fish make the men drunk), and trees shaped like women. Two lust-sick voyagers embrace these tree-women only to be ensnared and transformed themselves, a darkly comic twist.
Subsequently, a massive whirlwind lifts their ship into outer space. For seven days they sail through the cosmos, propelled by what they believed to be winds in space. On the eighth day, they arrive at the Moon.
Life on the Moon: Hippogepenes, Ant Dragoons, and a Cosmic War
Lucian’s description of the Moon is nothing short of fantastical. He and his crew are intercepted by Hippogepenes, or “Vulture Dragoons”—men who ride giant birds, acting as a lunar police force. They are brought before King Endymion, a human who speaks Greek. Here, Lucian’s satire truly shines, as he crafts a detailed, yet absurd, world.
The Moon Kingdom, we learn, is embroiled in a fierce war with the Sun Kingdom over the colonization of Venus. King Endymion had intended to colonize Venus, but King Phaethon of the Sun sent his “Ant Dragoons” first. Lucian and his men, having nothing better to do, agree to join Endymion’s forces, receiving armor and giant vultures for aerial combat.
Imagine if:
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The Armies of the Moon and Sun: A grand space battle unfolds, featuring 100,000 Moon soldiers, nearly a million galactic allies, Grass-plooms (birds with grass and lettuce wings), and archers riding elephant-sized fleas. Endymion even commissions island-sized spiders to weave a massive web in space to serve as a battlefield.
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Phaethon’s Chaotic Forces: The Sun army is equally bizarre, composed of Dragoons atop 200-foot-long ants, massive mosquitoes, men who hurl poisoned radishes, warriors with asparagus spears and mushroom shields, and “Puppy-corns” (representatives of the Dog Star) riding winged acorns. Lucian even includes a jab at “poor management” in the Sun army, with Milky Way slingers failing to show up and cloud centaurs arriving late—a clear poke at the often embellished and disorganized narratives found in contemporary travelogues.
The Moon Kingdom achieves a glorious victory. So much blood flows across the clouds that they are dyed red, “as they do when the sun is setting.” Captured by late-arriving cloud centaurs, Lucian and two companions are brought before King Phaethon, who initially plans to wall off the Moon with clouds. However, Endymion’s peace offering leads to a treaty. Both kingdoms agree to shared colonization of Venus and mutual aid, with Endymion paying a yearly tribute of 10,000 gallons of dew to Phaethon.
Moonite Culture and Strange Inventions
After their release, Lucian and his friends are celebrated heroes on the Moon. Endymion even offers his son’s hand in marriage, noting, “There are no women on the moon.” Lucian’s description of Moonite society is a masterclass in bizarre social commentary:
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Reproduction: Men serve as wives for the first 25 years of life, then become husbands. They carry children in their calves, not their bellies.
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Physiology: They have one toe on each foot, honey instead of snot, sweat milk, use their bellies as pockets, and wear clothes made of glass. Their eyes are removable, and their ears are leaves.
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Diet: Flying frogs are plucked from the air and eaten fried.
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Technology: A monumental piece of technology is a giant glass plane over a shallow well, which functions as a sort of ancient television, allowing them to spy on events happening on Earth. Lucian even watches his family through it, declaring mockingly, “If you think that I am lying, go there yourself, and you will see that I am telling the truth”—another jab at dishonest travel writers.
Further Adventures: From Lamptown to the Whale’s Belly
Lucian declines Endymion’s offer and eventually departs with his crew, guided by royal guards. Their journey back to Earth is no less strange:
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Lamptown: They visit a city of floating, sentient lamps, each representing a person on Earth and reporting their human’s activities to a magistrate. If a lamp fails its duty, its flame is extinguished forever. Lucian finds his own lamp and inquires about his family, finding the whole experience unsettling.
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Cloud-Cuckoo-Town: They pass by this legendary city (a nod to Aristophanes’ play), but strong winds prevent a stop.
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The Whale’s Belly: After being lowered back to Earth, their ship is swallowed whole by a monstrous whale, an incredible 187 and one half miles long. Inside, they discover an entire world with forests, animals, and even civilizations of six different fish-people kingdoms, all perpetually at war. Lucian and his men survive there for almost two years. To escape, they set the internal forests on fire, causing the whale to die after 13 days, eventually sailing out through a crack in its mouth.
The Island of the Blessed and the Unwritten Sequel
The adventures continue: a 30-day ordeal on frozen ice, a hunting expedition on a desert island, a voyage through a Sea of Milk, an island made of cheese, and an encounter with the Cork-Feet who walk on water. Finally, they reach the Island of the Blessed, a golden city surrounded by emerald walls, serving as an afterlife kingdom.
Here, Lucian hobnobs with veterans of the Trojan War, witnesses celestial court cases, and converses with historical figures like Pythagoras and Homer. He notes with satirical glee that Plato is conspicuously absent, rumored to be living in “an imaginary city under the constitution and laws that he himself wrote”—a sharp critique of Plato’s philosophical ideals. After six months and a rebellion sparked by an extramarital affair, Lucian’s party is asked to leave. Rhadamanthus, a demigod, assures Lucian he will one day return, even showing him a reserved chair. He points out six great islands in the distance, promising Lucian will eventually reach the great continent opposite his own, and eventually his homeland, after many more adventures.
Lucian provides a marshmallow plant for protection and continues recounting parts of his journey through these treacherous islands, where many of his men perish. The narrative of A True Story abruptly ends mid-voyage, with Lucian stating, “What happened on that island, I shall tell you in the next book.” However, as a disgruntled Greek scholar noted in the margins of a surviving copy, “This is Lucian’s greatest lie of all.” He never wrote a sequel.
Lucian of Samosata’s A True Story stands as an astounding work of early literature, not just for its fantastical elements but for its bold satirical intent. It reminds us that the human imagination, with its capacity for both wonder and critique, has explored the cosmos for far longer than we often realize, proving that the roots of modern science fiction delve deep into ancient soil.
Paradoxical Probes: Your Queries on the Absurd, Unread Epic
What is ‘A True Story’?
‘A True Story’ is an ancient Greek work from the 2nd century A.D. that is considered the earliest known example of science fiction or ‘space opera’.
Who wrote ‘A True Story’ and when?
It was written by an ancient Greek satirist named Lucian of Samosata in the 2nd century A.D., nearly 2,000 years before authors like Jules Verne.
What kind of story is ‘A True Story’?
It’s a satirical story filled with absurd adventures, including a trip to the Moon, alien encounters, and even intergalactic warfare. Lucian wrote it to make fun of other popular books of his time.
What makes ‘A True Story’ unique for its time?
Unlike other travelogues of its era that pretended to be factual, Lucian openly admitted in his preface that his entire story was a lie. This was a revolutionary act in ancient literature.