‘Referent’ by Ray Bradbury

Referent by Ray Bradbury, 1948

The magic trick:

Establishing sides – and an assumed sympathy for the reader to subscribe to – early in the story

Bradbury is so consistently anti-authority. It’s one of the great joys in reading his work.

In “Referent,” we are put in sympathy from the start with young Roby’s point of view and his skepticism of authority. His school wants to control him. His psychology class is misguided if not outright stupid. And on and on. It’s all communicated easily through some free indirect narration early.

It’s very interesting to read in 2024 when intellectual rebellion typically means defending authority instead of tearing down the system. Can’t imagine what Bradbury would make of this inverse equation. We certainly know what he thought of the old normal at least. He establishes his assumed moral logic from the first paragraph.

And that’s quite a trick on Bradbury’s part.

The selection:

Roby Morrison fidgeted. Walking in the tropical heat he heard the wet thunder of waves on the shore. There was a green silence on Orthopedic Island.

It was the year 1997, but Roby did not care.

All around him was the garden where he prowled, all ten years of him. This was Meditation Hour. Beyond the garden wall, to the north, were the High I.Q. Cubicles where he and the other boys slept in special beds. With morning they popped up like bottle-corks, dashed into showers, gulped food, and were sucked down vacuum-tubes half across the island to Semantics School. Then to Physiology. After Physiology he was blown back underground and released through a seal in the great garden wall to spend this silly hour of meditative frustration, as prescribed by the island Psychologists.

Roby had his opinion of it. “Damned silly.”

Today, he was in furious rebellion. He glared at the sea, wishing he had the sea’s freedom to come and go. His eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed, his small hands twitched nervously.

Somewhere in the garden a chime vibrated softly. Fifteen more minutes of meditation. Huh! And then to the Robot Commissary to stuff his dead hunger as taxidermists stuff birds.

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