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"Mellonta Tauta" is a satirical short story by Edgar Allan Poe, presented as a letter written in the year 2848 by a woman named Pundita to her friend. While traveling aboard a futuristic hot-air balloon, she offers a series of rambling observations about history, philosophy, politics, and everyday life in her own era. Through her often misguided interpretations of the past, Poe humorously critiques 19th-century society, human vanity, and the cyclical nature of civilization.
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"Mellonta Tauta" is a satirical short story by Edgar Allan Poe, presented as a letter written in the year 2848 by a woman named Pundita to her friend. While traveling aboard a futuristic hot-air balloon, she offers a series of rambling observations about history, philosophy, politics, and everyday life in her own era. Through her often misguided interpretations of the past, Poe humorously critiques 19th-century society, human vanity, and the cyclical nature of civilization.
Satire, Future, Distopia
This text is a work in the public domain and reflects the norms, values and perspectives of its time. Some readers may find parts of this content offensive or disturbing, given the evolution in social norms and in our collective understanding of issues of equality, human rights and mutual respect. We ask readers to approach this material with an understanding of the historical era in which it was written, recognizing that it may contain language, ideas or descriptions that are incompatible with today's ethical and moral standards.
Names from foreign languages will be preserved in their original form, with no translation.
MELLONTA TAUTATO THE EDITORS OF THE LADY’S BOOK:
I have the honor of sending you, for your magazine, an article which I hope you will be able to comprehend rather more distinctly than I do myself. It is a translation, by my friend, Martin Van Buren Mavis, (sometimes called the “Poughkeepsie Seer”) of an odd-looking MS. which I found, about a year ago, tightly corked up in a jug floating in the Mare Tenebrarum—a sea well described by the Nubian geographer, but seldom visited now-a-days, except for the transcendentalists and divers for crotchets.
Truly yours,EDGAR A. POE
ON BOARD BALLOON “SKYLARK”
April, 1, 2848
Now, my dear friend—now, for your sins, you are to suffer the infliction of a long gossiping letter. I tell you distinctly that I am going to punish you for all your impertinences by being as tedious, as discursive, as incoherent and as unsatisfactory as possible. Besides, here I am, cooped up in a dirty balloon, with some one or two hundred of the canaille, all bound on a pleasure excursion, (what a funny idea some people have of pleasure!) and I have no prospect of touching terra firma for a month at least. Nobody to talk to. Nothing to do. When one has nothing to do, then is the time to correspond with ones friends. You perceive, then, why it is that I write you this letter—it is on account of my ennui and your sins.
Get ready your spectacles and make up your mind to be annoyed. I mean to write at you every day during this odious voyage.