But at the same time the reader can hardly conceive my astonishment, to behold an island in the air, inhabited by men, who were able (as it should seem) to raise or sink, or put it into progressive motion, as they pleased. But not being at that time in a disposition to philosophise upon this phenomenon, I rather chose to observe what course the island would take, because it seemed for awhile to stand still. Yet soon after, it advanced nearer, and I could see the sides of it encompassed with several gradations of galleries, and stairs, at certain intervals, to descend from one to the other. In the lowest gallery, I beheld some people fishing with long angling rods, and others looking on. I waved my cap (for my hat was long since worn out) and my handkerchief toward the island; and upon its nearer approach, I called and shouted with the utmost strength of my voice; and then looking circumspectly, I beheld a crowd gather to that side which was most in my view. […]

They made signs for me to come down from the rock, and go towards the shore, which I accordingly did; and the flying island being raised to a convenient height, the verge directly over me, a chain was let down from the lowest gallery, with a seat fastened to the bottom, to which I fixed myself, and was drawn up by pulleys.

Basic Set Up:

Gulliver, the narrator of Swift's novel, comes across the flying island of Laputa in this section of the novel.

Is it a spaceship? Is it a levitating saucer? Is it an island? Well, yeah, it is an island. But it also happens to fly. Alternative settings doesn't get much crazier than the flying island of Laputa in Swift's Gulliver's Travels.

Even though Gulliver's Travels is a very early text, it's considered a classic of the sci-fi genre partly because of its very outlandish settings. And the island of Laputa (one of four islands that Gulliver visits on his travels) is a perfect example of the way in which sci-fi texts focus on extraordinary locations and worlds as settings for their stories.

One way that sci-fi writers make us readers believe in the "realness" of the worlds that they create is by throwing loads and loads of details at us. The idea of a flying island, of course, is pretty crazy. And yet, Swift (through Gulliver's narrative voice) gives us so much detail in this passage that we begin to really see it.

The people on the island can "raise or sink" it, "as they pleased." The sides of the island are "encompassed with several gradations of galleries, and stairs." In the lowest gallery, there are "people fishing with long angling rods." Because of all of these details, we really begin to see the flying island, and believe in it.