by Kyle Munkittrick

You are scrolling the news, half awake sipping your coffee, when you see the announcement. A startup, not quite unknown but not familiar, has a new product unveiling video. Ok, sure, another hype reel. You scroll past. But it shows up again on your socials. Everyone seems… excited? Fine. You tap the clip.
It’s a jetpack.
A person, obscured by a helmet and motorcycle leathers, straps on the sleek backpack. It doesn’t look like any jetpack you’ve ever seen and also, somehow, looks like every jetpack you’ve ever seen. The pilot grips two handles, is hovering, then flies off. The footage is real. All of it. Cool, you think, another impressive demo for a product you can’t buy and if you could, couldn’t afford. Then you see it, just below the video, a button.
“Pre-Order Now”
Curiosity overrides your skepticism. You tap it. Deposit (refundable) is $200. Full price is twice as much as your iPhone Pro. It ships in two months.
Unbelieving, you scrutinize the website. Your vision tunnels. You rewatch the video. You read the tweets and posts and comments. You watch the commentary clips and clips of those clips. This is real. The thing works. You click all the way through, adding one to your cart.
You could buy a jetpack. You can buy a jetpack.
The world tilts. You feel vertiginous. You sit down, dizzy and unmoored. How is this thing straight from the world of not just science fiction, but a bygone and lampooned era of cartoonish Flash Gordon optimism, real? It can’t be. But it is. You live in the future. Not the cynical cyberpunk future of Blade Runner or the nihilistic ruined future of The Road, but the future we had given up for lost, the future we had decided was as impossible as Narnia or Atlantis. Tomorrow is now.
Congratulations, you just had your first bout of future vertigo. Read more »
