Freedom In The Sky

The wind overhead felt like a tornado rushing past my body, which caused me to look up—part curiosity, part survival instinct. I saw dozens of Young Pops—the name given to twenty-forth-century humans aged 15 to 30—zipping through the sky like they had somewhere very important to be, which they probably didn’t.

A female Young Pop had a pink jetpack strapped on, with matching pink hair highlights. Fashion clearly still matters at 30,000 feet. This wasn’t one of those 200-year-old, fuel-burning relics of old. No—her suit and jetpack moved like an elegant dance, a whisper against the air currents. She flew past without offering the optional two-finger community greeting. Rude, but maybe she was texting mid-flight. That generation does love their mid-air multitasking.

Nearby, a male had bionic tattoos that enhanced his strength. It wasn’t just added power; it was like his willpower had Bluetooth. Each muscle flex triggered a lift surge. How it worked—and his smug defiance of gravity—annoyed me. I smiled anyway and gave him the community greeting from the ground, surrounded by folks my age—thirty-five years past the Y-Pop maturity date and one bad back away from retirement.

He didn’t return the greeting either. Of course not.

My great-great-grandfather once traveled on the ground in a gas-thrust propulsion device that polluted the air and had to be manually driven over rough, uneven, jarring roads. Historical records say the ride was uncomfortable—like getting massaged by a sack of hammers. But at least it was on solid ground. And hey, back then, people regularly gave each other the one-finger greeting—that tradition, apparently, was alive and well.

Today, we’ve got flying shuttlecraft gliding through the atmosphere—clean, silent, smooth, and smug.

No more steering wheels. The AI system handles air traffic like a cosmic butler, catering exclusively to Y-Pop passengers.

I get it—the thrill of aerial freedom is intoxicating. But sometimes I wonder if the Y-Pop generation even remembers the scientists, engineers, and astronomers who made this freedom possible. Probably not. They’re too busy perfecting their mid-air selfies and neon wing upgrades.

Before the sky became freedom, Earth’s terra firma was the prize. Back then, people felt the ground was a chain. Ironically, they were right. One day, gravity on Earth shifted so drastically that anyone not tethered risked floating off the planet entirely. Turns out “down to Earth” is no longer a personality trait—it’s a survival requirement.

The flying suits are designed for Y-Pop only anyway. My wings were officially clipped around 2358. Budget cuts, age limits, and a minor incident involving a wind turbine. As more Y-Pops sail over my head, I grip my tether and offer them a historical one-finger greeting—a gesture passed down from my great-great-grandfather’s era.