A few months ago, Wood Ingham joined with authors Will Hindmarch and Chuck Wendig, to form an on-line writer's collective known as Jet-Pack. Although initially connected by their work for RPG publisher White Wolf, the three authors' flash fiction and short stories revealed a series of off-kilter realities and glossy dystopian futures. Ingham's Memory Sticks originally appeared on Jet-Pack as a serialized story about a young woman, named Sarah whose transient memories seem largely dictated by the implanted computer that sometimes controls her brain. Collected into novella form, it becomes a meditation on the line between technology and humanity, and what happens when the line becomes far too blurred.

The story takes place in a near-future that is plausibly two or three decades away. Though not central to the plot, it is apparent that some highly advanced neurosurgery involving nanobots is required for brain implanted computers to work properly. These aren't just computers inside someone's brain, though — the procedure makes the brain into a computer, giving the system access to memory and personality.

Sarah is a young woman who underwent implantation for her job as a reporter and editor. She has a hard time remembering her real name, since she almost always goes by her callsign, ALIS. ALIS can compose, edit and upload articles just by thinking about it; she works while riding the train, while eating breakfast, and while having sex. She never sleeps, just drops into "passive mode."

Most of her co-workers have no idea who she is because they spend all day tranced out and connected to the network. Social interaction is almost all via text message or network update. Every conversation is like the disjointed hell of an Internet chatroom. Her only real relationship is a sham. The true horror of ALIS' semi-artificial existence is revealed by the reaction of the "normal" humans who encounter her: a mix of revulsion and fascination that leaves her at one point crying out to herself, "I'm not a robot!"

Ingham's prose is tight and plain, presenting even the most emotional scenes in a raw, unadorned manner that only emphasizes their true impact. The somewhat experimental style of ALIS/Sarah's conversations effectively conveys the weirdness of her constant internal and external dialogue. It's a heavy story, bright yet bleak, about artificiality, corporate slavery and human memory. It's also about nostalgia for who we were and regret over what we've had to become to make our way through the world.

Memory Sticks is available in both pdf and print, and Wood Ingham will be promoting it via a small book launch at the Crunch in Swansea, Wales on August 20th if you happen to be in the area.

I am no stranger to the jetpack dream. This may be a surprise to Montandon, since his book made frequent note of the dearth of women in the jetpack-sleuthing world, but that future he imagines — the one with new gadgets and better engines — will bring gender equality as well. Conversations with my half-female group of aerospace engineer friends at MIT often ended with one of us blurting out, "We should just build a damn jetpack already!" With a jetpack, we could get to class faster, which would leave us more time for personal projects, like building jetpacks ... and perhaps that's the conundrum.

Jetpack Dreams is certainly food for the souls of people like us, whose eyes leap to the sky to search for contrails every time we hear an engine. Montandon, who has written for The New York Times and Salon, uses his considerable talent and experience to craft an engaging and accessible narrative of North American jetpack dreamers. His book is at once a history of and update on the emergence of this futuristic device: Montandon starts with the 1951 Jet Vest (which never flew) and ends with his own test flight of Jet Pack T-73. Though his lack of engineering training shows — he explains the concepts of lift and drag in vague and utterly basic terms, recounts the jokes and activities of jetpack engineers with undisguised bewilderment, and even refers to one fellow dreamer as "Super Geek" — his writing still shines. His description of experiencing a zero-g parabola in a small airplane, for example, is spot-on; he deftly catalogues every detail of the "voluptuous panic" that is flight. Making your way through Jetpack Dreams will put you right at Montandon's side for his journey, which means you get a front-row pass for conventions, demonstrations, and even intimate conversations with jetpack enthusiasts.

You also get a front-row pass to his life: Montandon spends time introducing his wife, his daughters, his father, and several of his friends — along with, of course, jetpack builders, jetpack pilots, and jetpack financiers. This nonfiction story of the jetpack's evolution reads as easily as chick lit, and it rewards with adventures through aerospace. It could be a fun holiday read, but it's also a necessity for the library of anyone who wants — to take a line from the book — "[to kick] gravity's ass like it [has] never been kicked before."

JetpackDreamsTheBook.com

Crossing the 22-mile English Channel in a mere 13 minutes, the 48-year-old Rossy is said to have simply moved his head and back to steer the gizmo—made of eight-foot carbon-composite wings and kerosene-fuelled jet turbines—and landed by parachute. Wearing only a heat-resistant suit and helmet, he was moving at upwards of 125 mph. Remarked the sky captain, who took a similar, if shorter, joy ride above the Alps four months ago:

I was under tension. But fear? The day I fear, I don’t go.

If you’d like to watch the record-making flight in action, MSNBC has handily provided some footage, with a Matt Lauer play-by-play at no extra charge. (Alternately, you can turn down the volume and space-out to William Shatner’s vintage cover of Elton John’s “Rocket Man.”) Next up for the real-life Rocket Man: soaring above Arizona’s Grand Canyon. Talk about flying like an eagle.

Photo courtesy of ducaduca.

Here's a video of the flight, with dreamy background music provided by our sister site Gizmodo. I would have done something a little more death metal, but actually the pop works OK too. Says The Register about the commercial potential of this jetpack:

Rossy's backpack jetwings won't be hitting the shops soon, though. The only controls or instruments are a throttle and an audible altimeter - the wing is steered using the body, and given his long history of crackups this plainly isn't easy even for Rossy. A flameproof suit is necessary to avoid leg burns from the jet exhaust, too. The only way of launching is to jump from a (great) height. Landing is by folding the wings and parachuting down - yet more skills to be mastered. (The latest wing has its own landing chute which deploys if it has to be jettisoned, which should ease the future development path somewhat).

The main application would seem to be stunts like yesterday's - or perhaps for certain highly unusual/barmy special-forces missions. Spelco, a military parachute company in Germany, is working on its "Gryphon" backpack deltaplane - an easier to operate, low-radar-signature, long-ranging version of Rossy's concept.

Swiss birdman in Alpine backpack [The Register]

Artist Neville Page was one of the designers of the jetpack used by the precog cops in the movie Minority Report, but he wanted to take the design a bit further and created this pinup in the process. He meant it to be tongue-in-cheek, and he's his own biggest critic: "It is safe to say that with police officers like her, one might be inspired to commit crimes in the hopes of being arrested. So perhaps this is not such a good costume idea after all."

We'd have to disagree with him there as far as costumes go, but as far as the uniform for a civil servant, this one might be a tad too distracting. Plus there's no way you'd want to see the 300 lb. Sergant McGillicuddy in that thing. Especially since he got that nasty skin rash.