A vintage photograph captures a woman soaring between the clouds, her silhouette framed against the endless sky. Billowing mist swirls around her as she ascends, her striped stockings, short corduroy skirt, and fitted blouse rippling in the wind. Her hair, styled in elegant 1920s waves, whips against the high-altitude currents. Strapped to her back is an elaborate steam-powered jetpack—a mechanical marvel of brass pipes, riveted metal plating, and exposed gears. A massive boiler hums and rattles, releasing plumes of scalding steam that twist like ghostly serpents into the rarefied air. Twin exhaust nozzles glow faintly with embers, their heat warping the surrounding vapor into shimmering distortions. Below her, the world is obscured by an ocean of clouds, stretching endlessly like a vast, rippling sea of white. But even here, reality is fractured. Suspended in the sky, jagged neon-orange geometric anomalies flicker in and out of existence—sharp prisms of broken space, slicing through the mist like shards of shattered glass. Some drift lazily, pulsing with a synthetic glow, while others crackle with erratic energy, bending light around them in impossible refractions. Their neon reflections shimmer across the woman’s metallic jetpack, casting a surreal contrast of warm brass and cold, artificial luminescence. Undeterred, she navigates this shifting, dreamlike expanse, her jetpack roaring, the steam swirling, and the world bending unpredictably around her.