text: Jack cleared his throat. This was a big moment. A huge moment. A historic moment. “*My name is Jack Platt...”* His voice was croaky. He cleared his throat once again. *“My name is Jack Platt and I am honoured to announce that we at Platt Ltd. have created the world’s first time machine*!” Silence. Jack was actually standing alone in his empty garage. The presentation was purely for his own amusement. The content however, was very real indeed. Jack had hoped for a big reveal in front of all the world’s media, but the Coronavirus pandemic meant it wouldn’t happen the way he wanted it to. So for now, it would be his secret. At least until things got back to normal. Not that staying in isolation had been a bad thing, it had actually sped up his process. Apart from a brief visit to the shop last week, Jack had spent every waking hour inside his old garage working away at what had been his life’s work. At 47 years old he had wasted much of his life trying to figure out time travel, but this year was the year he finally made a breakthrough. His dream became a reality. Jack stood back and admired his creation: a steel chamber about eight feet tall, glimmering despite the dull lighting, the glass door ajar welcoming him in. Would it actually work? Jack had no clue. Where would he go? He wasn’t too sure on that either. But he was convinced this contraption would take him to anywhere in the world, at any point in history. “*No time like the present...or the past,*” Jack chuckled to himself before his throat began to tickle. He stepped inside. Now this was the tricky part. In reality time travel doesn’t work like it does in the movies: You can’t just put the time and date in; you can’t step into a cupboard and close your eyes; and you certainly can’t just jump into a hot tub. Jack fired up the software and began coding to calibrate the machine. Jack mopped sweat from his brow - he hadn’t ever remembered the time machine feeling this hot, but then again he had never felt this much anticipation. Eventually it was ready. Jack tried to take a deep breath, but was struggling to compose himself. He put it down to nerves and pulled down on the lever in front of him and prayed to every God there ever was that this would work. ***BANG*** This wasn't right. Jack was thrown from one side of the chamber to another. ***BANG*** Jack was on the floor. Short of breath and struggling to get up. ***BANG*** The door swung open. And as Jack picked himself up off the floor, he couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him was a bustling market place, which couldn’t be further from the silence of his garage. People pushed past him, the noise of chatter filled his ears. He was definitely somewhere in Asia, but had no idea where. It was all very alien to him after the constant pleas to social distance for the past six months. *“Where am I?”,* he muttered to himself. *“When am I?”* He turned around and took in his surroundings: stalls of food everywhere, a currency exchanging hands that he didn’t recognise, and buckets full of fish lined the alleyways, but for some reason he couldn’t smell a thing. He began to cough. Jack noticed a newspaper at his feet and picked it up - it was all in Chinese, apart from the date: *17th December 2019.* Pre-COVID. Jack suddenly dropped the paper and began to splutter, he was really struggling for breath now. Everyone around him started backing away as he continued to wheeze. If he was struggling for breath before, the next thing he saw took it away completely. He had noticed a banner above him, raising his head to read it: ***WUHAN FISH MARKET*** Jack felt a plunging feeling in his stomach as the realisation dawned on him.