My time machine is ready. After so long, I can finally get away from this infernal pandemic. A hundred years into the future should do it. Nature’s laws dictate that this must be a one-way trip, but it will be worth it. I leave this journal behind as a record of all that led up to my disappearance.
In what seemed to him seconds, John traversed a century. Upon exiting the time machine he asked the first person he spied, “Is the pandemic over?”
“What pandemic?”
“Oh, thank God. Tell me sir, what is the full date?”
“January 10, 2020.”
