The only thing I wanted was to get the cheapest shoes possible for my lab cleaning tasks. I received the wrong size for the first pair. In frustration, I packaged them and shipped them off to China. Two weeks later, the world was grappling with a deadly new virus.

The media was abuzz with speculation, and conspiracy theories abounded. As chaos ensued, a team of epidemiologists arrived in the small town of Greenwood with the mission of uncovering the secrets behind the outbreak.

The CDC’s investigation team traced the virus back to the most unlikely of places—my home. My lab.

“Look at this place,” said Dr Miller, his voice tinged with disbelief. “It looks like something out of a horror movie.”

The forgotten lab, its walls now adorned with rotting synthetic flesh, had become home to an organism befitting a Cronenberg film. Nostrils, ears, and other body parts visibly emitting spores. Being a time-travelling cyborg, I was immune to the bacteria and viruses that plagued organic beings, but my attempts at biotechnological innovation had clearly gone awry.

Dr Carter approached cautiously, her keen eyes scanning the room. “What exactly were you doing here?” she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

I told them it was my contribution to science, implants, plastic surgery and prosthetics. And not the truth of how I had suffered major injuries during my last jump.

In my attempt to heal myself, I accidentally created a biohazard while experimenting to generate new tissue for my wounds. In my case, they functioned as spare body parts for potential injuries. I didn’t foresee how a hot summer would impact my creation. It was a bizarre sight, even for seasoned professionals like them.

“I never meant to create the Coronavirus,” I said, my voice steady but laced with regret. “Honestly, that’s what happened. It’s a true story.” I left out the bit about being a time-travelling cyborg.

Dr Park examined a pair of shoes left on the counter. “These shoes,” she mused. “You said you sent a pair back to China?”

I nodded. “Yes, they were the wrong size. I returned them weeks ago and got the right size.” Dr Thompson’s eyes widened as he connected the dots.

In the end, the team of epidemiologists had not only traced the virus to its unlikely origin but also showed the delicate interconnectedness of our global society. And I learned a valuable lesson about the unintended consequences of practising illegal experiments that only my creator fully understands.

They then handcuffed me and led me away.