In H. G. Wells’s The Time Machine, the man referred to only as ‘The Time Traveller’ presents his dinner guests with a tiny model of what he claims is a time machine. It leans oddly, yet is finely crafted; two years it was in the making, he tells the wondering company with pride, as he highlights various features.

Their host asks the company to acknowledge that there can be no sleight-of-hand, and then invites one of his guests to press the lever that will send the machine into the future. With no more than a stirring of air, the little model slowly spins and fades to nothing before their eyes, leaving them lost for words.

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