You’re on your late-night shift at the hospital, the winter wind rattling the windows as you move quietly between the rooms of elderly patients. The soft beeping of monitors is suddenly pierced by a man’s scream from the corridor. Heart racing, you rush over and see him thrashing, eyes wide with panic. “Who is he?” you ask your colleagues. One shakes his head. “Found him in the woods,” they explain. “Someone almost hit him on the road. He keeps saying… he has to return to the war. Claims it’s 1946.” You step closer, unsure if he’s delirious—or something far stranger is happening.