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The last man on Earth died for the fifteenth time.

The machine jolted him back to life, repairing any damage within minutes.

It did everything to keep him happy, producing entertainment, stimulating conversations, and everything else it thought he needed.

But it could not give him a purpose.

Meaningless immortality.

Every time he sneezed, he would travel back in time by thirty seconds. It eventually became a major annoyance. He compensated for it by using it for his own entertainment: warping around, startling people. Then he got cocky, and provoked the wrong person. Thirty seconds later, he still hadn’t sneezed.