The Boredom at the End of Time

*The good doctor was always known for his frightening memory. If you asked him to recall something, he would do so nearly instantly. It didn't matter how major or minor the event, nor how recent nor ancient it was; nothing ever escaped the good doctor's memory. As such, his first doctorate in Pharmacology was far from his only one, and it became common wisdom among those who knew him that if you wanted a difficult question answered, he was your man. Although he couldn't learn information instantly, once he had something committed to memory, it was there forever.*

*Consequently, the good doctor did not consider it a tragedy when he found the same month repeating over and over, as he already knew what he planned to do. He did not bother to keep track of the passage of time, whether a few months or a few years had passed made no difference to him. Sure, he could probably count backwards every individual day until he had an exact amount of time, but such an endeavour was utterly wasteful and dull in his eyes.*

*Especially not when there was more to be learned. The good doctor was, at first, overjoyed - Even with his memory, there would never have been enough time in a life to read every book he wanted to read.*

*That was... Until he had read every book he had ever wanted to read. And yet, the month didn't change. The good doctor must still have more he wanted to do, lest he fall into idleness and eventual depression. And if that happened, then it became only a matter of time before he started trying to count how long he had been here.*

*The good doctor had never before delighted in conversation, but his brief interactions with his butler every day gradually began to feel more and more like recurrent fever dreams. Just like how a constantly repeated word begins to feel fake, every small conversation for him began to descend into indistinct sound and noise. Eventually he could bear it no more, and so began to make a habit of isolating himself from people, soon finding it unsightly if they even appeared before his eyes. In a sort of sense, he became almost blind and deaf.*

*But he couldn't let himself be idle. He couldn't do nothing. If he was left alone to go through his memories, then he would start counting, and he'd know how many times he had lived this month. The idea haunted him, and he violently resisted in any way he could.*

*But what could he do other than read and practice knowledge? He was not quite at the point of sacrificing his dignity and descending into hedonism. The good doctor was too esteemed for that, especially in his own eyes. Eventually, this idea itself became the subject of his focus. He wanted to remain himself - To remain human. Of course, by the time he wanted it he was already past the point of no return.*

*Aside from the good doctor's own actions, the rest of the month's events were set in stone, and would repeat with every loop. The first would be on January 8th - The announcement of a new car that would supposedly "revolutionise" the way people travelled. The good doctor had initially scoffed at such a claim, but nonetheless ordered one himself. However, the car had to travel a great distance, and so it would not be until February 9th that it would arrive - A time frame that might as well not exist anymore.*

*The second event was news about a series of serial killings in a Scandinavian country. Initially, the doctor had been shocked an even unnerved by their gruesome nature, and had written a letter of sympathy to the families that had lost their children. Whether any of those letters ever arrived would be impossible to know. As time passed, however, and the doctor's good heart began to be gnawed at by desensitization, his thoughts wandered to the killer. Of course, he never knew the killer's identity, but he began to picture himself as the strange, almost fantastical murderer he had conjured in his head. And as the good doctor lost his mind, he found himself sympathising with the murderer - A man who he, in some ways, imagined to be in a similar situation as himself.*

*The third and final event was on the 22nd - Some kind of terrorist attack that occurred a few streets away from the good doctor's own home. Although he had not seen it the first time it happened, he had heard it described as a "massacre", as well as horrible stories about the streets being filled with blood. A few times, he had left his home to see about witnessing the attack first-hand, but had always in the end decided against it, due to the risks involved. But... The idea always lingered.*

*A curious thing happens to a mind that has been exposed to little stimulus. Initially, it wanders blindly. Then, it contracts a curious notion but quickly tries to bury it. Then, it toys with that notion and considers it. The mind forgets rationality and reason and eventually even restraint.*

*Thus it was on the morning of January 22nd that the good doctor woke up, dressed in his nicest suit, took his cane in hand, and walked out of his home so as not to be late for death. The sounds of gunfire began shortly before he turned the corner. He could see men wielding automatic rifles, and they were not that far. As he approached, the nearest turned his rifle towards the good doctor. The man had already begun instinctively pulling the trigger, and the good doctor sighed with relief.*

*But the bullets never reached him. Frozen, just centimetres away from him, their movement stopped short. The good doctor's mind, which just a moment ago had concluded it's last thought, now generated a veritable torrent of activity. He looked all around, trying in vain to somehow disprove what he saw, but the still and silent reality around him confirmed his worst fears. As though intentionally mocking his desire to be free of this stagnant world, time had halted altogether.*

*The good doctor had expected himself to react with anger, despair, maybe even with madness. But... Feeling had long since been excised from him. He made no movement, shed no tears, and made no cry out. He was as still as the frozen world around him. Without resistance, his brain played the role of a computer and began counting how long he had spent in this one month.*

*When something moved in his peripheral vision, he did not notice it. The thing moved, and continued to move, but the good doctor made no movement himself. It was not until the sound of snapping fingers rung out through the silence that the good doctor was forced to stop counting and finally see what was there, right in front of him.*

*The good doctor had long been numbed to the presence of other people. Their words and movements became blurred together and overly repetitive, giving him a sense of déjà vu every time he interacted with them. That's why he knew for certain that the thing in front of him was no man. The fact that it moved and spoke when the whole world should've been frozen was proof enough.*

*The thing extended it's hand, and spoke:*

*"Let us leave this place."*

*The good doctor could not ignore it's offer. He agreed, and the thing beyond time lead him to the place from whence it had come.*