Desperate for a way to overcome boredom, he used the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen. After several attempts, he discovered to his dismay that there were ways to get violently sick from gulping liquor but no possible way to get drunk in ten minutes!
He sat through endless cycles staring at the empty air; began to have wild thoughts and knew he was on the verge of insanity. And if he were losing the fight with boredom, he might as well try the other alternative: break the machine and hope it wouldn't blow up in his face.
Taking a long-bladed knife, he attacked the small mechanisms inside the globe. He probed, twisted and jabbed but they seemed indestructible.
Furious, he held it underwater with the hope that water would short-circuit "electrical contacts" if there were any.
When that didn't work, he beat it with a hammer, kicked it, threw it about the room and as a last result, dropped it from the window.
It bounced off the sidewalk fourteen floors below and attracted attention, but a few minutes later he was once more sitting in the chair and watching the sickeningly familiar ruby as it rolled across the sickeningly familiar table.
He stared at the telephone. If only it would ring; if only someone would call him and break the monotony! But that was impossible. At the beginning of each cycle, all physical things and events were exactly as they had been....
Telephone!
He could use it to break the monotony—he could phone all his friends!
He telephoned all his friends and talked with them for numerous ten-minute intervals that totaled days. Because they were always unaware of the previous cycles, his repeated phone calls never annoyed them. Sometimes he told them about the time trap but it was beyond their comprehension and they always thought he was drunk, so he learned not to mention it.