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Peter would have liked his life to be less exciting.
By which he means he would like to stop running into surprises. His first day of work was a surprise, for instance. He called a car to go into the office in the morning, and then he came back home in the evening, and he experienced absolutely nothing for the duration. Those damn vague not-memories there again, he vaguely knows he met people and got shown around the office and got taught what to do except it didn't really happen. So that was a nice panic attack to go through. The possibility that he could become an NPC like everyone else around him—well, it was the main source of his worries at the start of his existence, and he'd thought he'd left it behind, but clearly he hasn't.
It's reassuring, though, that he did get back and did become himself again. Somewhat. He's not sure why he went automaton when he went to work, but at least it didn't stick.
But it's not reassuring enough that his stomach isn't a ball of dread the next morning when he calls the car again. He considers switching careers, working from home, doing anything but going into that zombie state of nonexistence again, but before that, well... he has an experiment to run.
He tries paying attention. He pays attention to the car ride, and he pays attention to where he's going, and he pays attention to the building and the people and the things he does, and it works. He does manage to hold onto his self for the whole day, it's not even effortful, all he has to do is... want it.
And he wants it. Oh, boy, he really, really wants it. Becoming a zombie is just existentially terrifying.
Not being a zombie, however, is... incredibly boring. He was right, this job is soul-crushing, and it is especially soul-crushing because no one else is a person.
