Nothing again vanished into himself. Phil stood up and walked back to the man in charge.
"Sir, shall we begin to work again. I have a feeling we will reach the horizon sometime soon," smirked Phil.
"Glad to see you see it my way. The only proper way of course. We should get back to work. Break over!" cheered the man in charge.
Phil was determined to end this pointless jaunt. The other workers placed the wood, Phil placed the rail and other workers nailed them down. Once again Phil turned the rails slightly leftward every time they were too far to notice.
Eventually far into the horizon Phil could see the tallest building in the small town, their home. Phil was nervous never like before. Phil for once had argued with himself. His trust that his plan will go smoothly had been drowned out by the possibility of another out coming. Phil continued forward making no more of Phil turns and going only straight forward to the town.
Phil looked at the workers, who as always ignored the approaching town and saw only their task. The man in charge only looked at the workers. Phil realized there was little to worry about. Also that Nothing was right these men thought not at all about their fate.
Task was life, life allowed them to do task, task, task and only the task at hand mattered. Phil had his interest only within Everything, the beautiful being who saved him from a pointless doom without end.
Phil at last understood Nothing. Death lead to a good fate, eternal life was death. Torment and confronting your fears is not death, it is not hell. Hell is pointlessly journeying through the undead desert of Nothing. Nothing is the worst fate. Nothing gave you no meaning for your trouble. For all the heat, sweat, and pain you went through. It meant Nothing to Nothing. Nothing was full of himself. Though the scariest fact was apparent out of all is that the small town of the land of the Primeval Mother is in Nothing, and that forever meant Nothing. Suffering within the Primeval land was not torment or fearful or death. Her land is not hell. Meaninglessness is death.
Phil's journey only created more emotions and awareness of himself. Phil was prepared to go home, to face judgment and take whatever punishment for not listening to the man in charge.
There it was before them the small town a few yards away. Strangely the workers started to notice they were home and a task complete, they worked fivefold times faster. They smiled and cheered, Phil played along. The man in charge was perplexed. He didn't know what town they were in. He didn't think he reached his home.