Work Text:
You've done it all, you've seen it all. Collected every achievement, looted every structure, and amassed thousands of xp levels. Hostile creatures are nothing but a nuisance, and every item you could possibly obtain is within your reach.
Gliding in with your elytra through the grand entrance of your megabase, pistons among pistons made way for their creator, redstone lamps lighting up along the hallway. You drift past your map room, listening to the sounds of your furnace array and storage system you spent weeks making quietly hum in the background, without a hint of wear. You pass your treasure room, your dragon egg but a small dot amongst the piles of shulkers of diamonds and other precious materials, stocked but never used. A flying machine cuts its way through a forest of bamboo behind the large stained glass panes lining the edges of the building, hopper minecarts aligned for maximum yield.
Looking out the window, you see nothing but the clouds, save for a slight glimpse of a swarm of world eaters deep beneath you, long dormant, and a few large automated farms off at the edge of your simulation distance.
It's all yours. And it always has been. Has anything really changed?
Many years ago, you recall, spawning in this world for the first time as a child.
Freshly generated trees and flowers bloomed around you, and the thick fog was still abundant in the vast expanse of untouched pre-release style terrain. The textures felt so new, so vibrant in your eyes, only having seen it once or twice before.
But as you chew on a golden carrot and look at the bleak, almost immutable world outside, the passing of time slowly presents itself to you.
Did you perhaps believe the world was truly endless?
You struggle to remember the last time you were able to enjoy yourself. Logging in and out and in and out, just as you have always done. Because it's what you've always done. Often wandering around in circles, collecting outputs from your farms, with really, nothing in mind to do.
Launching. Play selected world. Loading terrain. It's all second nature at this point.
As you moved deeper into your base, head aching under the weight of your enchanted netherite helmet, you questioned why you still wore it when hours of your life have been sunk into mob proofing the area. Was it self worth? Conventionality? Or even just the thrill that comes with the illusion of lingering uncertainty? As you released the W key, you turned around and stood there, you and your character, and pondered on the purposelessness of it all.
Was the time spent worth it?
Did your pains of trade cycling and desert draining amount to any true value?
Would things have been any different if you knew it would turn out like this?
A flash of memory. Dirt background, words scrolling across the screen.
You were young back then. You couldn't understand it, nor did you care. And the more dragons you killed, the more certain you had become that it was just a dream.
You recalled your early days strip mining, always avoiding caves. With every block you mined, every stack that filled your hand, did you perhaps feel a sense of fulfilment, believing there was a greater purpose? What was that greater purpose?
"What do I even have to gain from all of this?"
But you still gave it your all. Collecting, building. Mining, crafting. Believing it'll benefit your future. But now that future has arrived.
Behind the glow of a beacon, you open your book and quill, volume 271, and begin writing about your day. Yet another page in the ever growing sea of monotony.