There is a story that I read decades ago, in which a long line of people stretches from horizon to horizon. There are small communities which form amongst the people who are in the line. Eventually the protagonist makes it to the end of the line: a desk or some such in the middle of nowhere, gets a stamp or other form of official acknowledgment for having stood in line, but that is it, no reward or benefit.
I believe the denouement is that he does not know anything else to do other than go back to the end of the line and do it over again. His whole life had been spent in line.