Close Enough
this is requested by a friend on discord btw
It's been two days. Two days since that accursed message flooded the chat. Two days since Mumbo dropped his communicator, shattering it. Two days since the void grabbed ahold of an unlucky hermit. And in another couple of days there'd be the funeral.
Although, as his best friend, Mumbo was supposed to help set everything up, but he couldn't focus. Not without the gleeful laughter whenever he messed something up, not without the parrots dancing along to a jukebox, not without the short gremlin trying everything to stop Mumbo from overworking.
But he's gone, gone, gone. Gone.
<Grian fell out of the world>
That was the one sentence that tore everything on the server to shreds, including X's feeling of security. The feeling of failure, guilt and sorrow was heavy in the air.
And here Mumbo was, not writing the memoir for Grian, not finding a place to bury an empty casket, not trying to move on. He confined himself to his giant chestroom, spending hours trying to find all the redstone he had. And then mutely making his way to Grian's hobbit-hole. Every door that he hasn't stolen was opened.
You're in denial. He's gone. Gone. Gong. Grian had a gong. Everything he thought about led back to the one person he was trying to get over.
He went through Grian's storage room, trying to find anything that could help him. Even without a plan, he had an idea. One that the other hermit's would disapprove of, but still an idea. A spare notebook sat on the table beside his bed, full of small notes, sketches and an occasional spatter of blood and a bird feather.
He really did take this everywhere. He could easily imagine Grian trekking through the jungle, mapping out coordinates or whatever, and murdering any parrot he came across.
Crossed out notes dotted the pages, and, what Mumbo was looking for, a diagram of a person in a red sweater, grey pants, patches of metal on the arms and neck and dirty blond hair. Neat writing explained what was needed and Mumbo tore out those pages before heading back to his own base.
It would've been easier to reprogram what Grian made, but he had no idea where to start looking. So for now, he was stuck at square one, with a couple of notes.
~ • ~
Four days since Grian died. And another four days until the funeral. And Mumbo wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't want to see anyone but the person who was taken by the End.
"Mumbo?" Iskall poked his head down the hole, surveying what Mumbo was doing from above. "Are you okay?"
No. "I'm fine." As much as he wanted to burst into tears, he couldn't. He tried to open up, but nothing came.
"What are you doing?" he asked, gliding down beside him. Papers were scattered around, scraps of metal on the ground and a very exhausted Mumbo. Pulling an all-nighter left bags under his eyes, not that he wasn't used to it.
"Trying to figure something out," he said evasively. But of course Iskall noticed the patterns of wires and the diagram Grian made.
"NPC Grian? What are you doing?" Mumbo winced slightly at the name, but shoved that away.
"NPG was an almost exact replica of Grian, you know that. And I just... I don't know."
Iskall put a hand on his shoulder, and made him turn to face him. "Mumbo. I know, but he's gone, okay?"
"..."
"Look, I don't want to accept that either, but it's unnatural. Look at how NPG turned out; locked in a closet somewhere only G knows about."
"I can make it better, though. I got his notes and I see the problem. A small glitch in the coding controlling its decision-making-"
"That's not the point, Mumbo. It won't be the same. Besides, how are you going to explain a new Grian, when everyone saw that message? What would happen if he malfunctions? Redstone is tricky, robotics is worse."
"You and Doc don't seem to have problems," he muttered. "Just leave me alone." This is why I didn't tell anyone.
Besides, G always did risky stunts and it turned out less than bad; what's the worse that can happen?
~ • ~
Everything. Absolutely everything. And by the end of the day, Mumbo's hair was standing on end, his shirt was singed and had calloused hands.
How. Does. He. Do. This. He can break a multi-million diamond machine with a potato, can't even make a concrete maker, but was able to make a highly advanced, potentially destructive duplicate of himself?
He chuckled to himself as memories flooded his head. Like the time his villager farm broke and Grian waited until he woke up to tell him. And the time that he helped him dig out a creeper farm. Mumbo's fond laughter turned bittersweet and laced with tears.
Gotta finish. For him. He'd want this, right? He sighed and turned back to the shell of the AI. A few wires poked out of its left arm and the eyes completely lacked the spark that Grian had. Small things you only notice if you pay attention to those you truly care about.
~ • ~
"Test #37: state your name."
"Hello, my name is Green."
"Shut down."
Commencing shut down in 3. 2. 1. Shut down complete.
Mumbo sighed and sat down again, propping his head in his hands. It's useless. Absolutely useless. Iskall was right.
Good thing I'm stubborn.
~ • ~
Test #58: state your name," he slurred. Staying awake for almost three days in a row has that effect on you.
"Hello, my name is Grian!" he chirped. He sat up straighter and hopped off the table. So close, Mumbo could feel it. But he learnt to not let his hopes get the best of him.
"Grian?"
"Helloooo, Mumbo! Why are we in your base?"
"What do you know?"
"What do you mean, what do I know?"
"What happened when we opened Sahara?"
Pause, and for a second Mumbo thought he short-circuited again. "Failure with the fireworks," the Grian giggled.
"..." Mumbo wanted to believe that it was done, but testing, testing, testing, that's all robotics was about.
"Why are you crying?" the robot asked. It tilted its head slightly, almost like a human would. But the silver patches on its skin told another story.
Mumbo didn't even feel the tears prick at his eyes. "Are you you?"
Grian looked confused and walked over to Mumbo, with a small bounce in his step, before wrapping his arms around the taller. "Mumby, it's me, Gri," he murmured, smiling sadly.
Mumbo smiled, forgetting everything else that didn't matter.
No, you're not.
But it's close enough.
AAAAAA IM SO PROUD OF THIS! <3
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