Archive of Our Own

It started with an accident. Tango hadn’t even been working on redstone, he just spilled the dust everywhere while transporting it. And he inhaled a lot of it. He was moving all of his redstone components to his next build location; he was going to test a few game ideas. When he took off, holding a shulker box in his hands, a lag spike hit. The shulker, completely full of redstone dust, didn’t close properly.

In the rush of the air and wind, every last particle breezed over Tango and funneled deep into his lungs. The stinging in his eyes and chest was enough to send him crashing into the cliff face below him. He hit the rocky angles and slid, dropping the shulker. He rolled and rubble followed him. Tango landed harshly at the bottom.

[Tango fell from a high place]

The void was red this time. Tango didn’t tend to waste much time in the void after he died, he always preferred to recuperate in the real world, in his bed. But there was something so alluring about this crimson colour that made him stay. It was almost hypnotizing. And as he stared deeply into nothing but red, it was as if the lens of his eyes zoomed in and would not stop. He was visually propelled forward and physically felt nothing.

Tango coughed.

Dust billowed out of his mouth at each sputter, and it swirled in the air like oil in water. It stretched forward, then stopped. The dust froze, as if waiting for Tango to follow. Tango took a tentative step forward, the dust swayed again like a wave. Once it knew Tango was following, the dust slithered ahead to what waited in the far distance: a red pinpoint of light.

Tango blinked and they were standing before it. The pinpoint was now multiple feet long and tall. It was a scene—no—a model. Tango squinted, and the images around him became more clear. Made of red mist, pieced together perfectly before him, was a redstone model of a game component. Tango’s most recent idea was to create a functioning deck of cards to play any game with. The beginning of its model was right in front of his face.

Tango reached out to touch the model. As he poked the piston, it extended, pushing one place-holder card out of the way. The cards were large, human-sized, because that was the best way Tango knew how to detail them. This piston pushed them aside, but what Tango wanted was for the card to be pushed into a pile or the back of the deck, depending on what game they played.

As he thought it, the model changed. Tango looked over it, pleased at how compact it was, and shocked to see that the pistons could push the card back, or down into a pile. He walked around the model, taking note of the signals and timers. He wanted to see how it would all look with say… four decks in a circle—

It came to life. Tango laughed incredulously. He had no idea why this was happening but he decided that he did, in fact, like the red void. Tango wasn’t pleased with how close each of the decks’ wiring were to each other, so the model changed to compress it all. It would give Tango more wiggle room later.

Then, what if they wanted to play a game where piles could be randomly created and placed, like blitz? As he was wondering how he could manage that, the model began to rearrange itself. Tango grinned widely, eager to see it, before everything flickered to black, then red, then black again.

“Wait,” Tango urged, squinting as the model faded more and more.

When it was all gone, and the void was black again, Tango shook his head. He blinked. Then he ran a hand down his face and decided to finally respawn, wondering if he would remember any of it when he woke up. He did, shockingly, but was quite distracted by the concerned faces hovering over him.

“Tango?” Etho asked.

“What?” Tango asked, making no move to get up.

“You weren’t respawning for a minute there, buddy,” Skizz said.

Tango’s bed was in the corner of the room, meaning Etho and Skizz were boxing him in, and if they were concerned enough about this, they wouldn’t let him get away. He tested the waters by sitting up slowly, feeling mostly fine but a bit congested. He swung his legs over the side of the bed while Etho and Skizz shared a look. They then each sat on either side of him.

“I was carrying redstone,” Tango started. “Started flying and the shulker didn’t close so it all just blew into my face, and I crashed.”

Skizz burst out laughing. “That is golden!”

Etho chuckled too. “At least the respawn would have killed any redstone poisoning.”

“Yeah,” Tango said, wiping his eyes. He chuckled, then paused. “Well actually…”

How could he explain the red void? It was an incredible experience. Tango knew how to begin his next project because of it. He wasn’t entirely sure what caused it. It had to have something to do with the redstone dust he inhaled, but like Etho said, once Tango died it shouldn’t have had an effect. It didn’t have a chance to linger and absorb into his system.

“What?” Skizz prompted.

“Ah, it’s probably nothing,” Tango dismissed.

Part of him wanted to tell the others about it but he didn’t want Etho to go trying it, because he would if given the chance. And Tango hadn’t lied when he said it was probably nothing, because void dreams and hallucinations happened! Death does wild things to people. Respawns were finicky, and it likely wouldn’t happen again.

“You sure?” Skizz asked again.

Tango nodded. “Got an itch in my throat, must be placebo.”

“Keep an eye on it,” Etho said, nudging Tango with his elbow. “A slow respawn is a bit concerning so if you notice anything strange, tell someone.”

“Yeah, of course.”

**********

Tango was staring at a mess of redstone, sitting before it with his head in his hands, pulling at his hair because it was driving him crazy. Something was wrong with the piston timing and that should have been a simple fix but everything was so cluttered and hard to reach that he might have to dismantle things to fix it—which would undo so much progress.

He stood up one more time to try and figure it out, deciding to risk breaking one of the pistons and—like a rookie—he’d forgotten that there was an observer next to it. The piston’s absence sent a signal through the observer that slithered through the rest of the redstone. In a blink, the contraption was a mess. Pistons pushed blocks they shouldn't have, more observers sent signals at the wrong time, and dust flew through the air as it was broken and rearranged.

Some of said dust happened to waft into Tango’s face. The smell reminded him of that red void. He had almost forgotten about it, despite having visited it only a week ago. Tango blinked, and crouched next to the nearest pile of dust. He had died, which hadn’t been fun, but the void was wonderful when it was red. It was helpful and easy. Could he access that again?

Cautiously, Tango scooped up a handful of dust and sniffed it. He didn’t inhale. He just wanted to see…

“Tango?”

Tango dropped the dust and turned his head. Mumbo stood a few cautious feet away from the mess that was Tango’s sets of playing cards. He frowned, looking the redstone over, then looking Tango over.

“What’s happened here?”

Tango sighed and stood, forgetting the dust. “I broke a piston I shouldn’t have and it broke my whole project.”

“Oh, no,” Mumbo stepped into the mess to get a better look at the parts lying around them. “Could I help you rebuild it, maybe?”

Tango smiled lightly. “Not necessary, I have the blueprints.”

“It still might be nice to have company.”

“Yeah… maybe.” Tango summoned the blueprints from his inventory. “Thoughts on how to shorten this piston timing?”

Mumbo took the blueprints and stared at them for so long that Tango wondered if he’d forgotten the question.

“That’s tough without moving the decks a few blocks back from each other,” Mumbo said.

“I can’t move them any further because they need to read what the ones next to them have put down.”

Mumbo hummed and stared for another very long time. He stared and thought for so long that he and Tango ended up sitting down, side by side, staring and mumbling to themselves. They stayed like this for forty five minutes before Tango realized Mumbo must have other things to do.

“Did you need something?” Tango asked suddenly. “When you came to me?”

Mumbo looked up. “I think I did but I don’t remember what it was now.”

Mumbo went back to looking at the blueprints like he wasn’t ready to give up yet and Tango felt too bad to keep him here.

“This is dumb,” Tango said, stealing the blueprints. “I’ll figure something new out. Thanks for your help, Mumbo.”

“Aw, are you sure?” Mumbo asked, standing with Tango. “I’d hate for you to have to start from scratch again.”

Tango shrugged. “Maybe I won’t have to.”

He subtly glanced down at the redstone dust scattered about the grass.

Mumbo sighed and laid a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Take it easy for the night. Go get some sleep and come back to it another time.”

“Will do,” Tango said, reluctantly folding the blueprints back into his inventory. He then bent down to start gathering his redstone dust so it wouldn’t blow away. “Let me know if you remember what you needed from me.”

Mumbo waved a dismissive hand. “It’s gone for good now. You’re off the hook.”

Tango chuckled tiredly. “Alright.”

“Take care, Tango.”

“Mhm.”

Mumbo left and Tango was alone with a hefty bag of redstone dust and a very broken project. He hadn’t made any progress on this server in a couple of weeks. If his brain and Mumbo’s together couldn’t find this solution, would it ever get done? Tango shuffled the bag of dust from hand to hand, hearing it swish, watching the dazzling red swirl.

It didn’t hurt him last time. It wouldn’t hurt him this time.

Feeling like a teenager sneaking drugs for the first time, Tango glanced around, made sure Mumbo was gone, and he pressed the bag opening over his mouth and nose. He sat down on the grass and breathed it in like an oxygen mask. After each breath he felt like more of an idiot. Especially since all that was happening was his lungs tightening and his head beginning to float. Soon enough Tango was so dizzy and weak from breathing in dust that he couldn’t hold the bag up and had to lay back in the grass.

Of course, he realized—only when he was too weak to move—he probably had to die and access the void to trigger these hallucinations again. So Tango had the choice of either stabbing himself or shooting himself because there was no way he’d be getting up to fly and crash. And if he waited too long there was a chance the redstone poisoning itself would kill him, and he’d rather have a stab scar than residual poisoning when he respawned.

The message could potentially confuse some Hermits but hopefully this would be worth it.

[Tango was slain by Tango]

[Mumbo] woah woah woah

[Mumbo] what happened in the ten minutes i’ve been gone???

[Skizzleman] someone should make sure he respawns normally

The void was nether-red and Tango felt rich with inspiration. There was no doubt in his mind that this is exactly what he needed, and he would have his solution by the time dust wore off and the void fell black. Instead of coughing this time, Tango exhaled. Gracefully, swirls of redstone left his lips like dragon’s breath. He followed their path at a jog, seeing the red dot of a model in the distance. It was time to get to work for real.

[Mumbo] does anyone know where Tango has his spawn set? he’s not at his base

[Skizzleman] Oh no

[Skizzleman] If he hasn’t answered us then he probably hasn’t respawned yet

[Mumbo] oh dear

The model was beautiful. It was simple, and it seemed so instinctual—Tango should have thought of it! But now he had it. He turned the mechanism on and watched the red hologram move. The cards in the decks were perfectly shuffled and discarded. The right speed, the right location, everything was right. The next move was to create multiple patterns for it all to follow so they could choose between a few different games.

A new model materialized out of the ground a few feet away. Then another after that. Tango laughed incredulously and speed walked to the first one, shocked at the void’s genius. It was a pattern for Go-Fish—one that included a way to keep sets of cards even if they were passed on by other players. Though this redstone was quite clunky. It would be hard to hide…

Tango watched as the model shifted in slow motion, going through a number of ways the redstone could be arranged. Some ways were compact, to be hidden behind buildings, and others were able to be hidden below ground but left enough space for further improvement above it. Tango’s grin grew and he looked over the other pattern. This one looked equipped for a game of spoons, but some of the model looked blurry… as if the void itself was still figuring it out.

Tango squinted. The image flickered in and out of clarity. It was there, but out of reach. As if Tango was denied access. As if he needed a special subscription to Void Prime. Tango blinked, took a step back, and realized he needed more dust if he wanted to see the rest of it. There wasn’t enough to encourage the rest of the hallucination. Tango grumbled and turned back to the other two models, only to find them fading from existence too.

“No… not already!”

The red darkened. The models melted away. The red became black.

Tango sighed in the plain, useless void, and decided to respawn, seeing as how a good amount of progress was made anyway. If he took too much in, he might forget something later. He blinked his blurry eyes open and cringed at the feeling of a raw scar over his heart. He poked the spot over his shirt to gauge how bad it was and winced. He might have to tend to it.

Tango sat up slowly and flicked his bedside lamp on—at which point he made eye contact with Etho and screamed.

“Why are you sitting here in the dark?!” Tango yelled with a hand on his heart, breathing heavily.

Etho stood from a chair—it was not a chair Tango remembered owning—and stopped next to Tango’s bed. His red eye glowed, making Tango miss the shine of the models in the void.

“I fell asleep waiting for you to respawn.” Etho sat down in front of Tango, making intense eye contact. “I took over for Mumbo, who was also waiting for you to respawn.”

“That doesn’t make it less creepy.”

“Tango,” Etho said sternly, pulling down his mask. “That’s the second time you’ve had a slow respawn within a few days of each other. That is a problem.”

“There was almost a week in between,” Tango mumbled.

“This is serious,” Etho leaned forward, “why did you kill yourself?”

Something told Tango that if he mentioned the red void hallucinations to Etho, Etho would make him stop. But what Etho didn’t know was that Tango wasn’t respawning slowly, he was just choosing not to respawn and staying in the void on purpose. It was different and as far as Tango could tell, no more dangerous than any regular respawn and void experience.

“I was far away from home and too tired to make the flight,” Tango lied.

“Mumbo said you were frustrated with a project earlier. You weren’t taking your anger out on yourself, were you?”

“No!” Tango sputtered, genuinely shocked. “No. But I was exhausted and I just wanted to be home already.”

“This is how unhealthy respawning starts.”

“Nothing is starting. You have done the exact same thing before.”

“But I respawned quickly.”

Tango opened his mouth, hoping to say anything useful, and fell short. He clicked his mouth shut and glared at Etho, dying for this conversation to be done with. The second Etho left Tango would be scribbling the model blueprints down and trying to guess how long he was out for—with consideration of how much dust he’d inhaled.

“How do you feel?” Etho asked more gently.

Tango shrugged. “The scar’s a bit raw, but otherwise? Fine.”

“That’s good.” Etho hesitated, then he pulled his mask back up. “Go to sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will?”

“Yes.”

Etho left slowly. Tango almost wanted to threaten him into leaving. Now, Tango scrambled to his blueprint sheets and sketched out the rough models he remembered. He detailed everything he saw and thought of while he was in the red void in his notebook. He checked the time of his death message and realized with a pinch of dread that he had been dead for six hours. It had only felt like a few minutes.

This realization was a tad scarier than Tango ever would have admitted and he tried to ignore it. He found as the night went on that it unsettled him too much. He would not be trying that again. Supposedly, he had the hardest parts of this project figured out. There was no reason to run back to his redstone fever dreams like some addict.

**********

“Woah, woah, what’s wrong?” Impulse asked, pulling Tango’s scratching hands away from his hair.

Tango tried to tug his hands back but Impulse held them firmly. They were kneeling where Tango and Mumbo had sat to brainstorm ways to fix Tango’s piston timing. Now, the issue was that Tango had forgotten crucial parts of the redstone models he’d seen in the void a few days ago and he couldn't’ figure it out. He had been at it for hours now.

“Tango, buddy,” Impulse urged. “Talk to me.”

Tango groaned frustratedly. “I can’t do anything!”

Impulse’s thumbs ran carefully over the back of Tango’s knuckles. “Tell me about it. What’s going wrong?”

“Everything,” Tango scrambled for words. “I haven’t made anything good since Decked Out 2, and what if I never do again? This should be simple redstone.”

“No, no, you have done so many amazing things and you will do so many more.” Impulse ducked his head to meet Tango’s eyes. “That’s enough redstone for the day.”

Tango shook his head. Then he paused, glanced sideways at a patch of redstone dust, and looked back at Impulse with another head shake.

“No. I know what to do. I—I can do it. I know what to do.”

Impulse’s hands moved up to Tango’s wrists, his thumbs still making gentle circles. He continued to look Tango in the eyes, even though Tango wasn’t really seeing him.

“I’m sure you can, but for now you’re going to take a break and come back home with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

Impulse hesitantly let go of one of Tango’s wrists to hold his shoulder instead. When did he even get here? Why did he come to Tango’s redstone patch? What did he need—did Tango do something? Forget an event?

“I know, but this will all be here when you get back. Plus, it’s always better to get a new perspective after stepping away for a while.”

“But I need it now.”

Impulse squinted at Tango’s phrasing. He then started to get up and lightly pulled Tango with him. Tango stood, a tad shaky, and looked helpless at the machinery around them. Then he noticed how dark it was out. The sun had almost stretched below the horizon.

“Let’s fly home together and have something to eat. We can even talk about some next steps if that would make you feel better, but I would be a bad friend if I let you keep going tonight.”

Impulse clearly wasn’t going to leave Tango tonight, meaning Tango wouldn’t have a chance to see the red void anyway. Not without facing the wrath of the other Hermits and giving Impulse a heart attack. He would have to do it later in the night when no one would see his death message.

Tango sighed, “Okay.”

Impulse’s face lit up with a relieved smile. “Okay?”

Tango nodded.

“Then let’s go,” Impulse said, summoning his elytra.

Tango followed him home, flying at a slower pace than normal despite his eagerness to get there. They went to Impulse’s base and had a small supper of mostly vegetables. Impulse asked if Tango wanted to talk about the redstone and was pleasantly surprised when Tango said no. Instead they talked about some of the things Impulse was doing, and the amazing buildings popping up all over the server.

Eventually they headed to sleep. Impulse offered Tango a guest room, which Tango accepted. But Tango, of course, didn’t go to sleep. He waited for a few minutes before sneaking out to head to his own base. There, he picked up more redstone than he’d ever tried to intake at once, and put it in a bag. Then he headed to the nearest cliff and could finally breathe.

[Tango fell from a high place]

The red models came to life the second Tango opened his mouth, spilling out like waterfalls, swarming around him like hornets. He didn’t have to follow his cough of dust anywhere, it came to him like the void was just as eager as Tango was. They were partners. One with the genius of a million engineers, and one with access to the real world.

The card patterns reconstructed themselves for Tango to see. He whispered his relieved thanks and relaxed, knowing he would be able to fix this all again. Sure, he wasn’t able to figure out the next steps on his own in the waking world, but that was fine because he knew how to get his answers. That made him the real genius, didn’t it?

The models were extra bright this time. They were clear and crisp like they were no longer made of floating dust, but magic. Strong, fluid magic. As Tango finished examining one, a new model would float forward to meet him. It would break itself apart and rebuild slowly so Tango could see how it was done. If he needed to see it closer, the model would expand. If he needed something more compact, the model would change itself.

“What I need to fix,” Tango started out loud, “is the mix up that happens when players try to put a card in the same pile during Blitz.”

The models buffered and flickers before they swirled and changed. The redstone was laid out in an entirely new way for Tango to observe, and again, he was ecstatic. It was almost too easy, getting solution after solution, at such a low cost and in so little time. As Tango nodded his approval he was shocked to have the overwhelming sense that the void was smiling back.

“Man, you’re the best redstone partner I’ve ever had.”

And together they worked. But it was gone all too fast. After the next six or so model iterations cycled through for Tango to memorize, the models faded. Tango instinctively tried to summon more redstone from his inventory—but he had no inventory in here. He scrambled to get closer to the shrinking models.

“No, no, wait, I haven’t seen enough yet.”

The model disappeared and the void began darkening. It flashed from black to red and back again. Tango stood there empty and defeated, desperate for more. It was dangerous to respawn so quickly so many times but… he could wake up and do it again. He could take a break and draw some blueprints or write some notes in between.

Tango awoke.

On his communicator, the last message in the chat was his death message. Upon checking the time he saw that it was 4:30AM and some of the Hermits would be getting up to start their day soon. He shot out of his bed to get to his notes, only to stumble dizzily into the wall and remember he was not in his own base. He caught himself and shook his head, then found an enderchest to retrieve the things he dumped before dying. He didn’t have time to trip over himself, so he ignored the pain of his fall damage respawn and fell out of Impulse’s window to fly to his own base.

There, Tango ran up the stairs and dived into his desk chair to scribble furiously, uncaring of how messy it all was. As long as it was on the page and Tango wouldn’t forget it, he could make more and more progress. Once he finished drawing up as many blueprints as he thought he needed, Tango took to writing brief summary notes in case his sketches weren’t clear. That was when the next message came through.

[ImpulseSV] Tango where are you?

It was time to go. Tango pulled together another hefty bag of redstone in a pouch and headed outside to another cliff. He sat on the ground, langs dangling over the edge, and he put his redstone mask on. After one minute, the respawn pain caught up to him. He struggled to stay sitting up.

Soon it didn’t matter as a rough pair of arms hauled him away from the edge and ripped the bag off his face. Tango yelped and coughed, struggling weakly to get away or stand up. He didn’t have eyes on his redstone—oh this was bad. Tango’s arms were strapped to his sides and he was pulled against someone’s back, stuck in their lap.

“What are you doing?” Etho demanded.

“Etho, you gotta let me explain.”

“Then explain.”

“Let me go,” Tango breathed, “I’m not gonna run.”

“No.” Etho summoned his communicator to his hand and typed while still holding Tango. “Start explaining.”

“Who are you messaging?”

“Tango.”

Tango took a shuddering breath surprising himself. Surely if he was just honest and calm and he explained how the red void hasn’t hurt him, Etho would be reasonable. Though, Etho’s hold on him was desperate, strong, and just as cradling as it was restricting.

“I’ve been having these hallucinations,” Tango started, trying to force his body to relax. “They started when I had that first crash a while ago—if you remember?”

“I remember,” Etho said solemnly.

“And I inhaled all that dust? When I died the void was red—and it showed me all this awesome redstone—and it helped! I was able to figure out my cards.”

“Tango,” Etho’s voice was strained, “tell me you haven’t been doing it on purpose.”

“It has helped me so much. I never would have figured it out myself and I could even help you try it if you ever—”

“No. No more. You’re not doing this anymore.”

Tango’s heart plummeted. Without much thought, he started struggling again. Etho held on tightly, dropping his communicator.

“You don’t understand,” Tango pleaded, “I can show you—Etho—Etho I can show you.”

Someone new landed near them.

“Get that dust out of here,” Etho yelled to them.

“Stop,” Tango hissed, “I need that—stop it, Etho.”

Another couple of thuds landed around them and Tango knew he was doomed. Skizz crouched before him, grabbing his shoulders to help Etho keep him down. Tango watched Impulse fly away in the distance and knew that the dust was going with him.

“Impulse!” Tango yelled. “Wait—wait!”

“Easy, buddy,” Skizz said, voice soft. “What’s going on?”

Tango dropped his head, trying to lean forward and away from Etho—trying and failing to hide. He breathed quickly, eager to find the words to explain how much he needed that dust—how cruel it was of them to take it from him.

“I can’t do anything,” Tango sputtered, “I can’t do anything right I can’t—”

“Shh, Top, it’s okay,” Skizz soothed, making eye contact with someone behind Etho. “What do you need, buddy?”

“I need dust.”

“He’s addicted,” Etho said quickly, “we need to get him somewhere safe.”

Tango blanked. “Addicted? I’m not… no, I’m not addicted.”

As he began coughing, debatably from his lack of air—redstone in his lungs—Mumbo knelt next to Skizz with a potion in his hand. It was weakness, but Tango was going to pretend it wasn’t because there was no way they would do that to him! They would see soon that the dust wasn’t hurting him and that he felt so much more alive and productive when he had it.

“I have a spot in my city,” Impulse said from behind them.

Tango jumped and swiveled his head, hoping to see Impulse holding the bag of dust. He was empty-handed. This was ruthless. These people didn’t care about him at all. Tango ground his teeth together and flailed in Etho and Skizz’s holds with a new ferocity. His hair burst into flames.

“Woah! Tango!” Mumbo yelled, summoning a new potion. “You’re going to hurt someone.”

Mumbo splashed the potion over the group. Fire resistance. Tango cringed at its smell. Without having to fear Tango’s flames, Etho was able to wrestle his head back while Skizz and Impulse held his arms and body. He panicked, barely breathing, clenching his eyes shut. Why were they doing this? How didn’t he know they all hated him so much?

Mumbo spilled the weakness potion into Tango’s mouth. He choked it down with stinging eyes.

“It’s okay,” Etho murmured. “You’ll be okay.”

“Why did you do that?” Tango croaked, slumping.

“We love you.”

“No you don’t.”

Tango coughed. A small cloud of red fell past his lips. Maybe it was enough to let him see something. Tango summoned a lousy iron sword to his hand—it was instantly plucked away by Skizz. Gentle whispers coaxed Tango into giving up and lying back in Etho’s arms. He let himself be picked up and carried away. Etho and Impulse expertly flew Tango to the city, where Impulse had a sturdy room with one unopenable window on a top floor.

There, Tango was set into a bed, covered in cozy blankets. Skizz and Mumbo worked together to get him to drink water. Tango didn’t have much say in what happened to him from there on. Tango refused the food that was offered to him, but that didn’t last long as he was too weak to protest it when it was directly in front of his face. Since he was too incoherent to speak, nobody asked him questions and Etho told everyone what he knew.

At one point, Xisuma appeared. He was not pleased with Tango at all, judging by the hard expression on his face. Though, as Tango’s eyes widened, watching his hand come closer, Xisuma’s face softened. He whispered some soothing words and placed a gentle palm over Tango’s forehead, then the pulse point on his neck. He then observed Tango’s eyes with a deep frown.

“There should be someone in here with him at all times,” Xisuma said, everyone nodded like that was obvious. “He can not die again. Not for a while—at least two or three weeks, it’s not safe.”

“Is he gonna have to do this cold turkey?” Skizz asked.

Xisuma nodded. “Yes. One hundred-percent. I don’t want him anywhere near redstone until after those three weeks—maybe a month.”

Tango grimaced. Xisuma ruffled his hair, subtly telling him not to bother arguing.

“And what happens if he gets a hold of it again? Or dies?” Impulse asked.

“Redstone poisoning is always a danger, he could damage his lungs. And there’s always a chance that the redstone residue in his lungs could ignite if he gets too close to a torch,” Xisuma explained, eyes on Tango. “If he dies again so soon we could get a respawn error—he could be stuck in the void for a week or longer, he could have glitched wounds that take months to heal—or never do.”

“Hear that, Tango?” Etho asked.

Tango wished he had a stasis chamber set up. He could have timed it to pop him away right as it got dark and he could do this all over. When he escaped, he would do it. That was his plan. He was going to set up multiple—different locations every time he needed to. Maybe even two in quick succession in case Xisuma tried to teleport him back or something.

“I’m going to watch him for a while,” Xisuma said, “I’ve got a couple of jobs for the rest of you in the meantime. I’ll message you.”

Everyone left but Etho, who stayed nervously, shuffling on his feet.

“Are you okay?” Xisuma asked him.

Shocked by the question, Etho nodded, but hesitated further before whispering. “I’ve never seen him like that. He thinks we’re hurting him.”

“You are,” Tango croaked.

Etho wilted and Xisuma sighed, striding forward to corral Etho into the corner. They turned their backs to Tango and spoke too quietly for him to hear.

A minute later Etho walked to his side, put a hand on his chest, and said, “I’ll be back later.”

Tango was left with Xisuma, who sat in a chair at the side of the bed.

“You can sleep, or we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk,” Tango mumbled.

“It doesn’t have to be about what happened.”

“Then what?”

Xisuma shrugged. “What’s your favourite TV show?”

**********

When Etho came back it was at night and he brought Skizz. Xisuma left but not before whispering many things to Etho and Skizz, during which they all looked at Tango periodically. The weakness potion had worn off by then but it didn’t mean Tango had all of his energy back. Etho also wasn’t subtle about hiding the potions they had brought in. In fact, he set two weakness potions and a healing potion on the shelf against the wall opposite to Tango’s bed.

When each of them pulled up a chair, sitting and staring at him, it was clear that the big lecture was about to begin. Xisuma let Tango off the hook, but Etho and Skizz would never. First, Skizz summoned a cardboard meal box from his inventory and placed it on Tango’s lap. Tango opened it and cringed. The food looked delicious but Tango knew one bite would anger his stomach.

“You have to try,” Skizz said, holding out a fork.

“I’ll puke.”

“Try the potatoes then, it’s just butter.”

The meal consisted of mashed potatoes, steak, and asparagus. The steak was neatly cut into little squares. Tango wondered who had made the meal because it could not have been Etho or Skizz. Their skills stopped at cereal. Maybe pancakes. Tango took the fork and scooped up a small puff of mashed potatoes. He took the bite anticipating an immediate reaction to the greasy butter. Instead it took a few seconds for that single bite to sink heavily into Tango’s stomach.

“Not happening,” Tango said, closing the lid of the meal box.

“You need something,” Skizz said, reaching for a water bottle on the bedside table. “The potions and other stuff took a lot out of you.”

The ‘other stuff’ being redstone. Were they never going to say the word again? As if it would send him into a frenzy. After talking to Xisuma about nothing important for a couple of hours, Tango mellowed. He was angry and itching to get back to his projects, but he had calmed down from the feeling of betrayal. His friends were worried. They weren’t trying to hurt him, they just didn’t understand the situation. Tango could explain it now that he was calm.

“I’ll try again later?” Tango offered, trying to seem reasonable.

Skizz frowned but he nodded and took Tango’s food to set on a side table. Then Etho took over.

“We have to talk about this,” he said.

“We do,” Tango agreed.

Etho didn’t like that answer for some reason, Tango could tell by the twitch of his eyes. But Tango agreed with him!

“You are a redstone genius,” Etho started. “You used to tell me that the best part about redstone was figuring it out when you got stuck.”

Starting with the big guns, apparently.

“It is,” Tango said slowly. “But now I get the satisfaction of figuring it out without the struggle.”

“The struggle is what makes it so satisfying. The struggle is what makes it impressive.”

Ouch.

“But I can enjoy the idea and final product without the frustration and doubt that comes with it.” Tango bunched his fists together in the bed covers. “I was feeling so awful—nothing was working and I was on the verge of giving up.”

“You did give up.”

“Etho,” Skizz said warningly.

“You made the void do it for you. You didn’t figure anything out yourself. It might have been your idea but it wasn’t your work and it wasn’t your genius.”

Double ouch.

“But…” Tango couldn’t meet Etho’s eyes. “Maybe I can learn a little, and then I won’t need it anymore.”

“You don’t need it,” Etho said quickly. “You have all of the knowledge you need to figure those complex problems out. You won’t learn anything, you’ll just die.”

Tango scoffed, false composure lost, “It’s not doing anything to me.”

Etho’s head jutted forward and shook in disbelief, “Not doing anything—”

“Tango,” Skizz interjected, “other than the fact that you are addicted to huffing redstone—”

“Don’t say it like that,” Tango whined.

“And you could suffer from terrible redstone poisoning and the negative effects of general addiction… you’re dying far too often. You will start to struggle respawning.”

Tango shook his head, mouth open to protest, when Etho cut him off again.

“Your wounds won’t heal right. You’ll get chronic pain or sickness. If the redstone poisoning kills you after so many deaths you could have permanent lung damage. And if you don’t stop after all of that, you’ll get respawn errors. You’ll respawn in the wrong places, you’ll take days or weeks to come back.” Etho pulled down his mask. “Eventually you might not come back at all.”

“... Etho.”

“So if you think for one second that we are letting you out of our sight—or near redstone alone again you are mistaken. I’m not playing with your life.”

Tango’s eyes stung. This was all very complicated. He didn’t know what to say. He knew Etho was right. That didn’t change the fact that his mind was on the dust and it was too easy to ignore the consequences. But some of those words hit hard. Tango wasn’t being impressive, he wasn’t being clever. He was being lazy and dangerous and now everyone had to watch him. And Etho was pissed off.

“Tango,” Skizz said gently, rolling his chair closer. “It’s okay, buddy.”

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispered.

“Come here,” Skizz prompted, lightly tugging on Tango’s shoulders.

Skizz wrapped Tango up in a hug. Tango buried his face in Skizz’s shoulder so he wouldn’t have to look at Etho. But, Etho’s hand fell gently onto Tango’s back.

Then Etho whispered, “You’re gonna be okay. Everyone on this server is going to make sure of it.”

This was going to suck.

**********

It did suck. For a very long time. It was days before Tango was allowed to leave that room. Another few until he was allowed to leave the building. Then he had to be monitored until those three weeks were up. He only tried to get to his redstone once that whole time though! Which got him sent back to confinement for a little while… but that was two whole weeks ago and now he was out running errands with Etho.

All was fine until it got dark. Tango and Etho chatted while they strolled through Hermitcraft, on their way back to Etho’s base where Tango was staying and within which all redstone dust was hidden. There was a small group of mobs ahead, hidden behind the trees. They jumped Etho and Tango, but it was only zombies and one witch that narrowly missed them with a potion.

Etho sliced through the zombies with ease and Tango ran the witch through with his sword. She fell against the base of a tree stump. As Tango pulled his sword out of her chest, his eyes caught on red spilling out from her side. His first thought was that it was blood, but as he looked directly at it, it twinkled. Dust spilled out of her pocket. It was sparkly red dust and Tango had already dropped his sword in shock.

There was no good reason it should have had such an effect on him—he hadn’t been that addicted. The sight of it shouldn’t freak him out. It had never gone that far—it only took one Etho lecture to get him to try and stay away from it—why—

“Etho,” Tango whispered, backing away, reaching blindly behind him for Etho.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the dust. If he did it might swirl to life and choke him. Etho’s hand found his immediately.

“Are you hurt? What’s—oh.” Etho turned Tango away from the witch’s body and hurried them back towards his base. “It’s fine. You didn’t touch it. You’re not in danger.”

Tango blinked, eyes wide, brain frazzled. It was stupid. It was so stupid—how was he ever going to work on redstone again if he couldn’t even look at the stuff? So what if he killed himself a few times to get crazy redstone poisoning hallucinations—it wasn’t a big deal. Redtsone was his life. He couldn't live without it forever. Maybe he needed exposure therapy. He could run back and touch it, just to prove to himself it was fine— he could even hold it up to his face and test himself—

Oh. Uh oh.

“Etho,” he whispered more urgently.

“Almost home. I see it ahead.”

Etho’s hand was tight around Tango’s until they got inside. The second Etho closed the door behind them, he pulled Tango into a steady, strong hug. Tango hugged him back harder than he knew was comfortable.

“That’s not fair,” Tango said, face neatly hidden against Etho’s chest. “Looking at it shouldn’t do anything.”

“Redstone is highly addictive,” Etho soothed. “It’s one of the many reasons we wear masks while working with it. It’s why Xisuma tested our redstone knowledge before he ever let us work on projects alone.”

“You’d think I’d have built up a tolerance after all these years.”

Etho shook his head, slightly ruffling Tango’s hair with his chin. “The fact that you haven’t, supposedly, is a good sign that you’ve had low exposure. You’ve been safe.”

Until he’d gotten a pinch insecure and for some reason that led him to drastic measures.

Pathetic, Tango thought.

“What if I never get to work on redstone again?” Tango asked, turning his head.

“You will. I know you will. And if you can’t do it alone, I’ll be there. So will everyone else.”

Tango sighed. “The second we turned away I wanted to go back and touch it.”

Etho chuckled lightly, which was not the reaction Tango expected.

“Well good luck now because I sent Impulse to clean it up.”

And nobody else on the server left redstone easily accessible. Tango pushed away from Etho dramatically and kicked off his boots. He went immediately to the kitchen to wash his hands. Etho stayed up that night until Tango went to sleep. He may have also stayed up even after that and into the morning. Tango knew this because Impulse came over in the morning to make Etho go to bed and make sure Tango didn’t run off and do something stupid.