Title: An infinite-minus-one ways the Doctor and River meet
Summary: An infinite number of timey-wimey ways the Doctor and River meet subtracting one library-wibrary meeting – which means a finite number of ways the Doctor and River meet. An impossible amount of possible meetings without any probable order, plausible logic or for that matter convenient purpose but with just a hint of paradoxical temperament and improbable whimsy.
Warning: Random humor is bound to happen, so be warned.
Of space-fungi and recreational mathematics
In which the Doctor and River meet, get spaced out on a forest of mushrooms and have a very very and slightly non-very philosophic conversation about … something sub-textual.
The interplanetary geo-grid Pacific 5.0 is a marvel among… well marvels. An underground dirty sort of marvel but a marvel nonetheless. It was the Doctor's favorite mushroom-haunt, infamous for being home to a most rare batch of Yuru-ruru-ruru-ruru-ruru-ruru – and it goes on for quite some time – fungi. A special species of the geni-ruru family which when boiled and spiced under the right circumstances and conditions makes a perfect out-of-this-universe-and-into-the-next transcendental soup.
Unfortunately when smoked and inhaled the huge black fungi become a highly hallucinogenic narcotic. The Doctor however had in his early days calculated the risk of accidentally setting the mushrooms, big as trees and covering an entire valley with their big fungi-clustering, on fire and simultaneously being exposed to the fungi's puffs of hallucinogenic wafts of fungi-fumes and the odds were calculated to something like 1 to .998... and slightly more. Which meant, basically, the risk of being infected with the hallucinogenic fumes was fundamentally zero.
Against all odds the forest of the yuru-ruru-fungi was raging with flames and smoke was wafting and drifting across the sky in ominous blacks clouds. It would have been something of a sight viewed from a safely distance but against all odds the Doctor's Tardis had landed him in the midst of the rampage.
Basically the Doctor was screwed – which was in fact the last coherent thought he had before he started feeling light-headed and giddy, or so Givean history books declare. However it is rumored among the triplet constellations of Gallabay that the last coherent thought he had was rather "Oh crap – there is something very important I am supposed to remember about the fungi smoke… but what is it? C'mon, c'mon – think…" The first seem as likely as the last – and the Gallabayian account seem just as liable as the Givean – mind you the two races wrought war and destruction on each other for centuries about this very dispute. An interstellar conflict only deteriorating when the Tri'wi brought along an old journal that disagreed with the two first accounts. The Doctor, to his credit, did try to aid the peace process but unfortunately no one believed him as an angry River had just nicked his inter-universal passport – but that is a story for another day.
Misfortune have it that when under the influence of anything yuru-ruru related the Doctor becomes endowed with the attention span of a goldfish, and thus it was that he quickly forgot about the importance of what it was he had forgot but really should remember – and instead decided to… well, did I mention the attention span thingamajig? –
"Ohh rabbit" the Doctor squealed and followed the small creature between massive trunks of mushrooms, his arms spread out wide and his lips drawn away from his teeth in a quite frankly horrid smile. Whether the rabbit existed or not still remains a very tantalizing characteristic of combining philosophy with current intergalactic probability-mathematic. Seeing as he did chase something which he categorized as belonging to the earth species cuniculus, whether factual or borne from his hallucinogenic mind, we have to assume the rabbit existed however briefly in the time when it was observed – for the Doctor did observe it no matter whether or not it was really there or not.
Regardless of the existence of the rabbit – of course rabbit aficionados will protest vehemently at this statement – the Doctor chased something, stumbling through the burning mushroom forest, his arms flailing and his long gangly legs flying both this and that way. He was a sight for sore eyes – and I'd imagine he was indeed a sight for the frantic rabbit who was trying to outrun him. Poor thing – not only did it have to come to terms with its own uncertain existence but it also had to bear witness to the oncoming storm in a most absurd outpour of weather-moodiness. Yes the poor little rabbit caught in the absurdum of existential crisis, not sure if it should run or not, if it should think or not – if it could think?
The Doctor stumbled a remarkable number of times and bearing in mind he is indeed ridiculous clumsy in his current regeneration, it still remained a remarkable amount of tripping and hugging the ground. He slipped and grazed his knees, he tripped and landed on his face, he fell over small stones you really have no business tripping over and he stumbled into trees that only the blind would miss – yes it was a dreadful chase through the mushroom-woods for the Doctor. Luckily he was stoned and every mishap was received with a laugh and a cry of 'Geronimo'. But sure as rain in the northern parts of Scandinavia (Earth Scandinavia) the Doctor would feel his bruised and battered body in the morning after – it is always the morning after with these hallucinogenic narcotic things isn't it?
The most possible, probable reason for this whole mess would obviously be to assume that the infamous Time Lord calculations were slightly off track – perhaps he had forgotten that the zig-zag ratio of positive and quite cheerful probability is merely the term for the likelihood-circulation of an unobserved variable – yes he had forgotten to square that root.
For the one thing he had overlooked – something which really should be considered quite an amazing achievement – is that when River Song enters the equation the probability factor rises significantly – and any distribution of unobservable variables scatters away in a feeble heap.
The Doctor followed the rabbit blind to his surroundings and it was really no surprise – to any of us – when he once again ran into something solid and ended up on the ground – again. His world tilted to the damp cold soil, his mind surely dazed and confused – or maybe that is spaced and confused?
And the solid thing he ran into, you ask?
It was something slightly human – as human as any 51th woman care to declare herself – and slightly more strange than normal.
"Ohh – pretty doctor-boy"
And this is – something which later on become quite an embarrassingly memory for the two involved, the relative middle of a tale of a time-travelling alien and another time-travelling alien. You might wonder why the both of them are classified as alien but I beg you; it's all a matter of perspective… and relative fractions of disturbing DNA-ish material.
"River, you set fire to the yuru – yuru-you pyromaniac"
"Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy. Maybe I did – maybe I didn't"
"No, no, no. Either you did or you didn't."
The Doctor would later on come to realize that the universal word for 'yes' never really did mean 'yes' when River uttered it – entirely. You see, with River there was always something hidden in the yes, there was always an echo of secrets that followed that small little word of affirmation. Much later on the Doctor would likewise come to the staggering discovery that when pressure was applied to certain parts of her body River would scream yes as well but that is a conundrum for an entirely different occasion – and should not really be talked about in certain circles of interplanetary society.
"Arson, parson, larson"
"Pretty boy, pretty witty"
"I'm a butterfly because I fly in time?"
"So do I – fly in time"
As you might have guessed; the intelligence quota seems to be stagnating at a frightfully swift pace. This is neither a groundbreaking nor an astute observation seeing as even a walnut could have drawn that conclusion. But from the viewpoint of the two time-travelling troublemakers, if one wanted to get inside their heads at such a time, their conversing is quite actually astonishing intellectual – even for a walnut. They might even describe it as being very very normal. And therein lies the rub. Nor-mal-li-ty – it doesn't really agree with the walnut, or time travelling aliens for that matter. The problem with normality… normality is just another alien and alas even that space-alien is under the influence.
"Oh no – I think I've miscalculated"
"Oh – that makes two."
"Two determinants of miscalculation"
"Oh yeah – I forgot my two hearts that's right"
"You're a two-too!"
"I'm a two-too!"
"That makes three"
"Yes… No… it makes four"
"No, no, no… we forgot the phi dimension"
"Two-too squared phi"
"No, no – not phi. The phi dimension"
"Aw – icky sticky recreational mathematics"
"Two-too-iterated to the happy factor"
It's not exactly rocket science – and it's most definitely not relative dimensional space science – but fortunately the conversation doesn't turn to the shrewd works of good-old Gh∆β who immersed himself in the philosophy of happy primes mating with the depressed ones. Count yourself lucky.
"Oh I feel strangely depressed"
"Oh – happy prime meets depressed prime"
Sigh – never mind.
A/N: Riight. This was just as weird for me as it must have been for you – and I wrote it. Got some more chapters worked out though for this is seriously too hilarious not to write.
The odds are that the next part will be (spoiler alert):
The story in which the 24th doctor is send to interrogate River about her involvement in an uprising of the fifth regiment of al'Dastas.
Though you never really know with probability and its teenage temper tantrums.