//------------------------------//
// Numbers 
// Story: Against All Odds: Derpy's Greatest Misadventure 
// by Mannulus 
//------------------------------//

	Derpy hovered over the mantlepiece, adjusting an old, framed family photo.  She had drawn back the curtains to let in a little light, and a cup of tea sat steaming on the mantle itself, untouched.  She hadn't been able to bring herself to drink the stuff in nearly three years.  It reminded her of something she would rather forget; a time when she had betrayed somepony who, under better circumstances, might well have been one of her best friends.
That was just one strange, ugly memory from a recent stretch of strange, ugly memories.  They were piling up, it seemed;  the mental baggage of too many misadventures in too short a time.  Even the family photo she was adjusting took its turn in giving her heart a moment's ache.
It was not the image itself.  For the first time in years Derpy felt at peace with her memories of her mother, and she was doing her best to make amends with her father.   What bothered her was how much it reminded her of the one Twilight Sparkle had sent Princess Celestia.  Through various twists and turns of fate, she had ended up showing a copy of that same photo to the dragon, Xindathrana, mother of Spike the dragon, and the most hateful creature the pegasus had ever met.
Thinking about that dragon made her recall another dragon that had nearly killed her: the one that had ultimately been the end of Withers Deathray, the old lunatic unicorn who would have snuffed out the life force of every single pony in Ponyville, just to make a point to Princess Celestia.  What that point was, Derpy still could not imagine, but if his motives had made any sense, Deathray would have been a poor example of a mad scientist.
It was funny, really; In recent memory, she had been all but certain she was going to die more than she wanted to remember, and yet here she was, hanging a picture that her father would likely take down as soon as she left his house.  Still, she wanted to see it hanging there, if only for the moment's solace it might give the both of them in remembering that once upon a time they had been a normal, happy family.
"You gonna drink that stuff?" asked Hearse, nodding from the doorway at Derpy's tea. "It's gonna get cold."
"Oh, I don't drink much tea anymore," said Derpy. "It makes me a little sick to my stomach sometimes."
She eased her hooves to the floor, and took the teacup from the mantle.
"I'll have a sip or two, though," she said. "Don't want it to go to waste."
Hearse stepped into the room, and looked around.  Derpy had returned most of the old paintings and photos to the walls, and he sighed at them, shaking his head slightly.
"I forgot about most of these," he said. "Well, except that one over there."
He nodded towards a photo of Derpy's mother in her wedding dress.
"Never did forget that one.  Just didn't want to look at it, anymore."
"It's a nice picture," said Derpy, but her voice cracked slightly.
She bit down hard on her lower lip at another renewed memory.  This one stabbed deeper than all the rest, and Derpy took a sip of her tea to try and chase away the cold sensation that flooded through her heart.
Somewhere far to the south, in a barren land where nothing beautiful grew, Queen Chrysalis reigned in a perpetual, muted misery.  There was no way in one lifetime that any mere pony could ever become a thing so wretched; always desiring love, but so unlovely that it would never be offered to them freely.  It was the worst existence that Derpy could imagine, defined by a need that could only be met in a way that destroyed the significance of the selfsame thing that met it.  Where the changeling queen had come from and whether she had always been as she was were questions that Derpy had pondered many times since the day she met her.
In the end, that experience of meeting a being so ruined in every part of her soul had rekindled the faint, dying spark of courage that had allowed Derpy to dare try once more to love -- to dare try and be whole.  No, in one lifetime, no mere pony could ever become so wretched as Queen Chrysalis, but Derpy was certain that if she had not met the haggard, despondent queen, she would eventually have become something as near to it as a pony possibly could be.  In a way, Queen Chrysalis had saved her from that fate.  She felt she owed the changeling for that, but it was a debt far beyond her power to pay.  Nopony could ever be as wretched as Chrysalis, and nopony could save her, either.  It was impossible.
"So, your daughter," said Hearse, and stopped to scratch at his chin. "Dinky, was it?  She was telling me about school in the kitchen a minute ago.  How are you affording a school like that?  Princess Celestia's school is an expensive institution, last I heard."
"We don't pay," said Derpy. "It's a... special arrangement."
"Something to do with that first guy you married?" asked Hearse. "He went to that school, didn't he?"
"Uh, yeah," said Derpy, "but it's nothing to do with that.  It was just a lucky break.  I'll tell you the whole story some time."
The two stood in silence for some time.  Derpy stared at her tea, only taking one tiny sip.  Just when she thought she could bear the silence for not a moment longer, her father spoke.
"You happy, Ditzy?" he asked.
The question took the little mare so off guard she could barely manage a confused grunt in response.
"With your life?" said Hearse. "You happy with that... Chill Breeze?"
"I think so," she said. "I feel better about things than I have in years.  I've had to work through a lot of... hard times, lately, but I think I can see the other side, now.  That's why I came here.  I always wanted to, but I had to sort myself out, first.  I couldn't let you see me when I was..."
Her sentence trailed off.
"Was what?" asked Hearse.
Derpy drew a deep breath, and shrugged.
"Nothing," she said, not even sure of how she meant for her father to take the word.
Apparently, he was no more sure of how to take it than she was of what she meant by it.  He seemed to puzzle over it for a moment, and finally yawned.
"Well, it's still mid-afternoon." he said. "Be awhile until sundown, and I need to go get an hour or two's worth of shut-eye.  I have to work tonight.  Your, uh, boyfriend... And Dinky; they're out back making cloud angels.  Waste of time with how fast they vanish, but she seems to get a kick out of it."
Derpy forced a smile at her father.
"Before you go to bed, I know it's kinda pitiful to show up here and ask, but is there anything I can do for you?  Anything that would make you happy?  Make you forgive me for staying gone for so long?"
"Wasn't really holding a grudge," shrugged Hearse. "I wouldn't have stayed here with me, either.  Must have been awful for you.  I'm just glad to see you've got it together."
Derpy could not suppress a bitter chuckle.
"If I've got it together," she said, "I don't deserve it."
"What makes you say that?" asked Hearse.
This time, it was a snicker that she could not suppress.
"What doesn't?" she asked. "I don't even have a job at the moment.  I'm trying to open a dance studio in Ponyville, but nopony is taking it seriously.  They all think I'm just the same old goofball klutz -- which I am."
"But you are trying?" asked the bat pony.
"It's all I can do," said Derpy, "but yeah."
"Then you deserve it," said Hearse. "Whatever you can make of yourself, you deserve it."
He turned and headed down the hallway towards his bedroom, leaving Derpy alone in the den.  She turned and looked once more at the photo of her mother in her wedding dress, and sighed.
"Haven't made much of myself," she said, "so I guess I don't deserve much."
There came then the sound of several taps from the direction of the front window.  She turned towards it expecting to see Chill or Dinky, and nearly cried out in shock at what she beheld.
It was none other than Discord, and he was waving at her with a wide, gleeful grin.
"Oh my," she said, and she backed away several steps in fear.
Then, the doorknob rattled momentarily, and the front door opened.  Who should stand there, of all ponies in the world, but the Doctor himself?
"Oh no," said Derpy, shaking her head violently left and right. "What are you doing here?" She pointed at Discord. "With him!?"
"Ah, well... Would you believe we need your help?" asked the Doctor, adjusting his tie awkwardly.
"No," said Derpy. "No, I would not."
"Well, neither would we," said the Doctor, "but..."
Derpy cut him off.
"I asked you very politely to never drag me into any of whatever it is you are and whatever it is you do again," she said.
"Believe us, we know," came Discord's voice, both from within the room and from far too near for him to have approached unnoticed.  Derpy turned to find him immediately to her right.  "Really, if we had any other option -- at all -- we would have taken it."
"I don't find that the least bit comforting," said Derpy.
"You really shouldn't," said the Doctor.
"Then we're all on the same page!" said Discord gleefully.
"Look," said Derpy, "this is my dad's house, and my daughter and boyfriend are here.  You can't be here, and if you don't both leave, I'll scream.  Now, go."
"Suits me," said Discord, and in a flash Derpy found herself standing in the Doctor's lab back in Ponyville, Discord to one side of her, and the Doctor to the other.
"I didn't mean for you to take me with you!" she cried.
"That wasn't stipulated," said Discord.
"Well, I do feel it was at the very least implied," said the Doctor.
"They're going to notice I'm gone!" shouted Derpy. "They'll be worried; you have to send me back!"
"Don't worry," said Discord, pulling out a TV remote. "I have them paused."
"You have them what?" asked Derpy.
"It's not important," said the Doctor. "It is highly unethical, but it's not important."
"What's important," said Discord, "is that we have selected you for a mission of paramount importance -- a mission to which only you, of all ponies, are suited."
"I don't want to do it," said Derpy.
"Tough muffins," said Discord.
"Don't you even want to know what the 'it' you don't want do is?" asked the Doctor.
"No!" shouted Derpy. "I quit the Equestrian Parcel Service because I was sick of this kind of thing coming up, and, yes, without even hearing what it is, I know this is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about!"
"Oh," laughed Discord, "In ways you would not even believe!"
"You are entirely too happy about this situation," said the Doctor, scrutinizing Discord with a raised eyebrow.
"It's probably the end of the world," said Discord. "If I don't take it in good humor, I imagine the whole affair is going to be terribly depressing."
"Probably the what, now?" said Derpy.
In a flash, Discord materialized a chest-length beard, a cup full of loose change, and a cardboard sign with "THE END IS NEAR" scrawled on it in black permanent marker.
"It's the end times!" he cried. "Repent of your inequities and be gathered unto the red-maned hairless ape goddess!"
"Discord!" shouted the Doctor.
"Yes, sinner?" asked Discord.
"Focus, please."
"My focus is squarely on she who shall redeem us when the cleansing fire falls from heaven!"
The Doctor ran his hoof down his face and sighed.
"Maybe I should be the one to explain this," he said.
In an instant, Discord's sign and beard disappeared.
"How dare you!?" he said indignantly, laying a claw on his chest. "It's my doomsday machine.  I get to explain it."
"Go right ahead," said the Doctor.
Discord cleared his throat, and gave a hum.
"Where do I begin?" he mumbled.
"At the beginning, please," said the Doctor. "She's a temporally linear being.  You can't just start in middle and work out towards either end!"
"I disagree," said Discord. "Some of the best stories ever told start in media res."
"I'm trying to keep this simple," said the Doctor. "You are not helping."
"Fine," said Discord, huffing in exasperation.
"Wait," said Derpy, "How did you two even end up..."
"WE'RE GETTING THERE!" shouted Discord and the Doctor in perfect unison.
"Slowly," said the Doctor.
"Sorry," said Derpy.
"Now," said Discord, "When I was younger and less foolish..."
"You mean younger and more foolish?" asked Derpy.
Discord blinked several times, tilting his head left and right.  Finally, he shrugged.
"When I was younger," he said. "You know; back before ponies --  I'm old, by the way."
"Really?" asked the Doctor. "You don't look it."
"Thank you," said Discord, "but the point is I was young, once.  Well, younger, anyway, and I, like all young beings born of the swirling madness at the center of all that cannot be yet is, had a dream.  That dream was to see all the world plunged into perfect, ultimate, eternal chaos.
Now, I know what you're thinking:  'You're Discord; the Discord.  Surely there was nothing stopping you from doing such a thing, if you had really wanted to.'  Well, you'd be right; there wasn't.  There still isn't.  I could do it right now.  Freaky, huh?
The problem is that sustaining that sort of cataclysmic disarray is taxing.  Not even I can maintain it in perpetuity.  In fact, if I tried, I have strong suspicions I might explode.  How strong?  Strong enough I haven't tried, and I'll try almost anything at least twice.
However, there was no reason I couldn't apply the basic principles governing my magic to the creation of a machine that could maintain perfect eternal chaos.  As soon as I realized that, I set to work building just such a device.
It took awhile.  It's hard to build when you don't have a body, and life was kind of a new thing back then.  There wasn't even anything I was interested in perverting and twisting into a physical manifestation for myself yet, you see, so I had to go about it purely through telekinesis and reforging and recombination of naturally existing materials through purely magical means.  I sort of lost track of the calendar, in fact, but by studying a little geology and taking measurements of erosion and so forth, I've since estimated it was maybe half a million years, tops.  Honestly, it felt longer some days, but it was a tedious job.
When I was finished, I was of course quite proud of what I'd made, but there was a problem: it needed time to come up to speed -- and when I say it needed time, I mean it needed TIME. It's been working ever since then, all of its various parts rolling and turning against one another at such a slow rate that not even the mountains themselves would have noticed the motion before they were worn away and replaced with new mountains.  The thing is, though, it speeds up exponentially, and if the Doctor's calculations are correct, it's going to go from what a mortal might take for a dead stop to a state of full-speed operation by about the end of this week.  At that point...  Well, whatever you had planned for that day, you can forget it."
"What happens when it reaches full speed?" asked Derpy, her blood already chilled.
"Total inversion of all probability in the known universe and likely beyond," said Discord. "The least likely things to ever happen will become the most likely, and vice versa.  You know how you think, 'Ah, a super-volcano's not going to erupt this afternoon and plunge the world into nuclear winter?'  Or those mornings you get up and say, 'An asteroid's not going to strike the planet today; what are the odds?'  How about, 'Surely after those disastrous prequels, they won't make another Star Horse movie, further ruining and abusing the franchise by cluttering our memory with more boring, magically-enhanced effects when we all know it was the low budget practicals of the originals that made them special?'
Well, what if you were wrong!?  What if all those things and worse were not only likely, but very nearly inevitable!? That's what my machine does.  Technically, it would be considered a fully analog metaphysical probability inversion engine.  Hence, I briefly went with the acronym: FAMPIE.  But that sounds stupid, so I usually just call it 'the engine,' or 'the machine,' or some such."
"Well that's... ominous and terrible," said Derpy.
"I know," said Discord, smiling. "Isn't it neat?"
"No," said Derpy, "but how can a machine do all those things you just said? It's... just a machine, right?  So many gears and springs?"
"Once again," said Discord, "in ways you can't begin to imagine, but that's beside the point.  Were you not listening?" said Discord. "It's a fully analog metaphysical probability inversion engine!"
"I am not Princess Twilight," said Derpy. "Heck, I'm not even Rainbow Dash."
"We know," said Discord, "and that's why you're here."
"Look," said the Doctor, "It works like this, Ditzy."
"I thought your name was Derpy," said Discord, looking momentarily confused.
"Funny story," said Derpy. "but I'll answer to either one."
"Would you both please stop derailing the conversation?" asked the Doctor.
"Sorry," said Derpy.
"Not sorry," said Discord.
The Doctor huffed for a moment, then drew a breath.
"Listen, Ditzy," he said. "Everything -- and I mean EVERYTHING -- can be mathematically expressed and explained.  Even matter could, given a LOT of time and effort, be shown in every aspect of what it is numerically.  Everything that has ever been or will ever be, in a very real sense, is just a lot of numbers.  You, me, even Discord there; we're all just numbers compressed through a mixture of chance and design into animate beings.  Everything we do every day is governed by these numbers, and though the universe is an essentially orderly system, there are so many variables that it's impossible to ever fully predict."
"You lost me," said Derpy.
"All you need to know is this," said the Doctor. "The engine generates a field that takes every single manipulable variable with which it comes into contact, and turns it on its ear.   It makes every positive value negative and every negative positive.  It makes imaginary numbers real, and real numbers imaginary.  It makes absolute values relative.  It divides by zero while carrying the one.  It thinks in binary and uses the number three, because it's so crazy it skipped two."
"That all sounds really terrifying," said Derpy, "but could you explain it without the math?"
"It makes the least likely thing to happen the most likely," said Discord. "However probable anything is, upon exposure to the machine, it becomes just that unlikely, and vice versa."
"Oh," said Derpy. "Is that bad?"
"It's terrible," said the Doctor. "Not that nothing good could ever come out of it, but think of this:  How often in your day-to-day life does something really, truly terrible happen?"
"In my life?" asked Derpy. "I think you're asking the wrong pony."
"Okay," said the Doctor, "that was a bad way to phrase the question, but in fairness this is precisely why we need you."
"I don't get it," said Derpy.
"As we said, the engine should be coming up to speed, now.  It has sat for so long without accomplishing its intended purpose that mathematically it is becoming more and more likely that the machine simply doesn't work.  Because of the way it was designed, however, that is actually making it more and more inevitable that it does work, and will soon activate fully. Before that happens, someone has to go inside the engine and disarm it.  Easily done, except that the engine has already reached a great enough speed that it can generate a field at least as large as itself.  That means that only a pony who, by rights, should have almost no chance of getting inside and stopping it has any chance at all."
"So that's why you picked me?" asked Derpy. "Because I'm a habitual failure!?"
"Not in so many words!" said the Doctor, waving his hoof in front of his face defensively.
"But in many, many more," said Discord, "yeah, pretty much."
"It's not as bad as it sounds, Ditzy!" said the Doctor. "Remember; Discord has eyes and ears everywhere, and he also has friends who know a lot of what goes on that most ponies never hear about.  We know for a fact that you've been through several situations that should have killed you -- that you had extremely, unbelievably bad luck, and only ever survived because of chance occurrences over which you had no control and could have done little to influence.  You have a history of succeeding where every law of physics and probability -- where the universe itself -- says you should fail!  You're the only pony in the entire world who is a bona-fide, legitimate veteran at exactly what we need you to do!"
"Which is something I'm guaranteed to DIE trying to pull off!?" said Derpy.
"EXACTLY!" said Discord and the Doctor, once again in perfect unison.
"No way!" said Derpy. "There has to be somepony better qualified for this kind of thing!"
"But don't you see?" asked the Doctor. "Being better qualified makes them worse qualified!"
"Why can't you do it Discord!?" asked Derpy.
"Don't you understand?" asked Discord. "I designed and built it; I know more about how it works than anyone.  If anyone should be able to succeed in disarming it, it's me, and that means I would surely fail!"
"Well, what about you then, Doctor!?" whined the pegasus.
"I... might have... helped him build it," said the Doctor.
"WHY!?" Derpy shouted.
"I wanted to see if it would work, okay!?" blurted the Doctor. "I didn't quite consider that by helping create it I was making it highly unlikely that I could later dismantle it!"
"Well, are you satisfied?" asked Derpy, angrily. "Does it work?"
"Oh yes," said the Doctor. "I used the basic principle to design a small ray-based variant.  Shined it on a venture capitalist.  He had a sudden attack of conscience so severe I had to save the poor lout from diving out a thirtieth story window."
"Wow," said Derpy. "This thing is bad news."
"I destroyed that ray," said the Doctor.  "Some things shouldn't exist."
"Look," said Derpy. "Just get Twilight Sparkle and her friends to take care of it; they're, like, super heroes!"
"Which means they have basically no chance," said Discord.  "Has to be you."
"What about Princess Celestia?  Can't we tell her?  Surely she could think of..."
"Too powerful," said the Doctor. "Same story."
"And this is like really, probably, almost definitely the end of the world if I don't do this?" asked Derpy.
"It's a little more certain than that," said Discord. "The end of the world is something that's certain to happen eventually, so the machine won't stop it from happening.  It's just that it's not very likely to happen, say, next week.  The machine will make it incredibly likely to happen every single day until it does."
"How many days will that take?" asked Derpy.
"Three or four, maybe," said the Doctor.
"Sounds about right," said Discord, "Provided it isn't, you know, basically instantaneous."
He stopped and scratched at his head for a moment.
"Now that I think about it," he said, "That's actually really likely; I mean what are the odds the universe is going to end?  If it goes straight to the top, then...  Wow.  What was I thinking when I designed that thing?"
"What if I still don't want to do it?" asked Derpy.
"Well, look at it this way," said the Doctor. "Do you think it's very likely you'd change your mind later?"
"Haha," grumbled Derpy.
"So, you're on board?" asked Discord.
"I guess so," said Derpy.
"GREAT!" shouted both Discord and the Doctor, in unison for the third time.
They stopped and looked at each other for a moment.
"You finish explaining," said the Doctor.  "This is becoming awkward."
"Alright," said the Draconequus. "When it begins to activate, the machine is programmed to rise up out of its hiding place in the ocean.  It's so large that the abyssal plane was the only place I could conceal it, but it can't fully activate there; the pressure and water resistance will keep the mechanisms from operating at full power.  To keep it from being easily tampered with before it reaches full capacity, it will elevate itself well above the surface of the water. We're going to need an airship to get close, but there are autonomous defenses mounted all over the whole engine... Also deathbots.
"Death... bots?" asked Derpy.
"Deathbots," said Discord. "So, the ship has to be an armed one with a full crew that knows how to fight.  There's one caveat, though: Because we can't predict how far the field will have spread by the time we arrive, it can't be a disciplined, well-trained crew with a state-of-the-art battle cruiser.  We need misfits and screw-ups and losers with an old, busted piece of junk for a ship."
"Know anyone like that?" asked the Doctor, arching his eyebrows knowingly.
Derpy sighed, stared at the floor, and shook her head.
"If they'll forgive me I do," she said.