Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. Please don't sue me or steal my story.

NOTE: This story was inspired by the hilarious radio show Whatever Happened to Susan Foreman? which is included on the Special Features disk of The Dalek Invasion of Earth DVD. Conducted as a mock interview, the show speculates about Susan's experiences before and after the Doctor left her on Earth. She claimed her parents sold concepts, ideas, and T-shirts and that her grandfather, the Doctor, had been a commercial time traveler before his retirement.

I've always kinda wanted to write a Pi Day story, but I could never seem to find a good enough excuse. When I heard that bit about the T-shirts, though, it just suddenly clicked! I actually wrote this story last year but, because I'm a nut and because I'm awake anyway working on my Nowhere Men story update, I'm posting this at 1:59 a.m. today, which makes it 3.14159! LOL! As for the next chapter of Nowhere Men, I hope to have it ready by the end of the day. Happy Pi Day, everyone!

3.14159
By Rowena Zahnrei

"Grandfather! Grandfather, there's an incoming message!"

The Doctor glanced up from his tinkering, his expression distracted. "Hm? What was that, Susan? A message?"

The teenager sighed. "Grandfather, will you please stop playing with that thing and come over here? This might be important!"

"Thing?" The Doctor looked affronted. "Thing, my dear? I'll have you know, this thing is what allows us to navigate so precisely through the Space-Time Vortex. When it's working properly, it can accurately calculate our arrival coordinates down to about three meters (1)." He sniffed, carefully setting the intricate piece of machinery back in its place. "Besides," he huffed, "I wasn't playing. I was making vital repairs."

Susan winced. "Oh, Grandfather, don't tell me the directional unit is faulty again! No wonder we're always getting lost. This TARDIS of yours is a rundown antique! Nothing ever seems to work as it should."

"Nonsense!" the Doctor exclaimed, giving the timeship's main console a tender pat. "Pay her no mind, my dear. Susan's just bitter because we didn't stop in Paris last week like she wanted."

"You're going to have to take me to Earth one of these days, you know," the teenager retorted. "My parents only let me come on this trip because you promised to enroll me in French class, and so far—"

"Oh, enough complaining, please," the Doctor frowned. "That shrill tone goes right through my head. You should count yourself lucky, my girl, having the opportunity to travel at your age. There'll be plenty of time for you to learn French, hm? Yes, yes indeed. Now," he said, firmly ignoring her attempts at further protest. "What was that you were saying about a message?"

"The indicator is still flashing," she pointed to the console. "Looks like it's coming from planet Archimedes Minor."

"Archimedes Minor," the Doctor mused, surprised. "Now, who do we know on Archimedes Minor? Or, and perhaps more to the point, who on Archimedes Minor would know to contact us here, hm? We only left Gallifrey a month or so ago in Real Time, and like I always say, if the Time Lords don't chase you after a month—"

"Grandfather, please," Susan snapped, exasperated. "Honestly, I sometimes think you could talk the ear off an elephant. Do you want me to accept the call or not?"

"Hm? Oh yes, accept the message, by all means, accept," the Doctor nodded, scooting around the console to stand beside her. "I'm quite curious to see who it could be."

Susan flicked the appropriate switches, then stood back. The pair of them watched as the caller's features slowly come into focus on the viewer.

"At last!" The man on the screen looked rather peeved. "We've been signaling that rusty old TARDIS of yours for nearly ten minutes! Oh, hello Susan. Having a good time, are you?"

Susan slid her grandfather a look. "I haven't decided yet," she said. But the Doctor wasn't listening.

"Rusty old—!" he exclaimed. "Is that any way to greet your father then, hm? What are you doing on Archimedes Minor? I thought you and your wife were off selling concepts on Montepp VI!"

"Well we were," the man said. "But we thought we'd come down to Archimedes Minor for Pi Day. Did you know the humans there have traced pi back to Ancient Greece? Archimedes' Constant, they call it." He snorted. "Such arrogant creatures, humans, always trying to trace civilization's greatest discoveries back to Earth. Every Time Tot knows, pi was first realized on Gallifrey in—"

"Enough, enough, enough!" the Doctor cut him off. "We Gallifreyans may hold a deeper understanding of pi, my boy, but the humans show it far greater appreciation. Do you see the Time Lords holding Pi Day celebrations on Gallifrey? Hm? Do you?"

"No, Father," the man acknowledged. "But that's just the thing. The humans on Archimedes Minor seem to have caught the bug. We came down with our T-shirts and our concepts and our pi-plates all set for a sell-out—"

"And let me guess. No one's been buying, hm?"

"Why…yes. How did you know?"

"Don't look so shocked, my young fellow," the Doctor said. "Contrary to popular opinion, your old father hasn't lost it yet. It's that new regime the Archimedians have set up. They want to treat pi with more respect, make it a thing of awe to build up their reputation as academics or some such twaddle. Just because the infernal number seems to have no end or pattern or—"

"Right," Susan's father interrupted. "So here we are, stuck with boxes and crates of shirts and concepts, and no viable market for our wares."

"So?" the Doctor huffed. "What do you want me to do about it, hm? I'm a scientist, not a salesman! And, I'm retired to boot."

"Exactly," the man grinned. "You've got scads of free time on your hands. And, we figured, since you're taking Susan to Twentieth Century Earth anyway…"

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh no," he shook his head. "Oh no, no, no. Don't think you can unload those tacky T-shirts on me, young man! The concepts you have in stock would blow those earthmen's minds!"

"Oh, come on, Grandfather," Susan spoke up. "It might be fun! Didn't you tell me once about those parties they used to have on old Earth? The ones where people would memorize pi up to 100,000 decimal places and take all day to recite it? And then there's the pi poetry, and the pi-themed foods and—oh, Grandfather, can we go? Please?"

The Doctor hesitated, but Susan could tell it was just for show. That familiar gleam had started in his sharp, blue eyes—the manic twinkle that spoke of adventure and mischief in the making. It therefore came as no surprise when he finally sighed and said:

"Oh, very well. I'll take your T-shirts. But don't expect me to bail you out like this every time you come up against a difficult market. I'm retired, don't forget!"

"I'll send the merchandise over momentarily," the man smiled. "Knew you'd come through in the end. Have a good time, you two!"

The Doctor just scowled.

"Hooray!" Susan cheered as the transmission ended, enfolding the tetchy old Time Lord in a quick hug, then bounding across the room to inspect the towering pile of boxes that had just materialized in the corner. "Earth at last! Look out France, here I come!"

"Hm, what's that?" the Doctor frowned. "France? Oh, we're not going to France, my child. If you want to experience a real Pi Day celebration, the only place to be is MIT." He chuckled to himself as he hopped around the TARDIS console setting coordinates, starting the time rotor humming. "Be…MIT. Who's a poet and didn't know it, hm? Hm?"

Susan was not amused. "MIT? The Massachusetts Institute of Technology? But Grandfather, that's in Boston—in the United States!"

"Well spotted."

"You're never going to take me to France, are you?"

The Doctor sighed. "My dear child, did you learn nothing growing up in your parents' notions shop? It's no good tying yourself down to one static idea. While you're here with me, you can explore the impossible! Investigate strange and wonderful places and cultures and concepts!"

"Like pi?" Susan smirked.

"You'd be surprised, my girl," he smiled back. "For many of the people we're about to meet, pi holds a story of impossible complexity and remarkable simplicity; it's a beautiful example of irrational rationality. For them, pi's very inscrutability holds the promise of forever. Quite a romantic way to view a number, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, but—"

"Don't worry, my dear Susan," the Doctor said kindly. "I'll get you enrolled in a proper school soon enough."

"Where I can learn French," she said with a firm look.

"Yes, yes, where you can learn French. But for now—"

The time rotor wheezed to a stop with a jarring thud and the Doctor pulled a lever, opening the TARDIS doors to reveal a busy university street. Young people were clustered around bright pi-themed booths and waving to each other, shouting "Happy Pi Day" to the passers by.

"—we have some T-shirts to sell, hm?" The old man grinned and took his granddaughter by the hand. "Come on, let's have some fun!"

The End

Reference:

(1) Description of the directional unit's function paraphrased from The Tardis Technical Index.

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