Chapter 4

The Lecturer in Modern Antiquities, the Right and Honourable Professor Tuenge Untermeyer T.V.C.O.S. (The Venerable Council of Seers) started his class by clearing his throat for a full two minutes then in his nasal voice he said, “It appears that we have a new student among us, Façade Incognito, would you please rise and tell us a little bit about yourself Mister Incognito?”

Without standing Octavia rose and along with her stool she also levitated her desk so she could study her notes as she spoke. In a made-up stilted voice she said, “I am Façade Incognito, a student of wizardry, I hope to become a wizard and follow in the footsteps of my idol Cringe Volcaic in the study of advanced magic germination in post-apocalyptic fungal spores.” She spoke in such a slow, whining monotone that she hoped it would ensure that no one would speak to her or call on her in class for fear of hearing that voice again.

But for some reason, Professor Untermeyer found himself interested in a way that he hadn’t felt in decades. “Mister Incognito, could you explain why you chose to levitate rather than simply stand?”

If he only knew where her pseudonym came from! Octavia got it from her favorite book she read as a child. The author dedicated the book to the love of his life, Façade Incognito. Again, came the whiny voice designed to cause cringe in this and adjoining classrooms. “You said rise sir, not stand. I was simply following directions.” The way she drew out the words “rise” and “stand” insured that several of her classmates removed those words from their vocabularies permanently.

“Yes ... uhhh ... thank you Mister Incognito.” For some reason, Professor Untermeyer was reminded of warm summer evenings in his youth, evenings spent by the river and a certain farm girl named Lousie... “If you will excuse me, I will be right back...”

This became a pattern in all of her classes. No matter how annoying she tried to present herself, the professors would become misty and end class early. Also oddly enough, no one bothered Octavia about her lack of beard. If asked, she had a cover story devised, but no one asked. In fact, they wanted to sit closer to her.

The only person who seemed to be immune from Octavia was Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully, who was usually too busy tinkering with a new high-powered assault crossbow or fly rod (The high-powered assault fly rod was actually invented by Archchancellor Ridcully.) Finally, the Lecturer in Creative Uncertainty came to the Archchancellor and demanded that he do something about the new student.

“What has he done man?” demanded the Archchancellor.

“It’s what he’s not doing!” shrieked the desperate lecturer.

“Well, I can’t tell the lad to stop doing whatever it is that he’s not doing. Make sense man!” He gave the Lecturer in Creative Uncertainty a jolly good slap on the back which nearly set the rotund little man reeling (or possibly rolling).