~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Mustrum Ridcully looked up from his crossbow as the study door slid open slowly. A head peered round the small gap timidly, mouth opening to speak, just as his finger tightened on the trigger. The crossbow bolt zinged across the room like a mad hummingbird and the head jerked back abruptly with a strangled shriek and slammed the door shut moments before the bolt thunked into the target painted on the back of the door.

The Archchancellor lowered the crossbow and frowned, furry eyebrows meeting like colliding continents. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to knock, old chap?" he roared at the resentfully quivering door.

The door didn't answer for a moment, then a voice quavered faintly, "Ummm. Yes? And next week will be lovely, thank you. Jam? How nice! Oooooooh!"

The Archchancellor gave a long suffering sigh and rolled his eyes. "Needs more pills," he murmured. He crossed to the door and yanked it open, peering out into the shadowy, statue lined corridor. It appeared to be completely empty of Bursars or any type of small fat wizard. He looked round suspiciously for a moment, tapping the crossbow absently on the wall beside him, before finally spotting a face peering out from behind a statue of a former Archchancellor, about halfway down the corridor.

It tried a hopeful smile at him. "Raining fish? Gosh. What a lovely hat you have there," it said. "Wheeeeeeeeeeee! Here we go! Oranges and bats, how super!"

"Come along, Bursar," Ridcully boomed kindly. "Come into my study, there's a good chap, and then you can take a pill and tell me all about it."

The Bursar slid out from his hiding place and wandered towards the towering bulk of the Archchancellor, humming tunelessly and twitching slightly. "Ah yes. Frogs will be lovely, next week is good for me too," he remarked to the empty air beside him. He blinked. "What's that? Oh, I expect so. The custard, you know."

Ridcully sighed and ushered the nervously twitching Bursar into his study. "Take a seat, old chap," he instructed. The Bursar sank down obediently. "And where's that little pot you keep, hmm? In your pocket, is it? May I see?" The Bursar fumbled round, finally producing a small box with a lid. It had a green frog painted on it. Badly.

He blinked and handed it up to the senior wizard. "Froggy. Greeeeeeen," he commented.

"Lovely," Ridcully replied. He thumbed open the lid and shook out one of the tiny green pills that nestled in the bottom. "Now, Bursar, you take this, and then we'll be fine!"

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Agnetha sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair. She'd been waiting in the Bursar's office for what felt like hours while he went to get her uncle. He'd told her it probably wasn't a good idea for her to wander round by herself, you know how the students are, they get terribly overexcited, he'd said. Best to just wait here……….he'd shot out of the room like a – like a terribly fast thing. She'd tried humming to herself to pass the time but had become bored. She fanned a hand in front of her face; it was awfully hot in the Bursar's small office. Never mind the thick coat she was wearing…. She glanced round, tapping her foot idly. Bored, bored, bored. Maybe she should go and look for the Bursar? Perhaps he'd got lost somewhere, it wouldn't have surprised her. Poor little man…. Or maybe she should wait, as instructed. After all, this was the Unseen University and she didn't want to spend eternity lost in its labyrinth of corridors and rooms - she'd heard the stories. Those students who'd taken one wrong turn in the library, for instance, and never been seen again…..

She flowed to her feet, silk dress swishing, and glanced round the small room. Perhaps there was something of interest on the bookshelves? She crossed to them and eyed the black bound volumes. Some were chained to the shelves and quivered nervously as if they felt her gaze on their bindings…… One flapped its pages at her, the spiky black writing writhing as the pages flicked past. Agnetha shrugged and backed away, turning towards the window. She pressed her nose to the thick, cold glass and cupped her hands round her startlingly green eyes, staring down onto the campus below, where hurrying figures caught her attention. They were the students – the senior and qualified wizards sort of drifted along majestically, like barges.

You could tell who the students were, she thought. They were – well, thinner than the qualified wizards, for a start. Their hats weren't nearly so large as their seniors. Or so well decorated. Did they have hat envy, she wondered? My hat's bigger than your hat so ner? My hat has more sparkly bits than yours so ner-ner?? My hat's pointier that yours so ner-ner-ner-ner-nerrrrr?

A sudden insistent cheeping distracted her. She jumped and fumbled in the pocket of her coat, finally producing a small black box. The latest in communications, the woman in the shop had assured her when she made the purchase. Keep in touch with everyone! She'd given the number of the Cheeper Mark IV New and Improved! to the woman in the dating agency office. And Mrs Cake, who'd said she didn't trust such things – all that magic, ooh, wouldn't use that dear, might be dangerous, what do you want a horrible little imp in your pocket for? - and wouldn't use it. But you never knew – perhaps the house had burnt down. Perhaps Mrs Cake needed something. Or maybe – maybe – it was a date? Heart thumping, she pressed a catch on the lid and it sprang open, revealing a small, swearing blue imp inside. A tiny table stood next to it, bearing a tiny inkpot and quill, with a small sheaf of paper.

She looked down at it hopefully. "Hello?"

The imp glowered at her. "Bingly bingly bing bing bing CHEEEEEEP," it muttered sullenly. "You have one new, incoming message from…" it glanced down at the tiny piece of paper clutched in its clawed hand, "…The Ankh Morpork Dating Society."

Agnetha waited. The imp said nothing further, just stared. Smugly. "Can I hear it?" she ventured finally.

The imp looked at her witheringly and rolled its eyes. "Don't you people ever read the instructions?" it said rudely. "Press 109291 to hear your old messages. Press 20285910 to hear your new messages. Press 30203102812 to erase ALL messages."

"What?"

The imp sighed and repeated itself. Slowly. And loudly, just in case she didn't understand. "Press 1-0-9-2-9-1 to hear your old messages. Which you don't have," it informed her. "Press 2-0-2-8-5-9-1-0 to hear your new messages. You have 1," it continued. "And finally, press 3-0-2-0-3-1-0-2-8-1-2 to erase all messages."

"Press what? Where are the numbers?" Agnetha asked, staring helplessly at the smooth black surface of the box. She turned it round and round. There didn't appear to be any keys or numbers that she could see.

The imp shrugged. "Oi! Stop that, you're making me dizzy!" it snapped. "And, hell, I don't know. I just work here." The imp reached up and grasped a tiny handle on the inside of the Cheeper Mark IV New and Improved!'s lid. It looked at her and smirked. "Anything else?"

Agnetha shook her head in bemusement.

"Thank you for using Cheeper communications. Good day to you! BING BING BING end of session!" it said, and slammed the door firmly shut on her finger.

"Ouch!" She snatched her finger away and stared down at the lid, sucking her now bruised digit and listening to the faint giggling sound coming from the black box.