Inventing Wonders

Chapter 2: No Yellow Ticket

Deciding what to do next had to be quick and, more importantly, correct. Lara knew for certain that her appearance could cause trouble at every turn. This wasn't even the beginning of the 20th century; this was a damn pre-flood or post-flood empire. Lara wasn't well-versed in costume history, but she guessed she was somewhere between Napoleon and the Victorian era. Why did she know so little about her own country's history? The girl sighed heavily and looked around for a timely solution, but none came.

"What should I do?" she pondered.

Lara was flexible and pragmatic enough to skip the hysteria about time travel; after all, maybe things weren't that bad and she had just gone mad? In any case, what was the point of crying in the middle of the street? Of course, her friend held a different position, believing that tears could actually help: start crying, and someone might save you. Lara didn't possess the technique of crying for salvation, so she usually stood up silently and moved forward.

"What do I have?" she continued to muse. "Nothing at all!"

This was an unfair statement because in her bag she had an iPhone, notebooks with unfinished literature and French notes, a new VS spray with glitter, her driver's license, car keys, several pens, a marker, a makeup bag, Theraflu, and various other small items. For the 19th century, she had nothing.

"Hey, you vagabond!" someone called out to her. "Get out of here. It's a disgrace! A woman in trousers!"

"I'm not homeless!" Lara snapped back, wanting to do something else, but then it hit her: "Although... Thank you!"

She jumped to her feet and again wanted to flee from the frightening reality. Lara's appearance stopped her.

"I need a skirt," she reasoned, "and I should put my hair up."

Yes, in this Lara was right: the path ahead was long and thorny, even through Nevsky Prospect. She felt like a stray cat that anyone could shoo away, so she had to cling to the ground and hide behind cars.

Lara mapped out her path through the narrowest, quietest streets until she noticed some laundry drying in a courtyard. Sometimes Lara was prone to spontaneous decisions. One of these was invading someone else's yard.

The gates, by chance, were closed, of course. They even sported a lock, but Lara wasn't the kind of law-abiding citizen who could be stopped by a "Do not enter" sign. She approached the lock and, to her pleasure, discovered it was only made to look locked. A quick movement of her hand, and she was in. Lara glanced around furtively, knowing she was about to steal, and, seeing no danger, began examining the hanging wardrobe.

The clothes were mediocre, but Lara's eyes settled on a thin light dress in which she would undoubtedly freeze, but she could fit into it on her own. The choice was made. Lara was already convinced of her luck and impunity when someone suddenly yelled:

"What are you doing here?!"

Lara yelped and decided not to wait for a personal meeting with the owner of the voice. Clutching her dishonestly acquired trophy to her chest, she ran again. The slow victim yelled something after her, but Russia's greatest advantage had always been stability, so the police reacted equally promptly in all times. Either way, Lara managed to evade justice this time. Of course, in retrospect or looking forward, depending on how you see it, Lara would regret not being caught with this dress and being allowed to go so far.

Finding a quiet and deserted place in the city center during the working day is not easy. If Lara had bothered to check the time, she would have been horrified to see that the clock hands were moving inexorably towards six. Even at this hour, finding a secluded spot would have been difficult. However, she ducked into yet another gateway and, hoping that providence would again be kind to her, hastily began pulling off her sweater. She didn't dare to undress completely, so she awkwardly began making her way into the skirt.