The Advanced Society by Ian Bernardin

The Advanced Society

by Ian Bernardin

The sun was just beginning to set as Ellen approached Gerald's cottage. On his front porch, the young woman hit the knocker against the wooden door and waited for a response.

      “Ellen, you're here!” Gerald exclaimed. “I'm happy to tell you that I thought of the perfect plan for getting you on that quest.”

“What is it?”

      “I'll tell you upstairs. There's a surprise waiting for you in my bedroom.”

      “Okay,” she said, following her friend cautiously up his dilapidated steps.

     “Upstairs, Ellen,” he said, “is where magic is going to happen.”

     After making their way into Gerald's bedroom, the pair stopped in front of an enormous closet.

     “Now,” he said, “I'm going to need you to take off your clothes.”

     “Gerald, I know you love me, but I don't think it's a good idea for us to do it so soon...”

     “By Quillpith's name, I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding!” he said with a laugh. “That's not what I have in store for you at all! Here, we're going to start by fixing up your hair. I'll find something for you in the closet.”

     “Alright,” she said with a smile of uncertainty, putting her hair up into a bun. 

     “Here it is,” said Gerald, grabbing a wig of manly blonde hair. “Why don't you try it on?”    After placing it over her head, Ellen observed herself in Gerald's closet-door mirror. “Wow,” she said, “I look so...different.”      

     “That's the point,” said Gerald. “Now I have to find you the rest of your costume.”     “Before that,” said Ellen, “when you just asked me to take off my clothes...”

     “You can change in my closet,” he said, “and I'll wait out here for you.”

     “That's a relief,” she said, as Gerald plunged once more into his commodious storage area of props and costumes.

     “Here it is!” he cried out, grunting as he dragged a suit of armor from his closet.

     “Uh, Gerald, don't you think that's a little extreme? Are you sure I could even walk in that?”

     “Ellen, this is the only way I can cover up your body so that your gender is unrecognizable. Please trust me here.”

            “Oh, I think I see what you're trying to do,” Ellen said with a snap of her fingers. “You're going to make me look like a...”

      “That's right,” he said, “but first, you have to make sure that the armor fits you properly.” Gerald stood outside his closet and listened to the clatter as Ellen struggled with the attire.

      “Are you all set?” he said. “It sounds like you're going to war against France in there!”

      “I'm fine,” she insisted, but seconds later, she tripped over the pointy shoes of her costume. Thankfully, Gerald caught her in his arms as she tumbled forward.

      “Careful!” he said. “Now you know why I'm always doing face plants on stage.”

      Both laughed, knowing this comment could not have been closer to the truth.

      “I'm sure the armor would have kept me safe if I had fallen, anyway,” Ellen pointed out. “I just would have had trouble righting myself. Anyway, thanks for catching me!”

     “No problem,” he said. “I'm sure that you'll catch onto walking in it if you practice enough.”

      “I hope so. Oh, and by the way, does the armor come with a face?”

      “Of course! Let's see if I can find that.”

      Ellen leaned against a wall with one of her mail-covered arms as Gerald fished through his closet.

      “Wait! I see it!” he cried, “but I don't know if I can reach it.” The room shook as Ellen's friend hopped up to grab the head piece. This was followed by a bong and an “ouch!”

      “That was a struggle,” said Gerald, clutching the item and rubbing a bruise on his forehead. “Unfortunately, I can't find the top part with the red horse-hair on it, but I don't think that's a problem.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Well, if your blonde wig is showing, then it might lower suspicion that you're potentially a female.”

      “Good point,” said Ellen, “but now that I'm disguised, what should I pack for the journey?”

      I'm thinking that you should have...first of all, you need another pair of shoes. I made them myself. The trails you're walking will be muddy, but these things should be able to stop people in the tribe from tracking your footprints and apprehending you.” Gerald dug around in his closet once more and quickly removed a queer-looking pair of scrap-metal blobs covered in protruding, tangled wires.

      “The footprints these leave closely resemble rabbit tracks,” he said. “Just be sure that you hop like a bunny while you're wearing them. Otherwise, you might not fool pursuers.”

      “Should I put them on now?”

      “Yeah. While you're doing that, I'm going to collect some supplies that I think you'll find useful.”

      As Gerald searched his house for the scattered items, Ellen put on her rabbit shoes and stared out the window, getting lost in her thoughts as she admired the stars. Never before had she felt such a touching sense of calmness.

      “I think this will be enough,” he said breathlessly: “a blanket, a small bag of nuts, spare contact lenses, some glue.”

      “Why glue, Gerald?”

      “Just in case your life begins to fall apart, you'll be able to glue it back together.”

      “And where am I going to store all of this stuff?”

      “There are pockets inside your armor.”

      “Thanks for helping me pack,” said Ellen. “Now, what am I doing once I leave your porch?”

      “This is the plan,” he said. “With your true identity hidden, you must hurry through the town square and down the path marked with bright green flags. That trail leads to a guard post on the perimeter of the tribe. Since the watchmen are generally more concerned about who's coming in than who's escaping, you should be able to find a way past them. From there, set up camp a little after you reach the outskirts of the tribe and wait until the quest party passes by to team up with them. You'll have to pretend that you're a rogue who was thrown into the woods for some crime against the Advanced Society. Just be careful; you want to be friendly with our tribe members, so that they won't attack you. Does all of this make sense?”

      “Yeah,” Ellen answered, still observing the night sky. “I'm just trying to visualize all of it. I hope nobody outside the Wooded Prison will attack me.”

      “Oh, I have one last thing to give you before you leave,” said Gerald, putting an arm around her. Locking Ellen in a bear hug, he planted a kiss on her cheek.

      “That was pitiful,” she said. “You might want to try that later, when I'm not wearing armor.”

      “I hope you make it back,” he said, blowing a final kiss to his crush as she left his bedroom.

A few seconds later, as Gerald was about to host a pity party, he stopped short as a terrible crash shook his cottage.

      “I'm okay,” came the voice of his true love. “I'm not used to hopping down stairs.”

      Before he could reply, Gerald heard his front door creak shut.