This is not Idaia's closet.
It's something weird.
That could be either a really good thing or a really bad thing.
She probably wasn't going to succeed at what she needed to succeed at anyway; worth the gamble.
She steps inside.
"Well, the second one is technically my name, but I'll just use the bird. Where should I be from?"
"Probably somewhere in the south of the country, if we're saying your parents were crazy religious conservatives and that's why you don't have any other documentation or vaccines or anything."
"The most stereotypical places off the top of my head are Alabama or Texas, but we'd have to pick a town--oh, and I should teach you the basics of the religion, at least, for your cover story."
"Ah. Yeah, the places I was talking about are stereotypical for having crazy conservatives from one religion specifically, but pretending your parents were from some kind of obscure cult no one's heard of would also work. Makes geography less relevant, though."
"Okay. Bar, can you pick me a place in Kansas?"
Bar picks her a place in Kansas. Now Bella has a prettily embossed certificate and a beat-up old passport with a picture of her at age nine cribbed from the local newspaper of her hometown, just recently expired.
"I've got a little left over. If vaccines are real I'm tempted to name absurd science fantasy stuff but Bar cannot sell anything as big as a spaceship..."
"Yeah, I don't have that much money on me. What else is hard to get and useful in your world?"
"Hmm...nothing's coming immediately to mind, but that doesn't mean much. Bar? Any recommendations?"