Myth-Nomers & Im-Pervections by Robert Asprin

“I don’t know,” I hesitated. “Nobody on this dimension really knows me. Do you really think a bank would be willing to trust me with a loan?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Edvick shrugged. “Tell you what . . . there’s a branch of my bank not far from here. Why don’t you pop in and talk to them. You might be surprised.”

The bank itself was not particularly imposing; a medium sized storefront with a row of teller windows and a few scattered desks. Some doors in the back wall presumably led to offices and the vault, but they were painted assorted bright colors and in themselves did not appear particularly ominous. Still, I realized I felt no small degree of nervousness as I surveyed the interior. There were small clues here and there which bespoke a seriousness which belied the studied casualness of the decor. Little things, like the machines mounted high in the corners which constantly swept the room as if monitoring the movements of both tellers and customers. The tellers themselves were secure behind high panes of innocent-looking glass, doing business through an ingenious slot and drawer arrangement at each station. An observant person such as myself, however, could not help but notice that if the degree of distortion were any indication, the glass was much thicker than it might first appear. There were also armed guards scattered around the room draped with an array of weapons which did not look at all ceremonial or decorative. There was a great deal of money here, and an equally great effort was being made to be sure no one decided to simply help themselves to the surplus.