MONEY IN THE VAULT
A MILLION LIGHTS IN THE SKY
by Nexosaur
My life up until that point had been a struggle to get through. My mother was terminally ill, my father had lost his job and was working a dead-end, and we barely had enough to eat. We moved to Canterlot to get treatment for my mother, but since Dad lost his job, we ended up getting here and unable to afford it.
All I could do was watch as my home life deteriorated, slowly becoming a mess of everything I once loved. I missed the noise our home used to have, but now it was silent, interspersed with bouts of coughing. Dad never came home until late in the night, and left in the early morning, and I did not go to school. From when I woke up to when I went to bed, the house was quiet and dull, and I could only wait for Mom’s inevitable death to arrive.
Every once in a while I went out–only when Mom was deep asleep or when she hadn’t coughed in a while–and looked at the stuff around town. I never went inside the stores; I merely gazed inside wistfully, knowing that for now the things inside were out of my grasp. I knew my prospects were bleak–being an uneducated ten year-old without the money to attend a college and sick parent to keep me out of school now–but I wanted to get somewhere in life. I wanted to get out of my rut and carve my own path. I didn’t get the choice until I was eleven, looking into the clothes shop on East Street.
I was a blank flank, staring at the clothes in the window, wondering what I would look like in the beautiful dresses and the pretty hats. It never bothered me to be a blank flank, as I had never been told about the importance of my cutie mark, and had never been anywhere with fillies my age. I didn’t think about what I wanted to be, I just wanted to get out of where I was now. It was a lack of direction on my future, but it never occurred to me that I should find out what I’m good at to help myself and my family.
As I mind-shopped, I heard a loud clang from behind me. I turned to see an angry stallion clomping down the road, straight from a place I had never paid attention to. I saw the tall brick structure, gargoyles looming on the stair walls, glaring menacingly down on the ponies below them, and had a spark of love.
I was drawn to the structure, and I left my place at the store to walk up to it. I walked under the eyes of the beast and stared straight into it, straight into the stony soul inside. I touched a hoof against the rock and a chill ran down my spine from its chill.
I let my eyes wander across the shape, taking in all the details. The black marble was full of chips and scuffs, showing off its decades of wear like battle scars. Tiny white specks in the stone glittered like stars in the sunlight, and I started to smile.
Once I had gotten a good look at the gargoyle, I took a step to the side and examined the door. I did not know what business was behind the door, but whatever it was, I could hear it calling me from within.
To this day I still regret taking the stairs to the door and opening it. Everything would have been so much easier if I hadn’t.
I walked inside and was greeted by the smell of fancy. That was all I could think as I sniffed the air and saw the pristine white tiles stretching on to a dark wooden counter with a white top. The ponies behind the counter were giving money to ponies who were in front of them, dressed in nice suits and dresses, as well as hats and canes.
I marveled at the sophistication of the room and took slow steps to the counter. I eventually got up to an empty space and found myself facing a well-dressed mare who looked down at me with a quizzical look.
“What is this place?” I asked in awe, smiling as I took in all the details. “It’s so fancy!”
The mare sighed and forced a smile onto her face, “It’s a bank. Are you lost? Do you need to find your parents?”
“Nope,” I replied, giggling a little. “I know where I am.” I looked around some more, this time taking a look at the tall windows that let in long rays of sunlight. “What does a bank do? What is a bank?”
“A bank is a place where ponies come to store money or withdraw it,” the mare said, simplifying the process.
“Is that it?” I asked, putting my front hooves up onto the counter and looking into the mare’s face. “A fancy place like this only does two things?”
“Well, no, but I just didn’t want to get too complicated about it,” the mare replied, lightly trying to pushing my dirty hooves down. “You can do a lot of things at a bank.”
“Like what?” I asked, ignoring her physical protests.
“Do you really have to know right now?” she asked, her voice developing a bit of panic.
“Not really,” I said, hopping from the counter. “If you don’t want to I don’t have to know.” As I hopped down I saw a large metal door through glass, covered in wheels and large bolts. “What’s that big door back there?”
“It’s the safe, dear,” the mare said, ushering at me to move as other customers gathered behind me. “It’s where we keep the money. Can you leave? I’ve got to get to the actual customers.”
I nodded and turned around. Walking past the line, I saw a few angry faces and heard a few mean comments. One stood out in particular.
“Isn’t her father the one that works all day at the castle as a janitor? I heard it’s because his family has no money.”
I spun around and ran back up the mare at the front, who took a stabilising breath before speaking.
“Yes?” she said, barely keeping her frustration repressed.
“Can I get some money?” I asked.
“You can’t just get money,” the mare replied. “You have to open an account with us and do a lot of things you’re not legally allowed to do. We can only give you money if you do that, have money to withdraw, or are in a financial position where we can give you a loan.”
“But my family needs it!” I said, not wanting to leave empty-hooved.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t have an account with us or any money to withdraw!” the mare let out a frustrated growl. “Kid, just go somewhere else so I can do my job with ponies who are actually here for something!”
I huffed and stomped away, my eyes beginning to water. When I got outside, I ran home, thinking about the vault in the back of the bank, full of money that my family could use.
I got home and heard coughing from Mom’s room. Stepping silently inside, I went up to her side and grabbed her hoof. She turned to look at me, “Where have you been? I called for you...”
I nodded and gave a little smile, “Sorry, I was a little busy.”
“Busy where?” she said. “It’s not like there’s much to do in the house.”
“Oh, just stuff,” I replied, trying my best to sound convincing. “I walked around outside the house for a few minutes, and I guess you called when I was out there.”
She smiled and I found it hard to look at. I didn’t know how I really felt about my family. I could say that I wanted the money to help my family, but I didn’t know if it was for them or for me.
“How would you feel if we finally got money?” I asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
“I’d be glad for the rest of us,” Mom said, her eyes growing a bit of life at the thought. “You could get to school, your dad wouldn’t have to work so hard. We’d finally have our family back in one piece. Getting healed is only a miracle at this point, so you and Dad are the most important ponies in the house.”
I was a bit shocked by the answer; I had expected her to actually care about her life. “Why would you not care about staying alive?” I asked.
“Honey, I think I’m nearly dead at this point,” she replied, frowning. “It’s a horrible thought, but it’s the truth. I don’t think any hospital can help me now, no matter how good.”
“I hope we get some money,” I said. I thought about how I could finally go to school if I got the money from the bank. There had to be some way to get it. I was willing to do anything to finally get out of the hell I was in and lead a normal life.
That night, I stayed up, thinking hard until I begrudgingly succumbed to the only idea in my head that had any plausibility: robbing the bank. It was the only way I had any chance of getting the money unless I stole it from somepony, and I didn’t want to deal with anypony because of my size.
“How would I pick the lock?” I wondered aloud. I had no experience lockpicking, and no way of getting a lockpick on my own. I could make my own, but I had no idea what I would need. “I guess I’ll have to learn some things.”
And so I did. I went to the bookstore and walked around, and eventually found a section with books. I took a quick look at them and slowly began to read further in, learning all the tools I needed and how to use them. It took me days to get all the way through and sufficiently prepared to make my own tools and use them.
A few nights later I made the tools. We had a hammer and a small piece of sheet metal outside, so I broke a piece off and managed to get it into a somewhat pick-like shape. I molded a couple different tools and soon had enough “good” tools to consider my idea.
Once I finished, I ran from the house into town. The streets were dark and empty; the streetlights provided the only light. The night’s chill had already set in, and I shivered under the minimal protection I had: a small coat my dad wore when he was a child.
The bank’s gargoyles were imposing silhouettes, and if I didn’t know what they were beforehand, I could’ve mistaken them for any kind of giant beast. I got up to the door and looked at the lock, which sat a bit above my head.
I lifted up with my tools and started working. I messed around with the pick, pressing in and hearing the pins click and bounce. I got a couple set and saw a light in the corner of my eye. I jumped down, removing my pick from the keyway. I laid behind the stair and prayed that whoever it was wouldn’t find me.
The light drew closer, and the guard directed the light straight up the stairs onto the door. He aimed the light beam slightly high, so I was still in the shadows. As he left, I let out a small sigh of relief. I went back to the door and continued working.
Soon, I had the door open. Sweat was dripping from my mane, brought about by fear. I was scared now as I stepped inside. The room was dark, and since there were no lights I lit a match and spread it onto a stick. It made a torch that lit the place well enough for me to make my way around.
I walked behind the counter and found a small door that led back to the safe. Strangely, it was unlocked, so I went back and went up to the large door. I looked at the large steel surface, reflecting my torch light straight back at me from its polished surface. It took me a moment to see the problem.
“There’s no keyhole,” I said in disbelief. I had prepared all this with the presumption that I could pick the safe lock. “Damn it. Why?”
The lock was most likely magic-operated, since the books I had read told me that those are the safest kinds, since only a few unicorns would know the actual spell to get in. However, it did say there was a way to bypass the lock by using “fake magic.”
It said that all lock magic was a layer of barriers, and that each one had a hole that dispelled it. The unicorn’s spell would pass through all these holes and break all the barriers, opening the lock. The only way to bypass the barriers is if pony could get a pick through all the barriers in quick succession, fast enough to mimic a spell. There was a tiny time window where the picker could slow down for a moment, but aside from that it was a difficult process.
I knew that it was my chance to help myself and my family, and I had to take it. I grabbed my pick and moved it around in the small opening between the door and the frame until I felt it hit a hard barrier that sent a small shock up my foreleg. I pulled out the pick and pushed it back in, this time on top of the barrier, fighting against the numbing shock.
I moved it around on the wall, pressing until it managed to fall into one of the holes. My hoof shot forward a half-inch and was stopped as the pick slammed into the next barrier. I heard a small crack, and knew that my pick was weakening.
I moved the pick around again, but within two seconds the first barrier reformed, and it forced my pick out. I had to move fast once I got in. The good was that I could mark and remember where the holes were and eventually get them all.
An hour or so later, I found myself breaking into the final barrier. My foreleg was a mess of numbness, and as I tried to stand on it, I nearly collapsed. I stomped it hard against the ground and felt nothing.
The safe door clicked and began to slide open. Light began to pour into the room, and I slipped inside once the opening was wide enough. I looked around at the container and saw millions of bits piled up inside, a scene that nearly made me faint.
I pulled out the bag I brought and began to throw them in. The clinking gave me some happiness, but it also gave a deep, dark regret. I knew what I was doing was illegal and I knew that if they found out who did it they’d arrest me.
I pushed those thoughts to the side. I didn’t have the time to worry about morals or ethics or anything. I had to get the money and get out.
The bag began to split as I pushed in the last few bits. I took a long pause and steadied myself. I ran from the safe, making sure to close it behind me. There was a single huff of escaping air as it was sealed off and the barriers were closed. I darted out of the door, closing it behind me and hitting the street at a breakneck pace, trying to get home before anypony saw me.
I got home and stopped outside, panting heavily. I had to be quiet getting back in. I slowly opened the door and winced whenever a creak came from it. I closed it as silently as possible as I stepped in. The bag of coins chinked together lightly in the night, and I pulled them to the main room.
As I dropped it, a candle was lit and I saw my father, standing in the doorway to his room and looking at me in confusion.
“What?” he said, unable to process.
“D-dad!” I stammered, racking my brain for an excuse. “W-well, I heard something while I was s-sleeping, s-so I came out and there was a big bag full of bits! Somepony gave us a g-good gift to h-help us!”
He let out a gasp as he looked at me, “Your cutie mark.”
My eyes widened and I looked at my flank. There it was, clear as day. A lockpick and a lock, sitting across my rump.
“What?” I said in muted astonishment. I had managed to get a cutie mark without trying, and without any drive to earn one.
“Where did you get that money?” Dad asked, coming up to me and looking me dead in the eyes. There was pain behind his gaze, hurt that his daughter had gotten a cutie mark in something like lockpicking, hurt that he discovered it in the middle of the night after I had done a terrible deed. “You’re dirty and sweaty, and your cutie mark.”
I had to tell him. There was no other way. I gulped and began to speak, fearing what would become of me because of my actions. I had messed up bad, and it would haunt me forever.