Everyone Died+My iPhone Stopped Working: An Oral History of The Robot Apocalypse

Know Your Drunks (Part 2)

Kenny Lee, Bartender

I couldn't tell you what time it was. Late at night? Early morning? Middle of the day?

And which day? I couldn't tell you that, either. Tuesday? Friday? Greek Orthodox Easter? El Día Del Muertos? I had no clue.

Since we were underground we only had artificial light. That really messes with your perception of time. When people asked me what time it was, I'd say, "Time for another drink!" or "Drunk o'clock!" or "A quarter past who-gives-a-fuck?"

Anyway, the bar was pretty much empty when Robert showed up. Just a few people who were passed out and some totally wasted couple who was trying to do it standing up against a wall, but couldn't work out the mechanics.

Nobody even noticed Robert, which was just as well because he looked awful. Like the Marines had just pulled him out of his spider hole and dragged him face first across a shit-covered field.

On the other hand, he was with an absolutely stunning Belarusian. I thought I had met them all, but this one I had never seen before. She was probably six inches taller than him in bare feet, and she was wearing huge spiked heels. She was completely put-together: hair, make-up, clothing all perfect.

I have never seen a more mismatched pair in my life. It was like she was Scarlett Johansson and he had just been run over by a truck.

As they walked up to me, I could not help but wonder what a tech genius who accidentally destroys the world chooses to drink.

The answer: Amaretto Sour. I did not see that coming.

"Something for you, Svetlana?" he asked, but she just looked at him blankly. "Drink?" he said too loud - the way people do when dealing with someone who doesn't speak the language - and did the universal signal for drinking, bringing an invisible glass to his lips.

She waved him away, uninterested.

"Niama."

That's Belarusian for "no." I know that because it was the word they always yelled when a guy was getting too grabby and was about to get kicked in the nut-sack.

I'll say this: you learn foreign words very fast when nut-sack-kicking is involved. Which probably would have been useful information for the Rosetta Stone people.

Oh, well. Too late now.

Robert downed his Amaretto Sour in one long swallow, then made a face and shuddered. Clearly, a novice drinker. Svetlana looked around the room to see if there was anything more interesting going on. The wasted couple had given up on the wall and were now trying to do it on a small, round pub table. An accident waiting to happen, if ever there was one.

"Tough day at the office?" I asked Robert as I handed him another drink.

"I don't want to talk about it."

So I changed the subject. "Hey... Svetlana seems nice." At hearing her name, she looked at me, then through me, then turned away again.

Robert snorted. "I'm not stupid. I know full well she'd never give me a second look if I wasn't a billionaire."

"Come on, dude. Be honest. Isn't that why you wanted to be a billionaire in the first place?"

I said that as he was in mid-sip and he spit out his drink, laughing.

"Oh, my God, Kenny! You are absolutely right!" Suddenly, we were pals. What can I say? I have a gift.

"I'll let you in on a little secret." He was whispering now. "Svetlana and I have been doing it. I'm talking once a day!"