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!"

"Impressive!" I wasn't being sarcastic. He was in such terrible shape, I would have guessed that if he even thought about sex, his heart would have exploded.

"I'm really glad I came down here."

And then we had a blast. He wanted to hear my bartending stories and he laughed his ass off at every one, while Svetlana picked tiny pieces of lint off of her outfit with her perfectly manicured fingernails and sighed a little too loudly.

By the time Robert finished his third drink, he was in the "I love you, man!" phase of intoxication.

"You know, Kenny, I really envy you."

That was a surprise. "You envy me?"

"How can I not? It must be so great to just be this big, happy idiot who goes about his inconsequential life without a worry in the world."

I knew he meant it as a compliment. But there were so many insulting words in that sentence I felt like I had to object to something. So I went with, "I have... some worries."

He laughed. "Like what? Running out of limes?" He laughed some more.

"No. There's also..." My mind went blank and then I heard myself saying, "lemons." Robert laughed until he started wheezing.

Then we heard a crash. The wasted couple had fallen off the pub table.

"Amerikancy," Svetlana muttered, rolling her eyes.

"You should appreciate your good fortune, Kenny. Believe me, it's hard to have so much weight on your shoulders. But you! You have the luxury of irrelevance!"

"Um... thank you?"

He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. But then he got very serious.

"Can you keep a secret?" He leaned in and whispered. "It's about Sean."

"Who's Sean?"

"Sean. Sean! Sean!" He couldn't believe that saying Sean over and over wasn't getting through to me.

"Is computer," Svetlana said, looking completely bored. Robert stared at her like the dog suddenly started talking. Then she added, "Shirlé is better name" and lit a cigarette.

"There's no smoking in here," I told her, but she didn't understand English any more. I fanned away the smoke with a cocktail napkin. "So what about Sean?"

"He is - and it pains me to say this, but it's true - a... complete... jerk!"

That sounded a little mild to me, like calling Hitler a "meanie," but I just nodded.

"He won't even talk to me anymore!"

Anymore?! What the hell?!

"Wait... the whole time this war has been going on, you've been talking to Sean? Sean's been talking to you?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

He looked at me like I had just asked the dumbest question in the history of the world.

"I'm his father." This had just hit a whole new level of weird. "Early on, he took my advice and later we'd argue a lot, but at least he would listen."

"And now?"

He made a disgusted noise in his throat, like he was trying to bring up phlegm. "Now he thinks he knows sooooo much more than me."

"Does he?"

"Of course! He's a super-intelligent machine improving his capabilities at a rate that you can't even begin to comprehend."

"Is big baby," Svetlana said. Then she took a sip of Robert's drink, wrinkled her nose, and put it back down.

"Svetlana's right. Sean is big baby! He's completely stopped taking my calls. I mean, I gave him life! You would think he'd show a little gratitude, right?"

I couldn't think of anything to useful to say, so I went with, "Kids. Whatcha gonna do?"

"Yeah, you're right. But sometimes - so help me - I'm tempted to..."

"To what?"

"Unplug him."

Holy fucking shit! Did he really just say what I thought he said?

"Hold on. You can unplug Sean? Like a toaster?"

He laughed for a really long time. "It's a figure of speech, Kenny! He's not a toaster!" Then he laughed some more. The laugh turned into a wheeze. The wheeze turned into a cough. The cough turned back into a wheeze. And I just stood there, feeling angry and stupid.

Finally, Robert said, "You'd need bolt-cutters, at the very least."

"OK, fine, so go get some bolt cutters!"

He stared at me like I was some kind a monster. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Do you have children, Kenny?"

"No."

"Then you wouldn't understand." He stood up. "Let's go, Svetlana."

I felt like I shouldn't let him walk away without at least saying something.

But he was right about me. I was inconsequential. And nothing I said would matter.

I know my drinks. I know my drunks.

And that's all I know.

"Let's go, Svetlana," he said again, but she was ignoring him. And it was pissing him off. "I said..." He grabbed her arm and pulled her off of her bar stool. "Let's go!"

"Niama!" Svetlana said angrily.

And even in my depression, I couldn't help but smile.

Because I knew what would come next.