Night was falling and it was still pissing rain. Julian slogged through muddy fields, shivering in his thin windbreaker. He should be nearing the the outskirts of Bratislava, according to the headset.

He stopped and cracked open a can of 'chicken', slurping the juice from the container before digging in with his hands. Any qualms about vegetarianism had vanished against the reality of being cold, tired, and hungry.

He polished off the container and continued on. He wouldn't be able to avoid roads much longer, this close to the city they spidered across the country-side. But he could be quick, and avoid crossing them where possible.

Leaving a field he dropped down into a ravine to keep a low profile against the darkening sky. Thankfully there was only a trickle of water flowing down it from the rain. Not that it mattered much, his sneakers had soaked through hours ago.

The map showed a road to cross around the next bend. The ravine was big enough that there ought to be a bridge to span it. With luck he could cross without risk of exposure.

He rounded a corner and saw a flickering light in the middle distance. Fire. The thought of its warmth made him shiver even harder. Who'd have a fire tonight, and in this rain? Probably not Blackmountain, seemed a little low-tech for their methods.

Julian considered his options. They were all terrible. His body was exhausted from the exertions of the last few days; he would need to sleep soon. He could lie down in this ditch and possibly die of hypothermia. He could keep marching in the dark and probably break a leg, then die of hypothermia. Or he could see what the fire was about. He stowed his headset back in the duffel.

As he approached he made out more detail. Three people were gathered around a flaming barrel under a low bridge. Their voices were indistinct, but they were definitely drunk; conversation was loud and punctuated with bouts of raucous laughter.

Drinking by a fire sure beats freezing to death in a field. Julian walked over to the group and stopped ten feet away. As soon as he quit moving his teeth started chattering. The others were so focused on the fire they still hadn't noticed him.

This close he could make out faces and bodies. Two women and a man were seated around the fire. They looked about his age, but had clearly been sleeping rough for a while: stubble and tangled hair, clothes stained brown by permanent grime.

He waited for a lull in the conversation, then raised his voice to be heard over the rain. "Hello there!"

The man looked up, then called out in a rough baritone: "Hello yourself! You bring me that beer I asked for?"

Julian struggled for words. Apparently his tongue had frozen as much as the rest of him.

"I'm just pulling your leg. Get out from the rain ya git, you'll freeze to death out there."

Julian needed no further invitation. He stumbled over to the fire and its glorious radiant heat and stood next to the man who had called him. Julian stripped off his soaking windbreaker to let in more of the fire's warmth.

The two woman stayed on the other side of the fire, whispering to themselves and periodically darting glances in his direction.

"Th-thank you," he chattered out.

"Annabel, get this man a drink would ya? Look how he suffers."

The nearest woman turned her head slowly his way. "Do it yerself Gordon. I'm busy just now."

As far as Julian could see the only thing she was busy doing was gossiping about him.

"Ingrate," Gordon murmured. He stood from his stool and went around to a cooler on the other side, returning with two tall boys of malt liquor. Julian accepted his with a nod and a smile. The man winked and downed a good third of his can.

The cheap rotgut was a far cry from Julian's preferred pint. Still, it was alcohol; any port in a storm. Steam rose from his wet clothes.

"I'm Gordon," the man offered, "and this is my humble chateau." Annabel rolled her eyes in an exaggerated gesture.

"Nice to meet you Gordon, I'm Julian. I appreciate you sharing your fire, I was starting to worry I might die out there."

"The fire burns just the same whether three people our four people huddle around it. The drink on the other hand, that's going to cost you." He punched Julian lightly in the shoulder and gave him a boozy grin.

"I'm all out of money just now." This elicited a knowing nod from the woman that hadn't spoken yet. "I do have a little food I can share. Shitty canned stuff I'm afraid."

Julian unzipped his duffel and pulled out his remaining cans. Gordon peered over his shoulder. "Those'll do," he commented brightly.

They opened the rest of the tins and passed them around. Gordon finished introductions through bites of food.

"That surly one over there is Annabel. Once you get past her crusty exterior she's got a real heart of gold she does." Annabel glared and gave him the finger. "Julie might seem a little shy, but don't let it fool you. She's a real firecracker in the sack."

Julie chucked an empty can at his head, which he ducked.

"Don't know why I hang out with you Gordon. You're such an asshole."

"Because I'm your asshole sweetie."

She frowned and changed the subject. "So what brings you to our neck of the woods Julian?"

"I guess you could say I've had a bit of a breakdown. I won't lie to you," he lied, "I come from privilege. But the family fortunes turned the last year or so. My dad made some big bets in platinum futures, you can imagine how that went.

"I've been studying in Vienna. I came back from a lecture yesterday and there was an eviction notice taped to my door, along with a bill for past-due tuition. On top of that they cleaned out my bank account and froze my credit.

"Something inside me just sort of snapped. My memory is fuzzy; I remember being bounced from the college bar, then a shouting match with my girl. After that I don't know what I did. I finally came out of it this afternoon, wandering through a corn field of all places. And then I found you."

Gordon had gone back to the cooler. He was mixing up some powdered drink mix with vodka and water. He handed a cup to Julian.

"It's changing times, no doubt about it," Gordon said, punctuating with a swig from his own cup. "Julie and I used to work at a call center downtown; I was her manager. One day we came in to work and the door was locked. The whole goddamn thing had been replaced by one of those AIs. We were 'redundant.' They still use Julie's voice even, the bastards.

"Annabel over there got it even worse. She was a big-shot graphic designer. Worked on campaigns for sports teams, running shoes. Famous shit, you've seen her work. In the end the same trick for her. The computers do 80% of the job for pennies, how's a man to compete?" He raised his cup in a morbid toast. "Here's to the end of the human race. May the robots eat each other."

Gordon drained his glass in one go. Julian did the same. It was sweet and boozy, with a surprising bitterness at the bottom. Something about it tasted familiar, like... like...

"Christ notagain," Julian slurred as he blacked out.

* * *

Julian woke as the low sun shed its rays under the bridge. The last wisps of smoke curled up from the smoldering metal drum. He was surrounded by the junk from last night's festivities: Crushed cans, empty food tins, a discarded condom.

He looked around frantically for the duffle before realizing he was laying on it. It felt flatter than before.

Unzipping the bag confirmed his suspicions. His headset and Antoine's computer were gone. The only thing left in the bag was the old cell phone and the office supplies. Someone had written on the top sheet of the notepad.

Thanks for the party rich boy. Let's do it again some time.

XOXO

Annabel