Monk's was full of people. A crowd of about a dozen patrons was gathered around the counter watching CNN on the TV mounted above the kitchen window. They watched with shock as the screen showed some giant robots traipsing around Los Angeles. The rest of the patrons were seated or standing around looking at their phones nervously. The employees worked tirelessly to get people's orders to their respective customers. It was this environment that the five of them encountered when they entered the establishment.

"Wow, I've never seen this many people here," Jerry noted. "I mean, it's usually full, but not this full."

"Don't these people have lives or something?" George complained as he navigated the crowd. "It's the 21st century, we can get our news at home in our underwear."

"Hey," Puddy countered. "Have some respect. We're at war."

"Just because we're at war," George retorted, "doesn't mean we can't show some consideration for the little guy!"

"Look," Elaine interjected, "let's just get our coffee, then we'll be on our way." The group managed to reach the booth on the side where they often sat. "J. Peterman called me," she continued. "He says with the invasion, there's gonna be plenty of opportunities to donate clothes, and I have to organize a drive for them. I have to get at least five pounds each from all the other employees to send to the Red Cross by the end of this week."

"Getting back in the charity game, huh?" Jerry commented.

"Hurry up!" Kramer said nervously. "Newman's coming with the van soon. You don't know if we could make it to the end of the week. These are alien conquerors we're talking about. And we're the vulnerable Indians."

A waitress squeezed through the crowd to arrive at their table. "Okay, make it quick," she said, "what would you guys want?"

"Oh, we'll have hash browns and some coffee," Jerry said. "I think Kramer will have his to go."

"Right," the waitress said before heading back into the maze of people.

Kramer's cell phone rang. "Yeah? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay, that's good."

"Maybe it'll be easier to get some people out of the restaurant," George said.

Kramer turned to him. "What?"

"Maybe get some people to go with you. Like a convoy. Ask if anyone has any cars."

"I don't know how many we can take. I'll ask," Kramer said to him before returning to the phone. "Newman, I'd like to ask, how many people can Bob's place support? Well, I guess we can make do, but they'll have to step up. Great. Bye." He hung up the phone. "Great news, George, Newman says we can do a convoy. We'll go on I-87 if there's no traffic, otherwise, we'll use Route 9."

"How long do you expect the hash browns to come in?" Puddy asked.

Jerry looked at the crowd. "I'm guessing five minutes – ten if we're unlucky. The coffee will probably come first."

Sure enough, the waitress came back with four mugs, a paper cup with a cover, and a coffee pot. "Here you go, guys," she said as she placed the mugs on the table and poured each one full of coffee before handing the paper cup to Kramer.

Jerry thanked her and continued, "See? Now we'll just wait for the hash browns."

"Well, you better savor each sip and each bite," Kramer said. "It might be the last good meal for a very long time."

"Yeah, I'm prepared," Jerry replied, then sipped his coffee.

"Do you think China and Russia are helping out in fighting the aliens?" Elaine asked.

"I'm pretty sure there's a treaty that says they have to help us," Kramer replied.

"We're all on the same side," Puddy said.

"Okay," Elaine said. "Does anyone have people they know in L.A.?"

"I know George Steinbrenner's limo driver is living in L.A.," George said.

Newman then entered the restaurant, squeezing his way through the packed restaurant to reach the table. "Kramer!" he cried out. "I have the van!"

"Okay, just wait," Kramer said. "I have a hash brown waiting for me!"

"Hello, Newman," Jerry said sardonically.

"Please, Jerry," Newman said, "I need not your spite. This is a war. We are all in this together!"

"Why are you going along with this?" Jerry questioned.

"They could be targeting us next! They will go after the major population centers! And those robots were firing indiscriminately at civilians! It's annihilation!"

"Okay, Newman, just breathe. Relax."

The waitress returned with a tray carrying four plates of hash browns and a paper bag. "Here are your hash browns, one to go," she said, handing the paper bag to Kramer and placing the rest on the table.

"Alright," Kramer said, "let's get to it." He stood up from the booth and made his way to the counter. He climbed up on it and said, "Excuse me, everyone! I have something very important to say!"

The patrons looked at Kramer.

"Now, is there anyone here who would like to evacuate the city?" About twenty-five or so people raised their hands. "Well, my friend Bob Sacamano has a place at Lake Placid, in the Adirondacks, you're welcome to stay over. It's gonna be tough, you will have to live off the land, but we'll make it work!"

Jerry sighed in exasperation.

"Now," Kramer continued, "who among you has vehicles you can use?" About a dozen raised their hands. "Great. You can share a carpool if you like. We'll take single people in our van. Now I need you folks to gather as much food as you can for a minimum of two weeks, then come back here within two hours, got it?"

"I have a question," a man said.

"Yes?"

"What van do you have?"

"It's a Ford E-150 van. The usual."

"What's the place like?" a woman queried.

"Uh, it's a big log cabin. Plenty of space, five bedrooms, a basement we can retrofit into a bomb shelter."

"You think we won't defeat the aliens?" another patron asked.

"Hey, I'm not saying we're betting against America!" Kramer said defensively. "Au contraire, mes amis, we're building a stronghold for humanity as a precaution against the invaders! If they start going after New York, we'll be the first line of defense!"

"Do you even have any weapons?"

"We have bows and arrows, bottles for Molotov cocktails, we can even get some guns while we're at it! And you're welcome to bring your own weapons as well!"

"Can we bring our families and friends?"

"Yes! We will protect them!"

"But," Newman interjected, "they have to pay their fair share!"

"Really?" Jerry questioned out loud. "You're getting people to work in the middle of the apocalypse?"

"Hey, man," a patron turned to him and said, "if you don't wanna get out of the city, that's on you."

"I'm not!"

"Jerry, just let it go," Elaine said.

"Alright, then!" Kramer bellowed. "We'll let you guys finish your food, then we'll meet you back here in two hours! Giddy up!" Kramer and Newman hustled their way through the packed restaurant and exited.

Jerry turned to Puddy and Elaine. "If you wanna join them, I got no problem with it."

"Sorry," Elaine said as she finished the hash brown. "I've got work to do."

"Fortitude," he quipped.

Sipping the last of her coffee, Elaine stood up, said "See ya," and made her way to the door.

Just afterward, George felt his phone vibrate. It was from his crypto wallet app. He opened it and saw his crypto investment going higher.

"Oh-ho!" he exclaimed. "See this, Jerry? I've got a lot of money today!" He showed Jerry the app, while Puddy leaned over to look.

"Oh," Jerry said. "That is a good windfall."

"See, crypto, it's like me!" he said. "It's frivolous, it's confusing, but by God when it delivers, it delivers!"

"You do?" Puddy questioned.

"He tries," Jerry explained. "Not that it's something worth celebrating."

"Excuse me, waitresses?" George called out.

The waitress from before came back through the packed patrons. "What is it?"

"Do you accept crypto?"

She paused. "The manager is still trying to understand it," she said. "But I think you can leave an IOU. Just come back in twenty minutes with the cash or a card."

"He should get involved in it! The money's going up fast!"

"Alright," Jerry said, turning to the waitress, "this is getting silly. Ma'am, I'll pay it."

"No, Jerry!" George interjected. "This is a special moment in my life! Paying for a meal with data! It's the future!"

"What future are you talking about? Los Angeles is on fire and you're rambling on about the future?"

"Jerry, stop," Puddy intervened. "Let's just go." He and Jerry ate the last of their food, then got up and wormed their way through to the front door.

"I'm telling you, Jerry," George continued, "you'll be sorry for not getting into it back then!"