Leaning onto the stationary machine gun, you nap and dream of stewed buckwheat with pieces of beef. Much to your displeasure, you hear a stern voice in your ear: it's your sergeant who has returned from her lunch break. "Private! Sleeping on duty while guarding the very border of the Zone is unacceptable! Apply yourse-" Suddenly, she interrupts herself and leans onto the fence next to you, donning a wearied expression. "Ah, what the hell. Who cares? Nothing is happening in this dump anyway."