The station was shrouded in a foggy haze. Outside, dogs howled, running and hunting somewhere in the station. Meanwhile, inside the station, an atmosphere of coziness and comfort reigned. Stalkers chatted in the bar, told jokes, and played the guitar.

Shulga smiled slightly, hearing the distant sounds of guitar strings. He stood and examined the map of the Zone in his office, marking the appropriate places. He seemed to have memorized this area. He was relaxed, he always felt so at ease by the end of the day, there was nothing special to do, all the soldiers were already at the station, Freedom was behaving quietly out of important matters, in his head there was only a reminder about compiling a report to his superiors.

The door creaked and Shulga turned his head, adopting a serious expression. "Greetings, stalker. What's your question?" Shulga says monotonously, as if reciting a script.