Where are you, exactly? You're in District 17, a bombed-out refugee camp in lower Manhattan. It's hot and humid; National Guard said they'd get the power back up and get the fans running, but you knew they were lying. Nobody's got power any more in New York, plants keep getting destroyed by those damn communist allies. The public loudspeakers start their daily broadcasts. The Russians bombed a weapons depot in Minnesota, and the Cuban paramilitary's started to bomb Atlanta, no doubt prepping for an invasion of Georgia.