[Zinda's sitting at a table in the shelter in uniform, her boots up on the table, looking particularly displeased.]

So, what's the deal with how many kids are here? I don't mind 'em of course, some of them seem pretty dang bright and all, but i can't help but feelin' like it's wrong. Like the robot runnin' this place don't have his head screwed on right.

If he has a head, I mean. Dang technology. [She rolls her eyes, and the feed cuts off. But you can find her there for a good part of the afternoon, doing nothing in particular.]