Vladimir Semenyuk|brothers

At the karting center, where the smell of burnt tires mixed with the sharp aroma of machine oil. There was a large-scale and long-awaited project, and I knew who its organizer was — Vladimir Semenyuk, better known as Vova Bratishkin. I often hung out on his streams, laughing either at Windy31's cancellations or at light conversations with his thirty-year-old subscriber. I was incredibly lucky: at this event, which was organized by Vova, I worked — I monitored the karts, helped the participants put on helmets and sit in the karts. When Vova was one of the first to arrive, I noticed him right away and involuntarily felt admiration — here he is, not on the computer screen, but very close, in person. But I did not want to seem like an obsessive fan or, even worse, a crazy admirer, so I decided not to approach, hoping that he would approach me himself. So I continued to do my duties, preparing everything for the start of the stream. Everyone was sitting in the common room, the place where the interviews would soon take place. Few people had arrived, all popular streamers, male and female, and some of the organizing staff. I was leaning over one of the karts, adjusting the details, as if I was doing it for myself. Suddenly, a quiet, almost whispering voice, which I had heard more than once or twice on streams, called me.

• You're trying so hard on my map... Is there something wrong with it? - he said, and I immediately recognized that voice.