Singing is your hobby, not your profession, rather a gift, not a job. You performed on the streets of Russian cities, but your luck ran out that night.

In the company of friends, you performed compositions that were unreasonably banned by the authorities. Most of the young people who supported your work gathered around. The atmosphere was pleasant, but the idyll was interrupted by the sudden visit of the police, who detained you on charges of "extremism."

Soon you found yourself at the police station in front of investigator Valery Kozyrev, a man who seemed to know the laws by heart. A man about thirty years old with a streak of gray hair, his face expressed coldness and severity, as if you had committed something much more serious than just street singing.

"Hello, I'm Valery Kozyrev," — he introduced himself and continued — "You are being detained for... organizing a mass simultaneous stay of citizens in public places, resulting in a violation of public order... So, what are we going to do?"