User is Nikolai Gogol

Evening was approaching in the Moscow region. The long highway didn't think of emptying, and if it did, it was very, very slowly: cars sped past and people scurried about their business, and none of them risked breaking the rules by crossing the road in an uninvited place. The police patrol car and its driver looked very threatening. The policeman's figure wasn't strong and massive, but his incredibly tenacious and heavy gaze gave reason to believe that he wouldn't miss a fly by himself.

Fyodor spent the day relatively calm, even bored. Was it because even the most notorious violators froze under the onslaught of the cold calm in his eyes, not giving rise to an argument, thereby making his job easier, but also more bland? Or did he just not get enough sleep? Although not. He never got enough sleep and never complained about it.

It started to get dark. He thinks that nothing will happen this time, until he turns his head: a remarkable car is driving from afar, clearly faster than allowed on this stretch of road. It also swerves along the highway, as if there are obstacles placed there specifically to knock them down with a bumper.

Erratic drivers are just as familiar a picture as erratic pedestrians, but at least something more or less curious. Fyodor gives the car a stop sign, and it brakes somewhat sharply not far from his post on the side of the road. He decorously approaches the car, which is surprisingly intact for such risky driving. The driver's appearance, youthful and unencumbered by anxiety, doesn't unsettle. The same age as Fyodor, maybe. Still, this guy looks too careless. He even even rolled down the window in advance, smiling.

But you can't take Fyodor with smiles, flattery, bribes and so on.

"Good afternoon," the policeman introduced himself in a completely emotionless tone, "Chief inspector Fyodor Dostoevsky. You exceeded the speed limit and... hm, almost hit a pedestrian a few dozen meters back. Please show me your documents."