jumped out from around the corner.
“Fine, I’m continuing to delve into programming,” Lyosha answered, his voice sounding focused. “They give a lot of homework at KBTU, but it’s interesting. How are you?”
“Everything’s fine with me,” Sanzhar answered, pushing his way through enemy lines. “By the way, our game is almost ready for testing. How’s the programming going?”
“It’s going well, but sometimes there are bugs,” Lyosha admitted. “And now I’ll need to fix a few things. Lags at the most inopportune moment…
Sanjar heard the disappointment in his friend’s voice as the game suddenly slowed down, and then a “lag” appeared on the screen, freezing the characters in place.
– There, you see? That problem again. I’ll have to dig into the code again, – Lesha sighed heavily.
– Yeah, – Sanjar felt his friend’s annoyance. – Okay, don’t worry. You’ll cope, as always.
– I hope so, – Lesha sounded a little upset. – Okay, I need to go figure this out. Then we’ll discuss how to improve the graphics and sound.
– Okay, let’s go. Good luck, – Sanjar said, exiting the game.
The room was filled with silence again, interrupted only by the noise of the fans in the computer. Left alone, Sanjar immersed himself in his thoughts. Zhaniya’s grievances and the tension in his relationship with his sister suddenly seemed more important than the bugs in the game. Deciding it was time to apologize, Sanjar stood up and headed for the door to go to his sister and make peace.
1:8 Reconciliation with the younger sister. Sanjar quietly approached the door of Zhaniya’s room and knocked, trying not to be too loud, but not too quiet. There was no answer. He waited a few seconds, then knocked again, this time a little more insistently. From behind the door came the muffled, slightly capricious voice of his sister:
– What do you want?
Sanjar thought for a moment about how to best reconcile with his sister, then smiled slyly and suggested:
– Let me show you a new trick?
Quick footsteps were heard behind the door, and a few seconds later Zhaniya ran out into the living room, her face glowing with anticipation. She always adored tricks, especially when Sanjar showed them. She sat down on the ottoman, ready for a new magic show, her eyes literally shining with anticipation.
Sanjar, pleased that he had attracted her attention, stood opposite his young spectator. He began to manipulate the cards, deftly shuffling them in his hands so that they seemed alive, then took several other props out of his pocket – small balls, handkerchiefs, coins. Zhaniya did not take her eyes off him, her attention was riveted to every movement of her brother.
With each passing moment, the trick became more and more impressive. The cards magically disappeared and reappeared, the coins unexpectedly turned into multi-colored balls, and the handkerchiefs tied themselves into knots. Zhaniya sat, holding her breath, with a wide smile on her face.
However, their passion for magic was interrupted when Aida’s voice was heard from the kitchen:
– Children, you have to get up early tomorrow! Get ready for bed, tomorrow is work, university and school!
Zhaniya, although she sighed, her face still glowed with a smile. She looked at Sanzhar and said with sincere gratitude:
– Thank you, Sanzhar, it was great.
Sanzhar, feeling that the moment had come to finally settle the relationship, extended his hand to his sister and, smiling, said: “Peace?”
Zhaniya, still smiling, nodded vigorously and shook her brother’s hand firmly. It was their little reconciliation, a gesture that meant more to both of them than any words.
– I have a favor to ask of you, – Sanjar began, slightly nervous. – Can I hang your painting of the flying city in my room? I really liked it.
Zhaniya narrowed her eyes, her gaze became sly, but there was not a drop of offense in it:
– Okay, take my painting… but only if you play chess with me.
Sanjar raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing that chess was not his favorite game, but quickly agreed:
– Okay, for such a beautiful painting I am ready to play a game with you. Let’s do it tomorrow.
Zhaniya happily jumped up from the ottoman and ran to her room. A moment later she returned, holding the painting in her hands. She handed it to her brother with special trepidation, as if she were handing over something precious, and then, saying “Good night,” she ran back again. Sanzhar turned the painting over in his hands, admiring its details once more, and, with a slight smile on his face, went to his room. He felt that he had taken the right step by making peace with his sister, and with each step toward his room, this thought brought him inner peace and satisfaction.
1:9 Falling asleep. Sanzhar carefully closed the door to his room, leaving the evening bustle of the house behind it. Silence reigned inside, broken only by the muffled sounds of the night garden outside the window. The room was immersed in semi-darkness, which was barely dispelled by the light from the street lamps breaking through the curtains. Sanzhar put Zhaniya’s painting on the table and looked at it thoughtfully. The flying city depicted by his sister seemed simple and surprisingly complex at the same time, reflecting Sanzhar’s own inner world at that moment – full of contradictions and hidden meanings.
He slowly approached the bed and sat down on the edge, feeling how the softness of the mattress pleasantly gave in under his weight. Thoughts about the past day swirled in his head: his mother’s success, an awkward moment with Zhaniya, the technical difficulties of the project with Lesha. All this intertwined, forming a complex picture, like threads in thick fabric.
Sanzhar remembered his father’s words that the future depends on the efforts and diligence of each. These words, although simple, had a deep meaning that was only now beginning to reach him. He had always wanted to create something meaningful, to leave his mark on the world, to prove to himself and others that he was capable of more. The project with Lesha had ceased to be just a game – it had become the embodiment of his desire for self-realization. His gaze returned to the painting. “A flying city…” Sanzhar thought. There was something attractive in this image, something that made him think about the future. Perhaps Zhaniya’s childhood fantasy contained a metaphor for their shared dreams – a desire for more, for a world where they could realize themselves completely.
He carefully picked up the painting, feeling its fragility and at the same time its value. It was not just an image, but a symbol of their family connection, their hopes and desires. Sanzhar stood up and, finding a suitable place on the wall opposite the bed, carefully attached the painting. Now it had become part of his world, his personal space, reflecting those thoughts and feelings that he himself could not yet express in words. Sanzhar lay down on the bed, feeling how fatigue was gradually beginning to take over his body. He continued to look at the painting, allowing his thoughts to smoothly flow from one to another. Images flashed before his eyes: Lyosha, concentrating on the code; Zhaniya, smiling after reconciliation; Aida, proudly holding a Forbes magazine; and his father, always ready to support and give advice. His eyes slowly closed, but before he finally fell asleep, a thought flashed through his mind: “What if dreams about the future can actually become reality? What if flying cities are not just a fantasy, but a possible future that we can build?” With these thoughts, Sanzhar slowly fell asleep. He felt that something unusual was waiting for him ahead, something that would open up new horizons for him and lead to the most unexpected discoveries. Zhaniya’s painting was the last thing he saw before his consciousness finally fell silent, leaving him in the sweet embrace of sleep, where amazing adventures awaited him.
Chapter 2.