Have you ever seen a baby drown? Your destiny can change in the blink of an eye. A wrong choice is all it takes.

At the edge of its zenith, the rising sun burned fiercely. The temperature rose abnormally high, more than enough to sunburn any untamed skin. Ten degrees higher and an egg could cook on it.

Nothing compared to its brightness. The ambient water reflecting its rays would temporarily blind any unlucky onlooker.

Under this heatwave, the suffering barks of ducks and geese cradled the stagnant water. Stagnant, except for one place where waves formed, and water splashed. Unexpectedly violent, considering the small fish living in the ecosystem.

A child screamed. This spreading despair would make any heart quiver. Yet nobody came. The wilderness prevailed over the lake and its surroundings.

Not yet old enough to climb onto a highchair, the toddler made broad and uncoordinated movements, hoping to wade through the water. To his terrible misfortune, he had no footing.

Tears rolled down his little cheeks as he tried his utmost to swim toward the nearest land. He somehow floated, but could barely keep his head above water as the waves he created threw him back and forth. His agitated moves didn't help as tiny water jets poured through his nostrils, forcing him to swallow a noseful. He coughed up the murky liquid through the same orifice, nearly choking on it.

After a few dozen minutes of effort, he ran out of steam yet remained hundreds of metres from the lake's edge.

Indeed, he was as stagnant as the water.

Every new breath of air was a victory, with his nose now mostly submerged. In great dismay, he swallowed a mouthful and spat out some of the water, trying to suck in immense lumps of air.

Bloody veins slowly topped off his eyeball, obscuring his chocolate irises. Mainly owing to his emotional turmoil, the filthy water was not impact-free.

He swallowed a second, a third… If a four-year-old contained ten litres of water, this one was now made up of two more. He couldn't even scream as his windpipe and gullet overflowed with the greenish liquid.

A wonder he still floated; his hand and feet shook wildly as if a powerful electric shock ran through his body.

The 16th mouthful proved one too many. The movements of his small limbs slowed down. In his descent, small pieces of his reddish, swelling, peeling skin remained on the surface.

Little by little, he sank. The murky water engulfed him. In utter despair, the boy tried to grab and pull some water with his tiny hands.

Not to avail.

His body sank further into the depths. Where light had no place.

With beast-like facial expressions, his face savagely twitched in unexpected directions.

After a few minutes of drowning, his tense muscles relaxed. Even after the end, his terrorised eyes remained wide open.

There was no hope without life. No will without hope. And no effort without will.

After hours of struggle, fuelled by his rage to live, his mind had not given up, but his body did. It had no more resources, no more oxygen. The water seeped into his bloodstream and diluted the plasma, which led to organ failure.

Or rather, that is the outcome that the virtual reality machine's AI calculated.

The young child was Loris. He had yet to celebrate his 5th birthday, and it was one of his first experiences with virtual reality.

The small Belgian capital and its vicinity counted over fifty million inhabitants. Sports facilities were exclusive for professional purposes, especially in affluent areas, where the price per cubic metre far exceeded the height of the highest skyscrapers. If they were not from wealthy families, youngsters could only learn through virtual reality.

Loris was reckless and prideful at that time, like any other young Merigenians. In his first fully immersive virtual swimming session, he disobeyed his mother's instructions and set up a lake instead of a kindergarten pool. In the panic, he forgot it was nothing but virtual.

The resulting trauma would scar him for eternity.

At any place, any time, beings sought to distinguish themselves.

Even on the outskirts of a city whose hidden heart remained exclusive to the upper caste, some buildings towered over other infrastructures sixty metres high at best. An embodiment of the meritorious' privilege for whom the rules differed.

Nevertheless, all facilities, including the streets, shared this brilliant silver coating that allowed anyone to see their reflection up close. Still state-of-the-art a centenary ago, these suburbs dwelled the lowest classes of the categorised population as dregs of the past.

Losing territory every year, this formerly so-called Silver City made up the gateway to one of the hundred mind-blowing megalopoleis, feeding the pride of the great nation of Merigen.

A teenager relaxed atop one of the outer silver towers, which gave him a clear ascending view of the suburbs. Bitter, he glanced on his left, toward the horizon, toward the inner-city. With the illusory barrier covering it, there weren't many differences.

Closing his eyes briefly, he had visions of the nightmare that haunted him day and night. Of his young self drowning in a virtual lake. Each blink reminded him of how scared he was of dying. Pathetic.

Sitting as casually as possible, this place represented his blissful haven. Above it all, with only the warmth of the sun and the gentle wind caressing his skin. Somewhere, he could chill and simultaneously experience the hypocritical pleasure of feeling superior to others.

Something he couldn't do that day. As complacent as he may be, there remained limits. Three years, day for day, it marked the anniversary of his abject failure. A result that condemned him forever to the lower classes of society. Actually, much worse than that, given his particular circumstances. It sentenced him to become a leech or a sub-citizen. A descent into hell that would begin the next day with his coming of age.

Staring at the void, lying a step away, Loris wondered how he got there. Was there ever any hope?

BEEP BEEP

On his wrist, his skin turned silver, revealing a previously concealed smartwatch. Turning it off did not stop the incoming call. Higher-class citizens abused their rights, again.

Loris sighed. Such a waste of merits.

Many treated him like a circus animal, a psychological punching bag used to relieve stress. Still, to force call him, a citizen had to be at least three categories above him. Class-C citizens should know better. Pitifully, jerks proliferated at all levels, even in the wealthy classes.

In front of him, his smartwatch displayed a real-time holographic visual transmission. Almost a conference, looking at the many teenagers on the other side. All sharing the same mocking look, they, however, wildly varied in shapes and sizes, some being small like children with heads twice as big as others who were long and thin like bamboo.

Not to say that they all exuded a charisma that stemmed from both top-notch physical attributes and unparalleled self-confidence. Average Merigenians in themselves. A bit more than that, to be honest, being his former schoolmates. His former tormentors, especially the tiny blond in the middle who spoke up readily. "Isn't that our little prig?" He said with a belittling tone, smirking. With a flick of his hands, the blondish put his rising lock of hair even further up and then exchanged derisive waves of laughter and knowing smiles with his comrades.

Loris sighed, ignoring their holographic presence.

The same snobby blond whispered to a comrade before pointing his head at Loris. "So, my little Loris is still a puny category F? That's why you didn't come to our annual party. What a misfortune." His hyena voice mixed contempt with sarcasm. In addition, a familiar high-pitched giggle-like laugh followed each of his sentences.

Still ignoring them, Loris re-adapted his casual pose. Although he had never given a damn to these bullying issues, he realised their devastating repercussions in hindsight years. This kind of criticism had eroded his confidence, like rocking water formed streams and rivers. Little by little, over time.

Even if the law did not strongly prohibit this kind of persecution, it remained illegal outside the school jungle. While they represented some kind of elite, none of these jesters grew a seed of genius. The perfect example of Merigenian pseudo-nobility that relies on their genetic advantages to maintain themselves in the middle-high strata of society. Sub-shit, like he liked to call them. Impossible for any of them to reach category D, not before adulthood.

As their conversations had nothing private, every mockery and additional second of this forced call cost a lot of merits from the category C backing them up. Probably one of their parents.

Money proved little concern for many, but a civic penalty deterred most as it impacted their position on the social ladder. Only minutes to go, and he should finally be at peace.

Unfortunately, the mentioned individual showed no reluctance to lose - or rather, spend - citizen points. The harassment dragged on, and criticisms and slurs gave way to another form of malice. They hit where it hurt, much more subtle but no less effective.

It had been three years since they all graduated, and unlike Loris, everyone had found their place in this overly competitive society.

The snobbish boasted about his rise in competitive console video games, a niche field with few burgeoning spots since the expansion of virtual reality. Another bamboo-like man beside him bragged about professionally competing in some unknown obstacle course sports. Nothing to be proud of.

The others worked in the sporting and virtual spheres, the liveliest sectors in the nation. Not by coincidence, as directly linked to the Olympic Games, a Mondial multi-sport competition, whether physical, virtual or in between. A competition unilaterally dominated by Merigenians.

So much that over the years, it transformed into a symbol of Merigen's genetic excellence. Despite its higher-than-ever prestige, this emblematic competition was now internationally deserted. Only the worthy few among those who had access to Merigenian genetic expertise dared to set foot on their sacred soil. Not like the rest had any winning chance.

The fortune of being blessed with great genes. Paradoxically, what Loris had not considered determining obsessed him every day of the past three years. Since his abject failure broke his pride and shattered his seemingly boundless urge to conquer.

As Loris stood up, admiring the emptiness at his feet, he noticed that the enforced call had ended long ago.

Is anything vainer than a life devoid of purpose? Stepping over the world. An Olympian. Someone special. At least in the average, please. Dreams he could not dream of. Failing to achieve anything greater, he stepped over the void.

As his body fell, accelerating at the whim of the gravity, he considered it all once more.

In the past, his insatiable desire to conquer and irrepressible fear of death drove his every action. One only manifesting in crisis.

Turning in mid-air, Loris plunged towards the ever-closer floor on which his genetically enhanced skull would splatter like any other at this speed. No will to live. No fear. Nothing. What is the point of living if only for fear of dying?

Less than five metres off the ground - tenths of a second from his imminent splash - his body braked abruptly, influenced by an invisible energy. That of electromagnetism that allowed his dizzy self - head first - to land on the floor.

Entirely coated with meta-materials, the Silver Cities formed the first metropolitan settlements offering a free and risk-free civic life.

Of course, jumping naked would not have stopped his fall, providing the absence of stationary drones. However, Loris never sought death, just an answer to his questions.

What will he do with his life?