He was getting very cold, and tiring quickly, his muscles aching. He had walked along the canal for hours and had seen nothing but smooth walls. If he lost his grip here, he would be washed away until he drowned - or, even worse, the Mist would alert his parents, who would come sweeping down in the family flitter to rescue him. The first real decision he had made had been a stupid one, and all his defiant dreams of showing his parents he was worthy of their respect were imploding.

He was starting to shiver. He had no choice. He prepared to call for the Mist’s help.

‘Up here.’

The voice came from above. Looking up, he saw three heads silhouetted against the sky, three small curious faces peering down. ‘Who are you?’

‘Try there!’ The middle figure leaned over and pointed. It was a girl, a bit younger than he was. She was pointing at a shelf on the canal wall, all but invisible from his position down here. With an effort he lifted up his hand and grabbed at the shelf. It was dry and he grasped it easily, and already felt safer.

‘All right,’ the girl called down. ‘Now see if you can reach that foothold. To your left, just behind that broken stone . . .’

In this way, with the girl spotting one hand- or foothold after another, he managed to haul himself up out of the water.

Exhausted, he flopped on his belly on the bank.

He got his first good look at the children who had helped him. They were a girl and two boys. The girl looked about twelve, and the boys, wide-eyed, were no more than eight or nine. They wore simple shifts of bright blue cloth that looked oddly clean. They weren’t alike, not like siblings, a family.

One of the boys approached him, and Symat reached out a hand. But there was a soft chime, and his fingers passed through the boy’s palm. The boy yelped and drew back, as if it had hurt.

Symat looked at the girl. ‘You’re Virtuals.’

She shrugged. ‘We all are. Sorry we can’t help you up.’

‘I can manage.’ Not wanting to shame himself before this girl, he rolled on his back and sat up, panting hard.

The Virtuals stared at him. ‘My name is Mela,’ the girl said. ‘This is Tod, this is Chem.’

‘I got stuck,’ Symat said, hotly embarrassed.

Mela nodded, but he saw the corners of her mouth twitch. ‘You ought to put your clothes back on before you get too cold.’

One of the boys, Tod, said in a piping voice, ‘We can’t get them for you.’

‘Sorry,’ said the other, Chem. ‘Would you like some food?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll show you.’

Symat towelled himself on his jacket and dressed. His clothes dried quickly, and, sensing his low body temperature, warmed him. The three Virtual children watched him silently.