My head throbbed. My legs ached. Every part of my body groaned in a dull, low chorus of pain.
My thoughts were silent, allowing the noise of the world to filter through. A bird tweeted softly to its companions in the sky. Leaves fluttered in the wind. Far away, there was the steady sound of metal blades slicing air. The sensation of grass tickling my skin was the only thing I could feel.
Slowly, as to not irritate anything, I opened my eyes.
Whiteness blinded me, harsh bright light. I thrust my hand out in front of my face to lessen the glow, wincing at the supernovas of pain reverberating inside my head. Eventually, the light faded, and I dropped my arm.
I was on the floor, back flat, staring at the blue sky, in the middle of what seemed like a wooded clearing. Trees lined the edge of it, wafting slightly. My vision was still blurred, sending anything further than the trees into a mess of color. I sat up, one singular thought forming.
How did I get here?
I had no memories of transport here. Nothing to guide me on my purpose here, nothing to tell me where this was. 
Nothing. At. All.
It was at that point I began to panic. 
In a rush of adrenaline, I stood up, swaying as the world tilted radically and almost losing my footing. I didn't care.
"What is this?" I whispered, hoping that my voice would reassure me. Instead I was alarmed at how shaky it sounded.
Somewhere among the canopy, a bird chirruped in response.
"Who am I?" I demanded of the thin air; of the bird. A single tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek, leaving a trail of salt. 
It felt like someone had scooped out half of my brain. Practical memories were left intact, how to ride a bike, how to speak, but names and faces were smeared into oblivion. Anything tied to emotions were gone. No trace. Things every person should know; mother, father, family, entire life.
Except one thing.
My name is Steve, I thought. My name is Steve.
I clung to that fact like it was a lifeline. Being able to know one thing about this unpredictable world was infinitely better than knowing nothing.
More water from my eyes. More pain resonating in my skull.
I sunk to my knees.

---

"Subject is safe inside the experiment." She reported, eyes darting across a computer screen. "Bird Cam 002 fully functioning."
"And the helicopter?" A man wearing a long laboratoy coat prompted.
"Safely outside the boundaries." She replied. "Although the boy may have heard it for a few seconds."
He sighed, infuriated but trying not to show it. "How many times to I have to tell you, Shelia? We cannot do anything that threatens the success of this experiment." 
As soon as his back was turned, the girl rolled her eyes. "Sorry, sir."
Suddenly, a loud knocking rang through the room. "The door, Shelia. Get the door!"
It swung open, revealing a hysterical woman standing in the door frame. Dark bags lined the bottom of her eyes and her hair was tousled, as if she'd just got out of bed. "Let me see my boy." She demanded, voice on the border of breaking. "I want to see Louis."
Before the lab man could respond, Sheila jumped in. "Of course, Ms Harrow." She guided her to the screen and offered her the chair. Ms Harrow refused.
"I can't bear to see him like this." She sniffed, staring at the image of a boy kneeling in the grass, weeping.
"May I remind you that it was his choice to sign up for this?" The man scolded her in a factual voice, devoid of most emotion. "He agreed to the memory wipe, agreed to the danger, all in the name of science."
"That reminds me." Ms Harrow said, ripping her eyes away from the screen in a rough separation that seemed almost painful. "He will have his memory restored when he finishes, right?"
He shrugged, replying, "If he finishes."
A sob escaped her lips, but she forced it back down, ploughing on. "And if he should..."
"Then we'll lower his replacement into the experiment and continue. It'll be interesting to see how a second individual would react."
"You're sick." She sniffed. "There can't be a real reason to justify this."
All the while, Sheila watched on, eyes flitting like she was watching an interesting tennis match, frantically gesturing to the man to end the conversation. It wasn't good to show too much attachment to the subjects, considering all the awful things that could happen to them out there. During the last experiment, she'd witnessed people torn apart by monsters, boiled alive in lava or reduced to skin and bones in the clutches of famine. The first night was always the hardest, they learned. Spend too much time wallowing in despair, well... She snapped back to reality from the slideshow of bodies revolving in her mind.
"...identify the flaws in human beings. To see how they survive, and to see how they don't survive. Then to rectify these flaws and create a more efficient human being. Do you understand?"
"I understand." Ms Harrow nodded. "But what I don't understand is how my son could have signed up to help such a vain cause."
"Yes, some could argue it's rather vain. Although isn't it for the best?"
Ms Harrow ignored his question, wiping her eyes with a shaky hand. "Well, I guess all I can do is wait now, huh?" She voiced aloud, not really expecting a response.
The scientist, however, agreed. "Watch and wait to see if he lives or dies."

---

His one remaining fact, his name, was a lie.
This entire portion of his life was a lie.
Everything was a carefully constructed lie as he lived and died inside an experiment out of his control.
Oblivious, one by one the Steves continued surviving.