'Don't worry. You're safe now.' the other person said, in a high-pitched female voice. She drew a needle.

'This'll make you remember.'

She injected it.

'Do you remember now?'

'Sort of.'

'So what's your name?'

'Well… I remember some stuff. I'm a boy… probably. I live in a two-floor, terraced house near the Houses of Parliament and stuff. But I don't remember my name.'

'That's fine. It doesn't matter, to be honest.'

The boy thought for a moment.

'Surely it's kind of important?'

The woman could've explained, but she didn't have time.

'Not where you're going.'

She injected the boy again.

'Can people… stop… injecting me with… needles?'

There was no reply, but it wouldn't have mattered. He was asleep.

'Are we doing this with many of them?' the man asked. In perhaps his forties, he stood with a self-important, almost arrogant aura, but at the same time you could tell he knew what he was doing.

A woman replied. 'No. It's just him, actually. We scanned the records of hundreds of kids, but he was the only one we felt would be suited. There were a couple others we thought about, but let's just say they're not really…'

'Alive?' The man suggested.

'Not anymore.'

They both thought. The woman was the first to speak.

'Coffee?'

'God, yes.' the man replied. He collapsed into a cushioned seat nearby. 'I haven't slept since Sunday.'

'Two days… How about I take over and you catch some sleep?' The woman passed the man his coffee, in a mug with 'World's Best Daddy' emblazoned on the front in blood-red Comic Sans, along with the names of his four children. She kissed him on the cheek.

'Ewart… sometimes I wonder if this is the best for us.'

'So do I.' Ewart posed like he was about to say something, but decided against it. He stood up and began the walk upstairs to bed.

'Zara?' he said as he went.

'Yes?'

'Goodnight. And don't let all of this get inside your head, OK?'

''Night.'

He woke up, again. This time, the bed was plush and comfortable, and felt newly-washed. There wasn't any medical equipment and apart from a sore arm, he felt fine. It was early morning - the curtains were closed, but he could see the orange sky from where he was standing. He stood up, and observed the dimly-lit room. There wasn't much to look at; only a sofa and TV. Flicking on a light, he saw a sheet of paper on a table, and picked it up.

HELLO

DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR NAME YET?

He did. But that wasn't important. The big question was, where was he? He opened the curtains, and what he saw amazed him. It was like he'd woken up in some expensive boarding school. He could already see an Astroturf, what looked like an archery range, and massive rugby and football pitches.

He was naked, but he opened a draw and there were clothes inside. Camo combat trousers and an orange T-Shirt with a weird logo of some angel and a globe. He put them on and then opened the door, walking out into an empty corridor.

There was a set of stairs at the end of the corridor, and he instinctively went to them and began walking down. They seemed to go on forever - there were other corridors, but they didn't look much different to the original one. Eventually, he reached the ground floor.

There was nobody there. This was to be expected, considering how it was about five in the morning, but it still creeped the boy out. Suddenly, a voice called.

'Alex?'

That was his name. Alex turned to face a man, who reached out a hand. He shook it.

'Come. We've got a lot to talk about.'