"Hello again," she said.

"Pedra," said Ryan, deflated at the sight of the one person he thought might have been genuine, but in no way willing to show it. "Fancy seeing you here. The gang's back together."

Pedra, now wearing body armour and sporting a swollen, blackening eye, raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

"The doctor will see you now."

"And I didn't even have to make an appointment. Now that's service."

Pedra nodded towards her employer. Ryan understood the gesture and, with the gun within kissing distance, followed it.

"Peddy's a good egg, isn't she?" Bradley asked, smiling warmly.

Not nearly as good an egg as the one appearing on her face, but I bet you have fun cracking that one.

"An absolute diamond. So, you were saying. Some shit about sheep."

"I was indeed. So, the shepherd tries again. And again. And, often, again. Sheep can be dense sometimes, you know?" She didn't wait for an answer. "So, what did we do with all the other participants?"

"Herd them back up like the sheep you think they are?"

"Well, you'd think so, wouldn't you? But you have the wrong idea, there."

"I don't think I do."

Ryan was tiring of the conversation. It was delaying him. Deliberately, of course. Now he had a gun – no, numerous ones now more guards were entering the room – pointing at him and Bradley there, his options were even more limited than they had been before. At least, then, he had the illusion of choice. Now, he had nothing. Only Bradley and her whims.

"We're not shepherds, Ryan. Far from it. We're here to enable people to be the directors of their own destiny. We want to control no one." She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to contradict her. "However it might appear to you, own only goal is to help Humanity. And we are so close! You are an integral part of that."

"OK? So?"

"So, all those you let out are no longer back in their cages. Well, not exactly, anyway."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"There were too many for my staff to round up. There'd be scuffles. Casualties. Potentially, those would include some of my staff, and we can't have that. They're difficult to get hold of, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Bradley paused and looked at Ryan quizzically, as if expecting him to comment on his agreement. He didn't.

"No? Well, believe me. It is. Our only option was to cycle all of them."

"You killed them? All of them?"

Ryan was aghast. The doctor professed her good intentions, but showed only a damningly ruthless idea of Life's worth. And how was he better than she? He'd released them. Freed them, he thought.

"No, silly. We don't kill anyone here. Well, almost anyone. I told you. Life is precious to us. We cycled them! I mean, we weren't prepared for such a large quantity, but we'll manage."

"What's the difference? They're dead, aren't they?"

"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. You've not listened or learned anything, have you? No-one ever dies here! Pretty much, anyway."

"You shot them. Or stabbed them. Electrified them all, for all I know. Either way, they're dead. Sit, you even shot yourself in front of me!"

Bradley laughed, loudly. The sound fell flat against the walls of the room, as if it, along with him, missed the joke.

"I know. You should have seen your face! Classic!"

Ryan wasn't amused and, when Bradley saw the anger clouding his face, she cut short her laughter.

"No. You're right," she said. "Not funny. Not funny at all." She snorted as a snigger sneaked through her tightly pursed lips. "I'm sorry Ryan. Can I call you Ryan? It really is hilarious."

"How can murder be hilarious? You're fucking insane!"

"Now, come on. Insane is a little strong. But it's not murder if I'm still standing, can it? Just as it wasn't murder when I cut your throat or blew your tiny little brain cells out. Or when Jarvis smashed your head in with his baton. Now that was a messy one."

"Don't forget the electrocution, Doc." reminded Pedra, cementing her feet solidly on Bradley's side.

"Oh yes. That was electrifying!"

Another laugh, echoed by the rest of her cohorts. She had a bizarre idea of humour. They all did.

"Look, whatever your definition is, you're still killing people."

"No, we're cycling them, just as we did with you. You're alive thanks to the cycling. You're alive thanks to us!"

"This isn't living, you monster!"

Ryan was done. His plans, such as they were, were abandoned now. Bradley had him, and he'd either be killed or cycled or cremated, for all he knew. But, either way, fuck it. Bradley was standing in front of him. Pedra and others had weapons trained directly on him. He was trapped. So, fuck it.

His mind warned him against his proposed actions at the same time it was prompting him on.

The mind that had so recently abandoned him and left him self-less, was now warring about the better course of action or inaction. The latter would be simply him giving up. He couldn't do that. Not now. He might well 'live' to regret it, but...

He launched himself forward, moving from standing to sprinting in an instant. Had he always had an athletic trait running through him? The thought was formed and gone before he could fully contemplate it. Many others joined it. Could she still be cycled if he killed her? Why was she smiling? After all this, could he have a latte or flat white coffee? Why was she smiling?

It didn't matter. He didn't get close. His arms, which were raising in readiness to grab her, barely made it past half way up. Pedra pulled the trigger. The bullet left the gun and entered the back of his head. Being an excellent and, in her role, well practiced shot, the entry wound was dead centre. The exit wasn't quite as perfectly, but the messy cavity made knowing this impossible. To Ryan, neither mattered. He was a lifeless heap on the floor.

"Good shot, Peddy," said Bradley. She wiped her cheek with her fingers, smearing the blood spattered there, then licked them clean. "Clean up on fucking aisle six, guys!"

She stepped away from Ryan's body and sighed.

"Why do we always have to go through this? Why doesn't he – all of them – just listen?"

"I don't know why you let him get this far every time," said Pedra. "Why not just start him here and forego the hassle of waiting? He's advanced enough, isn't he?"

"Peddy," said Bradley, grinning. "I could kiss you."

Pedra blushed, thankful her fellow guards couldn't see her embarrassment.

"Let's get him back," Bradley said, pointing towards the far end of the room. "Like Peddy says, we'll kick it off here. He's had enough goes. There's nothing else for him to process.

###

"Hello again," said Dr. Fiona Bradley a couple of hours later.

The main location hadn't changed, just the positions of the occupants. Bradley had had Ryan brought to the control platform. She'd instructed the guards, including Pedra, to remain hidden. The lights were off. It was a reset, partial instead of the usual full.

If at first you don't succeed, stop herding sheep. That was something Bradley lived by. She didn't see the point in flogging horses that were so far dead, they were decomposing mounds of sludge around bundles of bones. Unfortunately, with a certain few, she had no choice but to continue the flogging. Some horses were too valuable.

"Cycled again, eh?"

"Oh, you're that up to date? I'm impressed."

"Thanks, I guess. I suppose I'm used to this shit now."

"Good. It doesn't usually take us this long. You've been fucking difficult."

"You're welcome. None of this is easy for me, so why should I make it anything other than difficult for you?"

"Touche," said Bradley. "Or should I say 'touchy'? If you knew, you'd understand!"

"I want to understand! I want the truth! All you've done is kidnap me, carry out weird ass experiments and kill me repeatedly!"

"Ryan," Pedra said. She sounded bored, as if she'd had this conversation before. Maybe she had. Ryan hoped she had. Serve her right for leading him on. "If you really wanted the truth, you'd have selected a different on the screen next to you. You had the opportunity. You've had it so many times, and you've never chosen to look at your records."

"She's right," Bradley agreed. "It had to happen sooner or later. We gave you the chance. You didn't take it. Instead, you keep going down to see things you don't need to. Or, and trust me on this, want to."

"I make my own decisions. I'm not going to do something just because you want me to."

"And that's fine. Admirable. Just what we need. Just what we want, in fact."

"So, what's the issue?"

"Like you said, Ryan, you want the truth. We want you to have the truth. You deserve it, but it has to come at the right time, so you can gain this understanding you crave." The doctor stepped forwards, causing Ryan to retreat, moving him closer to the computer. "Yes, you've been experimented on. Yes, you've been cycled."

"Killed," insisted Ryan.

"OK, fine, killed. You say potato, I say spud. But, when it comes down to handing you reasons and truths and making you see why we do all of this, you avoid it. You choose not to every single time."

"Surely, not every time? How many have there been?"

"Every time," said Bradley, deliberately ignoring his question.

Ryan realised he was next to the computer. Bradley had guided him whilst holding him in conversation, the manipulative bitch.

Fine. Fuck it.

"OK, he said. "I'll do it."

"What?"

"I'll look. I'll play it your way."

Bradley and Pedra shared a bewildered glance, and Ryan felt empowered by its confusion. They hadn't expected that. He could remember so much, including coming through the vent above, but only once. All these other times they were referring to were still lost to him. All the previous lives he'd lived were lost too. He didn't remember Groundhogging through a multitude of attempts just to end up here every, as the doctor said, single time. In his mind, there was one timeline. One route. One set of memories, mostly complete.

"Why don't I remember the others?" he asked.

"Other what?"

"All the times I died. All the times I repeated my actions."

Bradley smiled with a smirk indicating she didn't think he'd understand what he was going to be told. He didn't appreciate it when people did that. The arrogance needed slapping out of them with a nice fat piece of wood. With a nail in the end. And splinters. Lots of splinters.

"That's just a result of our cycling. It manipulates the hippocampus. Streamlines the prefrontal neurons. Jangles the ganglia and steers the cerebellum. All that fun stuff. You wouldn't understand."

Maybe not, but there's no need to use a child's alliterationto illustrate his ignorance. That just showed her own.