Tom has been at this Job since the start of the pandemic and has gotten used to the job, which or has finally grown numbed to work. Every morning he wakes up, does some exercises, and takes time to clean himself for another day at work. he walks down to the mess hall, eats whatever they have him, and socially stares at his co-workers as they run out of anything to talk about besides work and work...would isn't a subject one wants to hear about while eating; burning half-mutated bodies.
The workday starts as usual, a cup of coffee, a look at the schedule to see who is doing what and what lab is up for pick up, finally the hazmat suits slip on. it's time for a 12-hour shift of carrying, dissecting, and burning the bodies of the fallen subjects and staff at the black site. nearly 12 hours of looking at once-living beings that have, by science or by the nature of the work, been twisted in ways that couldn't be call peaceful at all. The closest being the occasional suicides, but even then, it was clear that overwork and mental exhaustion would have possibly claimed them soon.
After the final body was burned for the shift and the last of the reports were filed, it was off to dinner with more social staring with co-workers that may or may not either get killed, become part of the test pool, or "rotated out" whatever that means that this point. No one at this level has heard anything from the outside world in what felt like years now, and no one has been issuing new calendars. Heck, some IT people removed all the date functions off anything that can keep track of it. It was just the oversized old clocks everywhere ticking in unison, controlling every moment of his life up to this point.
When he gets back to his room, he makes himself some tea or coffee, depending on what he can smuggle out of the lab break rooms, do a short workout, makes a secret tally of the days so far.... make a note on getting another notebook or journal as its nearly done with his 12th book and gone to bed.
This was Tom's life so far; this has been his routine for as long as he can remember. He looks up to the ceiling where a poster of a happy sun with the worlds "each day will be brighter than the last" and he prayed for something to break out of this routine.