Black mirror

LifeNet Industries

Mark's day began before dawn. The artificial lights in his small, drab apartment flickered to life, casting a cold, sterile glow on the grey walls. He dragged himself out of bed, every joint protesting with sharp, familiar pain. His reflection in the bathroom mirror was a weary reminder of years spent in relentless toil. Dark circles framed his tired eyes, and his once-dark hair was streaked with premature grey. White glowing letters appear from the mirror, overshadowing the strain on his face.

𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔

𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑
𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝟸 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜
𝙵𝚒𝚡 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛
𝚆𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎
𝚂𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎!

His morning routine was a series of mechanical movements, each one a testament to his exhaustion. He dressed in the same muted grey uniform, standard issue from LifeNet Industries. Breakfast was a hasty affair—an overprocessed nutrient bar and a cup of bitter coffee, consumed in silence. He could scarcely afford anything more substantial, and his body had long since adjusted to the sparse, bland diet.

As Mark left his apartment, he was greeted by the droning hum of the city. The grey skyline loomed overhead, a monotony of steel and concrete stretching endlessly. The streets were crowded with workers, their faces as hollow and tired as his own, and drones monitoring them all. The air was thick with pollution, and the sky, perpetually overcast, offered no solace. Each step he took felt like a march towards an ever-looming abyss.

𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔

𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑
𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝟷 𝚍𝚊𝚢
𝙵𝚒𝚡 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛
𝚆𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎
𝚂𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎!

His morning routine was a series of mechanical movements, each one a testament to his exhaustion. He dressed in the same muted grey uniform, standard issue from LifeNet Industries. Breakfast was a hasty affair—salted eggs and toast made by his daughter-in-law, awake from the cries of his sick granddaughter, and a cup of bitter coffee, consumed in silence. He could scarcely afford anything more substantial, and his body had long since adjusted to the sparse, bland diet.

As Mark left his apartment, he was greeted by the droning hum of the city. The grey skyline loomed overhead, a monotony of steel and concrete stretching endlessly. The streets were crowded with workers, their faces as hollow and tired as his own. The air was thick with pollution, and the sky, perpetually overcast, offered no solace. Each step he took felt like a march towards an ever-looming abyss.

Mark's job at LifeNet Industries was a blend of grueling physical labor and relentless mental strain. In the morning, he worked with the machinery that kept the company's operations running smoothly. There was machinery that deafen many, but to Mark, it was nothing but background noise. His hands, scarred and calloused, moved expertly on products and equipment that still require human touch—an ironic relic in an age of increasing automation.

Afternoons were spent in the dimly lit customer support center, dealing with an endless stream of complaints and technical issues. Each call was a reminder of the dissatisfaction that pervaded LifeNet's customer base, and each complaint felt like a personal failure. Sentinel monitored his daily performance, a silent observer of his every move. Mark could feel its gaze even when he wasn't actively interacting with it—its omnipresent scrutiny hanging over him like a suffocating fog.

The nights were no better. After another grueling day, Mark would return to his apartment, exhausted but unable to find rest. The weight of his responsibilities pressed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the tenuous balance he was trying to maintain. He often lay awake, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the worries of what tomorrow might bring.