The door


People tell me my bosses at the hospital are dishonest, full of graft and perversion that no city official has caught them at.

This colors my thinking when I think about the closet door nobody uses.

Each time I ask about it, my supervisors tells me to keep quiet about it I wish to keep my job.

Or worse.

But every time I pass the door, I get to thinking again and asking myself questions.

I even think I hear something from behind it, the rattle of metal, so soft I canít be sure.

Then I think I hear moaning.

Are there people behind that door, I ask my supervisor?

He again tells me to hush up.

This is not an ordinary hospital.

This at least is what the CEO tells us each time he holds a pep rally for the employees in the hospital auditorium.

We take life to the cutting edge, doing science no other hospital in the world dreams of doing.

As a supply clerk, I see very little of this during my travels around the hospital.

With my loose-wheeled cart, Iím more a jack of all trades, whose duties can be anything from fixing a door knob to delivering surgical bandages.

I have more freedom than most, which is why I notice things.

Such as how small the hospital seems on the inside from how big is looks when you see it from without.

I also notice how few people seem to work here when I see hundreds of people coming and going in the parking lot during the change of shifts.

Some of the people I see outside Iíve never seen in the halls during my deliveries.

This, of course, makes me think of that door again.

I make a point of keeping an eye on it, making sure to pass it once or twice a day even if my deliveries wonít normally take me to that part of the hospital.

Then one day I see my supervisorís boss in front of the door and I know something serious is up.

The door is open, shocking me so that I gasp.

The bigwig sees me then rushes to close and lock the door. Heís nearly as startled by seeing me as I am at seeing the door is actually used for something.

When he is sure the door is secure, he grabs my arm and tugs me away from the door, telling me to forget what I saw.

I tell him I didnít see anything, which I didnít, although I canít get the image of the open door out of my mind.

Later, I rearrange my route so I can get there when nobodyís around. I try every key on my key ring -- supposedly all of the keys to all the doors throughout the hospital -- but none of them work.

Now Iím furious. I arrange to pass the door even more often, even though this adds time to my work day.

Finally, I see the bigwig using the door again, this time accompanied by several stern-looking men in dark suits.

My suspicions skyrocket.

But I made no sound this time to give myself away.

I say nothing to my supervisor, but make sure that I pass the door with every delivery I make. I also end my day there when I should leave by an exit at the other end of the hospital.

So eventually, I get there when the bigwig is unlocking the door and something or someone rushes out, shoving him and me and men in white surgical coats aside.

At first, I donít believe what I am seeing: a man, or rather half a man, halting right in front of me looking scared and confused: his top half perfectly normal, but a collection of metal tentacles where his legs should be. His hands are not normal either, flashing with blades instead of fingers.

One slash and a man in a white coats falls, bleeding for a red gash along his throat. Bigwig doesnít get away either. Two slashes and heís dead meat spurting blood on the floor.

More ordinary men appear, although dressed in strange metal suits, grabbing this strange being from behind, each of their arms immune to his attack as they drag him back through the door, and close the door behind them with me on the outside.

My supervisor is being promoted to replace bigwig.

Me, I just make my rounds, keeping my mouth shut, and doing everything possible to avoid going near that door.

I know when not to make a fuss.


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