The door that must never be open

For thirty years that old proverb has been playing over and over in my mind, every hour of every day that I've been down here in this tiny security station, seated at this metal desk, the coffee maker off to one side, the two phones off to the other, the wall of monitors before me.

Every day I have felt the temptation gnawing at me, the urge to answer the mystery once and for all, to find out what this is all about...

But then I remember the camera mounted on the wall behind me. The camera monitoring me...the guy who monitors the door, making sure I don't screw up, don't fall asleep on the job or die of a heart attack or do something I'm not supposed to. In a way it's kind of funny. They're guarding the guardian.

I never did give in temptation and let my curiosity get the better of me. For thirty years I did my job exactly as I was told. The pay is great for one thing. You wouldn't believe how much I make if I told you. Not to mention the retirement package.

For another thing the contract I signed with the Foundation when they hired me specifies that any violation of the terms and conditions of my job title will be grounds for immediate execution.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Not termination of employment or legal prosecution -- execution.

It definitely raised my eyebrow when I read it. It seemed like top-secret, cloak-and-dagger, shadowy government organization stuff, like out of a 60's spy movie. In a way, I guess that's what it is. It should have raised a red flag, but, like I said, they were offering me an embarrassing amount of cash for basically amounted to guarding a door. It was a hell of a lot more than I could ever hope to make working anywhere else, especially since I only had a high school education and no qualifications for anything else. So I signed on the dotted line, and also signed the nondisclosure agreement they handed to me.

My job's pretty easy, over all. I spend twelve hours a day sitting here in my little office in the underground parking garage of this seemingly innocuous office building watching the monitors in my little glass cubicle at the top level. (Some other guy covers the other twelve hours, but I've never met him.)

My official job title is "Garage Attendant," but I don't do shit besides watch the monitors. I have to watch them all the time. I'm only allowed to use the restroom three times a shift, and only for no longer than two minutes at a time (there's a tiny bathroom in the office) and before I do, I have to call my supervisor on my smartphone and check in with him. There are twelve of them, three rows of four on top of each other. Cameras 1 through 8 just give different high-angle perspectives of various parts of the different levels of the garage (there are three of them). The bottom row, Cameras 9 through 12, well, if you saw them, it might strike you as a little strange how they all were showing the same thing.

The door on Level 2.

It is in the center of the west wall, across the floor from the ramp, without any other doors or anything else around it. It is a completely nondescript door in every single way except one. It is the only wooden door in the entire building. There are no markings or words on it of any kind (except for a DO NOT ENTER sign taped below the knob), and no apparent lock.

It is my sole duty to watch that door. I must never open it myself, and I must not allow anyone else to ever open it for any reason. There are two phones here on my desk, one black, one red. Both have a direct-line connection and neither had a dial.

If I observe anyone suspicious, anyone in the vicinity of the door, anyone who looks like they're going to try tampering with it, I have to pick up the black phone and say "Code 66," to whoever is on the other end. I have no fucking idea what "Code 66" is, or who is on the other end of the phone, or even what they're supposed to do if I ever have to say that. (The Foundation kept me in the dark about a lot things, brushed off most of my questions and told me I only had to be informed on a "need-to-know basis.")

As for the red phone, well...

I was told by the dark-suited spook who hired me I only had to ever pick that up in the event that *something* tried to open the door from the other side.

Not some*one*, some*thing*.

And if that ever happens, I only have to say two words to the person on the other end.

So that's what I've done for thirty years. But not for much longer. I'm finally retiring after tonight. The Foundation has already hired my replacement. Honestly, I can't wait to get out of here once and for all. Frankly, this job had always given me the creeps, sitting all alone in this little room in the deserted parking garage after the building closes for the day.

And that door has always made me uneasy. I couldn't tell you why, though, apart from the information I've already shared with you. It looks like an ordinary wooden door in every way.

I think mostly its the two words I'm supposed to say on the red phone in case anything ever opens it from the other side.

Judgement Day.