“There’s nothing to ‘get’!” my manager Jonah swept his palm against the mahogany reception desk, “It’s right, right, right, right, left!”

I watched him go through the motions for what seemed like the twentieth time. It wasn’t my fault. This wasn’t something I got asked to do every day. In fact, I’d never expected to get asked to do this, period. Especially not on my first day on the job.

“Okay, okay,” I said, taking in a lungful of air and extending my arms to either side, “Right, right, right, right, left. Got it.”

His forehead cleared, “See? Easy peasy! You’ll be running this place by the end of the week!”

The end of the week seemed lightyears away. The newspaper ad had promised a “stress-free” receptionist experience in a small health clinic, but it was only 9 AM and I was already on edge.

Jonah looked to be in his late forties and evidently took pride in his no-nonsense attitude. He was already tapping his foot by the time I’d arrived, even though I was five minutes early, and wasted no time on introductions.

“I have a meeting in ten,” he snapped, pointing me to my seat, “That’s your desk, your login info is on the post-it note. Anything else you might need just ask Sally, she’ll be taking over for the night shift.”

“The night sh-?” I tried to interject, but he cut me off.

“Let me walk you through the basics,” he paused for effect, “As you know, we pride ourselves on our free healthcare, which distinguishes us from the competition and keeps our hands full day and night. Your role may be simple, but it’s a vital one.”

“Okay?” I shifted on my swivel chair as he positioned himself directly in front of the reception desk.

“Now,” he cleared his throat, “Pay attention. You’ll need to master this before the next surge.”

“Sur..?” I began, but he wasn’t listening.

“So, the first thing you do when a patient comes in is check their ID. Free healthcare or not, we need to keep a record of whoever comes through the door. You know the drill.”

He rapped the countertop in a keyboard-like motion to demonstrate. I smiled politely.

“Now, the important part,” he said, extending his arms to the sides, “As you can see, there is a door on each side of the room. For your convenience, they are labeled R and L, which stand for right and left.”

He paused, as if to make sure I was still following.

“The task is simple. You are to send every fifth patient through the left door. You’ll need to keep track of them, okay? One, two, three, four people go right, and the fifth one goes left.”

“But…why?” I heard myself asking. In all my years working as a hospital receptionist I’d never heard a request like this, “What’s behind the left door?”

Jonah scoffed, as if he’d been expecting the question, “Inpatient rooms. Don’t worry about it. All you need to do is count the patients and point to the correct door. Got it?”

“So…” I began, my mouth dry, “But what kind of… How will I know if the patients qualify for the left door? You know, like, if a pregnant woman comes in and the maternity rooms are on the right…”

“Easy,” he snapped, his brow furrowed, “If she’s patient number five, you send her to the left. I don’t care about the circumstances.”

I swallowed.

“Well…er…can I have a tour of the premises, or..?”

Jonah’s head jerked, “You don’t need to worry about the ins and outs of it. You’re a receptionist. We’re paying you good money to do this job. Take it or leave it.”

I took it. I couldn’t even believe I had been lucky enough to get it in the first place. Hospital work had been too taxing and making double while doing a far easier job sounded almost too good to be true.

By the time Jonah had disappeared through the door labeled “R”, the reception area was already flooded with patients.

“I’ve been vomiting since 2 AM,” a man in a blue tracksuit stated, tossing an ID card into my hands, “I need some pills or something.”

He dry-heaved, clutching his throat dramatically while I took down his information.

“Go through the right door,” I said with a smile.

I leaned forward in my seat, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was behind it, but as the man in the tracksuit pulled it open, I was disappointed to discover it was no more than a long white corridor.

I only saw that same corridor the following three times too. There was no sign of the people I’d just sent in, nor were there any benches or a waiting area for patients to sit.

“Good morning,” an elderly man placed his passport onto the countertop, “I've got an ear infection. Started last week. Tried warm compresses and pain medication, but it’s staying put. Is there a doctor I could see for a prescription?”

I stared at him, gnawing at my lip. He was the fifth patient.

“Is everything okay..?” he cocked his head to the side, his eyes blue and watery.

“Er…” I cleared my throat, hurriedly punching in his surname, “It’s the left door, please, sir.”

With bated breath, I watched as he struggled towards it, eventually managing to pry it open.

It was exactly the same.

A white, sterile-looking corridor, no different from the one on the right. No people. No benches. Only bright, fluorescent lights.

Still, I couldn’t help myself from feeling slightly nauseated as the door slammed shut behind him, my heart somersaulting in my chest.

“Next, please,” I croaked, trying my best to distract myself. What was this system for? Why were they singling out these unsuspecting people and more importantly…

A documentary I’d seen a month prior flashed before my eyes. Cruel medical experiments involving… No. I couldn’t allow myself to think about that. I just needed to get through the day and then I’d see. Research this place, ask around. Why on Earth hadn’t I thought to do that the night before? Hell, why hadn’t I done that before applying for the job?

Only now it dawned on me how quickly they had hired me. Had they even checked my qualifications? Did Jonah even know my name? God…

I wanted to bury my face in my hands, but the next patient was already staring me down, a baby in her arms.

“We need a pediatrician,” she wailed, “My son hasn’t slept in three days and I’m exhausted.”

The baby looked hot and uncomfortable, writhing in her arms while I took down their names.

“It’s the door on the right,” I pointed to it, suddenly realizing that I hadn’t considered this scenario. Did that count as two people…or one patient…? And how exactly could I split a child from their parent...? I’d need to ask Jonah whenever I saw him next.

Except I didn’t see Jonah. I didn’t even see my lunch, or a bathroom break. It occurred to me, a little too late, that I hadn’t thought to ask where anything is. Jonah had explained the premise of the job and disappeared, never to be seen again.

I would have considered trying one of the doors, but the queue was unrelenting and I constantly found myself swarmed by people.

By the afternoon, I had sent about one hundred patients through the right door and twenty patients through the left. I recalled each one of them with perfect clarity.

Thomas, the elderly gentleman, Beatrice, the teen girl with the nose ring, Lou, the woman in the tartan dress, Gabriel, the…

“Excuse me?” a small voice rang out, “Can you help me?”

At first, I didn’t realize where the voice was coming from, much less that it was addressing me. My head was reeling from the bright lights and my own unrelenting thoughts.

“Ma’am?” the voice piped up again, and this time a skinny arm appeared from behind the counter.

It was a boy. No older than seven. With brown disheveled hair falling over his forehead and a sling on his left arm.

“I’m here for my x-ray?” he said, holding his arm out for me to see, “Could you show me where to go?”

I looked down at the tally I’d been keeping on my post-it.

One hundred and four.

My blood ran cold. It was there and then that I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do this job. How was I meant to send a child - or any person for that matter - through a mystery door? It felt like a betrayal. A sacrifice. No, I -

“Could you show me where to go?” the boy repeated, disrupting my inner monologue, “My mother is waiting for me in the car.”

“It’s…it’s…” I garbled, trying to compose myself. Thoughts of brutal experiments flooded my mind again. My skin was prickling all over. I needed to do the right thing. I needed to…

“It’s the right door…” I whispered. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could feel a bead of sweat making its way down the small of my back. It didn’t matter if I got into trouble. I couldn’t risk it.

“Okay,” the boy shrugged, making his way towards it. Fighting the golf ball sized lump in my throat, I rushed in front of him to open it, “Thank you.”

I felt better after that. Well, relatively.

You see, I started cheating. There were no surveillance cameras in the reception area so I allowed myself to work at twice the speed, but send twice as few people through the left door.

No one will notice, I told myself over and over, clacking furiously at my keyboard. And this way I got to actually pick the people manually. There was the lady who grumbled about the waiting times, and then the man who thought it was appropriate to smoke inside…

“Who are you?” a voice intercepted my thoughts.

A woman had circled the counter and was standing beside me, casually shifting papers on my desk.

“Hey!” I began, grabbing at them.

“Where’s Penelope?” her gaze was piercing.

“P-Penelope?” I stammered, “I don’t… Who’s Penelope?”

“Oh, God,” the woman slumped down, burying her face in her hands, “Not another one!”

I stared at her, wondering if this was her way of telling me she needed the psych ward.

“Ma’am, if you’d like to see a doctor, I’ll need your ID, please,” I said, watching her shoulders bob up and down in a silent cry.

She shot me an incredulous look, “I’m Sally. Here for the night shift. Penelope was the one… the one before you. I told her not to go snooping. I told her to just do her job. She wouldn’t listen…”

I felt a chill crawling up my spine, “Wh-what happened..?”

But Sally shook her head, “I don’t know. I mean, I certainly have my theories. It’s not the first time this has happened. There was Shirley and Jacob, and now Penelope, oh, it’s the right door, sir!”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man spin on his heel and head toward the right-hand side of the room.

“Please,” my mouth was as dry as a cotton ball, “I need to know.”

Sally slapped the countertop, “Okay, we’re on break, people! Fifteen minutes!”

“Tell me what’s going on,” I said, as soon as she turned away from the reception desk, “What’s behind the left door?”

“Behind the left door? Hell if I know! I haven’t been there and wouldn’t go if they paid me. Ignorance really is bliss, never forget that.”

“But you must know something? How long have you been working here?”

She chuckled, “You know how curiosity killed the cat? Well, that expression really applies here. Once the other receptionists made up their minds to wander down one of the corridors, I never saw them again. Came in to a brand new person the next day.”

“Did…did they get fired..?”

“Fired?” her eyes widened, “Honey, I hope they got fired. All I know is that they never showed up again. Wouldn’t pick up their phones either. Gone! Just like that.”

I shook my head, “Tell me what’s behind the left door. You must know!”

She studied me for a moment with narrowed eyes, “It’s…it’s not the left door you should be worried about.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“It’s not? Then… then…”

“The lucky ones get the left door,” Sally said, her voice hoarse.

“I… I don’t understand…” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

“The left-door people,” she said, grabbing hold of my clammy hands, “I’ve seen them again. They’re registered in the system twice. Some even three times if they’re exceedingly lucky. They make further appointments. They leave us good reviews.”

I swallowed, “...but not the right-door people..?”

She pointed her painted fingernail towards the window, “You see that truck over there? The one the men are loading up? All that comes from the right wing.”

“But that’s…that’s…”

“One of the biggest fast food chains in the city? I know.”

I gaped at her, my stomach churning, “The right door…”

She nodded sorrowfully, “Nothing’s free, sweetheart. The company’s gotta make their money somehow, and…”

But before she could finish her sentence, Jonah stuck his head out the door, a paper bag in his hand, “Hey, ladies, fancy having some lunch?”

I stared at him, and then at Sally, silently shaking her head.