He walked through the door into his kingdom.
The abandoned hospital was ideal for his purposes.
In the jugs on each wall swam what remained of his patients.
He was working here since 1924 and he had made sure of that. He had his way to stay young and he knew people how can pay to do the same.
He walked through the next door. Giant tanks stood in 4 lines in the hall.
He knew what was in them. What remained of his failures was in there. He had something for fast rotating blades cutting down evidence. He crossed the hall, went left to the elevator how looked as out of place in the building like a solid gold tooth in the mouth of a beggar.
1th floor holding cells. He had quite the assortment of donors, some captured from the street some breed in captivatey. He grow them like plants and they loved him like there gardener.
Mostly because most of there brains ware replaced with mobile phones. Almost like telepathy, the only hook that non of them had any motivation to use it for more than entertainment.
It was hard before the automation in 1951. He had needed help to run the facility before, the insurgency had helped him out during that time. They were all gone. Into the tanks.
2th floor. He stepped out of the elevator into a hall filed with tanks and tubes. The women how swam in the tanks ware in a coma some of them only alive because his care. But having constant access to incubators was necessary to keep his population always stocked.
He had experimented with hormones and chemical cocktails for some time and reached the top.
From planting to harvesting only 6 months, one in the incubator, 5 in the isolation cells and 2 hours under the knife. The only problem was that the parts ware reaching un-useability in 3 years. But he had a solution for that.
He went through the hall of the incubators and entered his office. The clean white room was a harsh contrast to the hospital, but fitted the elevator.
On the back wall was a single pipe filled with blue liquid.
He took out his personal syringe, filled it up with the liquid and injected it into his arm.
The insurgency had given him something great.
He feed his failures and plants to there kind and they gave him what he kneaded to heal his spare parts. With there blood his parts could last up to ten years longer, with just one injection a day.
He went back to the elevator. Normally the whole facility was run automaticly and there ware no more patients scadueled for today, so he could go home now. In the elevator he paused his finger offer the button to the ground floor. For his shot he would not have come here. He had simply used some of the stuff at home, no he was here for something else.
He pushed the button fore the basement. He knew they ware still there but he needed to see it.
As the door opened he saw what he needed to see. The piles of old meat he once was. Dozens of his old bodies hanging on tubs being force feed with the failures of his work.
All of them blind from being keeped in the dark for years.
He knew he would end here.
A blood donor for live will his new self walked the earth.
It was his body that could produce the blood he needed.
How many parts do you need to replace of the original to have the same thing twice?
He knew the question was wrong.
They all ware him, but old and broken.
The only him that existed was the one able to walk.
“That's right old man. Your time is up.”
Than he got knocked out.
As his vision faded he saw the new body, man, that thing looked good.
He had not realized that he had worked for 9 and a half years, seams that he really was getting old.
He accepted the hell he would wake up in, knowing that that guy would also share this fate.