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    Elektrograd: Rusted Blood
    Elektrograd: Rusted Blood
    Elektrograd: Rusted Blood
    Ebook47 pages44 minutes

    Elektrograd: Rusted Blood

    By Warren Ellis

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    About this ebook

    ELEKTROGRAD is the city of the future. Since the early 20th Century, it has been used as a testbed for futuristic modes of living. Each of its seven districts is an experimental site for new forms of architecture.

    It is now the early 21st Century. Elektrograd is showing its age.

    Mekanoplatz is the northernmost district of Elektrograd. And, on the district border, within site of the old construction robots with homeless people sheltering in their rusting carcasses, under the green flingers reaching their tentacles to the edge of space, and in the shadow of the hall where the shape of the future was first revealed in sparks and fire, there is a dead body.

    ELEKTROGRAD: RUSTED BLOOD is a murder mystery in a strange dream of a city, from the NYT-bestselling author of the crime novel GUN MACHINE and the graphic novels TRANSMETROPOLITAN, PLANETARY and RED.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWarren Ellis
    Release dateAug 12, 2015
    ISBN9781310387890
    Elektrograd: Rusted Blood
    Author

    Warren Ellis

    Warren Ellis is a graphic novelist, writer, public speaker and author of the bestselling novel Gun Machine (Mulholland, 2014). He contributed the foreword to Penny Red (Pluto, 2011).

    Read more from Warren Ellis

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      Book preview

      Elektrograd - Warren Ellis

      MINOR GLOSSARY:

      TELEFON: a landline telephone: big black 1950’s-style machine, pushbutton, with a small black and white screen bolted on to the side. Landlines are six numbers (66-6666).

      MOBIL: Chunky candy bar-style mobile phones with a cylindrical bar down the side. The bar can be pulled out horizontally, to drag out, in scroll-fashion, a soft plastic computer touchscreen. Mobils are eight numbers (8888-8888).

      TELECHARGE: downloads/uploads to/from mobils.

      MOLOTOK: Elektrograd police-issue sidearm, based on the old Dardick pistol. Notable for its odd shape and its unusual long triangular shells.

      ELEKTROGRAD is the city of the future.

      Since the early 20th Century, it has been used as a test bed for futuristic modes of living. Each of its seven districts is an experimental site for new forms of architecture.

      It is now the early 21st Century. Elektrograd is showing its age.

      MEKANOPLATZ is the northernmost district of Elektrograd.

      ELEKTROGRAD

      The snow in Mekanoplatz comes sudden and heavy, and stays until spring. It drapes across the district’s great grey apartment blocks, settling on every sill. Fifty floors high, they’ve stood here for half a century by the sides of their motorways, ringed by Zen gardens of access roads and pavements traced in the gravel of the waste grounds they were sited in.

      On the edge where the residential area met old Mekanoplatz, where the brick buildings still stood, a brief cloud of snow powder drifted from the top of an apartment block. A few old lamps along its height flickered into amber life.

      The apartment block shook. Slivers of ice cracked off its windows, revealing, if you were a bird, the empty, unheated rooms. The whole edifice was empty.

      Low down on the side of the building, a thick panel the size of a house slowly ground open, striking sparks off its frame. Within a moment, three others, all by each corner of the structure, also bumped on to their tracks and retracted upwards, revealing rusted mechanical workings and rotating metal claddings. Pistons breathed and heaved.

      Vast mechanical arms birthed from the hatches, stretching and flexing in the cold air, bringing twelve-wheeled paws down to the ground, each wheel twenty feet high and as thick as a truck.

      The wheels touched the road and compressed just a little, taking up pressure. The hydraulic suspensions moaned. From a distance, the building looks like nothing so much as someone about to commence a press-up.

      There was a small shudder, enough to kick out flurries of snow and to send birds flying out of eaves. The hydraulics cycled through their waking sequence, dust blasting out between gaps in the frames and sleeves.

      The block lifted itself off the ground.

      It held and shuddered for a moment, just clear of the girder-sized pins that jutted out of the shallow foundation, revealing the umbilical orchard of cable bunches, pipes and tubes that connected the building to the utility grid. The building was plugged into Mekanoplatz.

      There was a crest of pyrotechnic sparks, and a great cough of steam, and the umbilicals detached from the underside of the building, falling back into the foundation.

      Free of its final pinions, the building flexed its arms and stood all the way up. And, shaking the last of the snow from its shoulders, it began to move, rolling out to the wide road before it.

      Behind it,

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