The Circuit Riders

In Short

Set in a future Pittsburgh where police maintain order using the "deAngelis board"—a technology that detects and broadcasts the intensity of human emotions—this story follows a weary precinct team tasked with interpreting the data. It is a taut, atmospheric piece of science fiction that examines the thin line between surveillance and understanding. By grounding its high-concept technology in the mundane realities of office politics, gin games, and the heat of an August afternoon, it offers a timeless look at the burden of predicting human behavior.

The Story

The story unfolds over a long, humid August day at the East Liberty precinct. The atmosphere is thick with the heat of the city and the boredom of a police watch. At the center of the operation is the deAngelis board, which displays colored lights corresponding to the emotional states of nearby citizens. The officers treat the board with a mixture of professional cynicism and intermittent alarm. Most readings—ranging from the mild pink of a lovers' quarrel to the occasional flare of anger—are ignored, as the officers know that human volatility is constant and that the law is often too imprecise to justify intervention.

As the afternoon drags on, the rhythm of the station is defined by the banter of reporters, the boredom of the desk sergeant, and the routine of the deAngelis operators. One operator, Matesic, prides himself on his ability to "read" the board, winking at colleagues as he dismisses minor spikes as mundane irritations. Yet, beneath this veneer of apathy, a subtle shift occurs. King, an operator taking over the evening shift, notices a persistent, low-intensity reading that refuses to fade. It is an anomaly—a steady, jagged, and increasingly bright light that suggests something deeper than a passing temper tantrum.

While the station carries on with its card games and radio dispatches, the narrative cuts to an old, alcoholic man struggling in his squalid room. He is lost in a haze of drink and paranoia, harboring a dark, growing fixation on "the others" who he believes are trying to deceive him. He eventually acquires a hunting knife, his mind fracturing as he prepares to act on his delusions. He is the source of that persistent light on the board.

As the night turns into morning, the operator’s intuition takes hold. King and Matesic track the signal as it slowly intensifies, finally breaking the threshold that demands police action. The Captain, frustrated by political bureaucracy and the difficulty of interpreting the data, authorizes a sweep. The police coordinate their movements, forming a perimeter around the man’s location. The tension peaks as the board hits a critical reading of 94.2.

The story reaches its conclusion when the police scout car descends on the man, who is found sitting on a curb near a school, offering candy to a young girl. The officers handle him with practiced, firm gentleness, taking him into custody before he can reach the weapon in his pocket. The girl, oblivious to the danger, is left with a bag of candy, unaware that she has narrowly escaped a tragedy that the city’s silent, electronic sentinels quietly prevented.

How It Unfolds

The observation begins The officers in the precinct station monitor the deAngelis board, dismissing most emotional signals as the natural, harmless friction of city life. They rely on experience rather than strict adherence to rules, knowing that a machine cannot always distinguish between a potential killer and a frustrated sports fan.

The anomaly emerges An operator identifies a persistent, low-intensity signal that remains on the board for hours, defying the typical pattern of fleeting emotional outbursts. Despite the lack of an immediate threat, he begins to track the light with a growing sense of unease.

The descent into crisis The narrative shifts to the man causing the signal, showing his mental deterioration in a filthy, isolated room. As he drinks and fixates on his perceived enemies, his internal state mirrors the rising intensity of the light on the precinct board.

The intervention The operators realize the signal is no longer a false alarm and alert the Captain, who orchestrates a tactical response. The police track the man through the streets, triangulating his position as his emotional state crosses the threshold of danger.

The final confrontation The police arrive at a schoolyard and apprehend the man just as he attempts to lure a child. The threat is neutralized with cold efficiency, leaving the innocent child behind to enjoy the candy the man had dropped.

The People

King and Matesic are the deAngelis operators, the men tasked with the heavy responsibility of interpreting the board. King is the more intuitive of the two, willing to trust his gut against the grain of official rules, while Matesic acts as the pragmatic veteran. They represent the human element in a technological system, caught between the desire to be precise and the reality that they are dealing with the messy, unpredictable nature of human emotion.

The Old Man is the central, tragic figure. He is an alcoholic living in squalor, spiraling into a mental breakdown characterized by paranoia and a sense of persecution. He wants to "fool" the world that he believes is rotten, and his internal anger manifests as a steady, growing signal on the board. He starts the story as a ghost in the system and ends it as a man being gently led away, his agency entirely stripped by the technology he could not comprehend.

The Captain represents the bridge between the technical work of the operators and the political pressure of the city. He is irritable and cynical, constantly battling the inefficiency of the government while trying to manage a precinct where the "law" is as unstable as the people he polices.

In Its Own Voice

The technology of the board is described as a window into the city's hidden currents:

On the Board, they were just little lights that glowed. But out there in the night of the city-jungle, they represented human passions--virulent emotions--and deadly crimes-to-be ...

The older reporter explains to the cub why the system is as much about human intuition as it is about data:

It's all up to the deAngelis operators. They're the kingpins, they make the system work.

The state of the city’s moral and material condition is revealed:

The city might be clean but there were people who were not, and the room was not.

What It's Really About

The book explores the paradox of a "clean" society that has mastered its environment through technology but remains powerless to sanitize the human mind. The central argument is that while machines can measure the intensity of human emotion, they cannot decipher its meaning without the human touch. It raises difficult questions about the nature of freedom in a surveillance state: if we can predict crime before it happens, at what point does "detention" become an infringement on human dignity? It suggests that in a world where our internal lives are broadcasted, the only truly dangerous people are those who, like the old man, have lost their connection to reality, or those who, like the police, have become coldly efficient at managing the consequences.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate mid-century science fiction will find this a compelling, gritty read. It feels like a precursor to modern stories about algorithmic surveillance, but it lacks the neon flash of modern cyberpunk; instead, it offers a grounded, blue-collar look at a future that feels frighteningly possible. The writing is precise, emphasizing the sensory details of a sweltering Pittsburgh—the humidity, the clatter of a minityper, the taste of cheap beer—which makes the technological elements feel tactile and real.

The book does not shy away from the darker aspects of its era, particularly its depiction of addiction and the casual, cold treatment of mental illness. The old man’s internal monologue is particularly difficult to read, capturing a sense of profound, messy despair that is not easily resolved. It is a lean, efficient story that refuses to provide easy answers about its world, leaving the reader with a lingering sense of disquiet about the "lights on the board." If you enjoy fiction that blends police procedural logic with the existential weight of a changing world, this will stay with you long after the final page. It is a stark, honest piece of work that earns its impact through restraint rather than spectacle.