Circuit marks a departure from the usual fare but I’d argue it’s contemporary horror at its most unsettling. No ghosts or monsters here, but the protagonist’s epiphany does reveals something rather terrifying: the possibility that our best intentions might be making everything worse. His realisation forces us to confront an uncomfortable question: are we solving the problem, or just making it easier to ignore? Frightening stories make us look differently at our own reflections in the window.
Circuit
Dave had installed panels on dozens of houses. Terraced homes where every kilowatt mattered. Bungalows where pensioners watched their meters like hawks. This job was different. The house sprawled across its plot, all glass and angles, a garage built for three cars he’d never seen.
“I’m so excited about going completely green,” Mrs Hamilton called up from the garden, her voice bright against the morning air. “My carbon footprint will be practically zero!”
Dave secured another panel to the mounting rail. Through the glass roof below, he could see the kitchen: double ovens, wine fridge, an island bigger than his entire flat. The heated driveway gleamed wetly in the October sun.
“Will thirty-six panels be enough?” she asked when he climbed down for lunch. “I’m planning some upgrades. Electric car charging point, obviously. And we’re putting in a hot tub—properly insulated, very efficient. Plus the outdoor kitchen for summer entertaining.”
“Should cover it,” Dave said, though his calculator suggested otherwise.
From the roof that afternoon, other installations caught the light across the suburb. Panels glinted from every second house like scales on some vast creature’s back. The Hendersons’ array, installed last month alongside their pool heating system. The Patels’ setup, doubled when they’d extended into the loft. Solar everywhere, feeding an endless appetite for more.
Dave stepped back to check the alignment and felt something shift in his perspective. The houses below arranged themselves into neat grids, each rooftop installation gleaming like circuitry. Connection points. Processing units in something larger, more systematic.
“Dave!” Mrs Hamilton’s voice drifted up. “Quick question about adding more panels next year. For the sauna we’re considering.”
The words completed something in his mind. He heard the smile in her voice. He looked out over the neighbourhood again, seeing it clearly now: not houses going green, but machines being upgraded. Better wiring for bigger appetites. Every installation he’d completed had fed a bigger appetite.
The relieved faces of homeowners flashed through his memory. Solar panels had become permission slips. Justification for the second freezer, the outdoor heaters, the electric everything.
Mrs Hamilton appeared in the garden below, phone pressed to her ear. “Absolutely, we can increase capacity,” she was saying to someone. “The installer says we can add more panels easily.”
Dave turned back to his work, hands moving automatically while his mind reeled. Below him, the machine hummed with quiet satisfaction, photons converting to permission, sunlight to absolution.
The last panel snapped into place as another circuit was completed.
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