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Pulse - Blog Posts
About the pulse room on Inside
I have the theory that this pulse was a first attempt at controlling gravity that failed horribly creating that deadly pulse.
I say this because the pole machines on the pulse room’s background are similar to the pole machines that are keeping the people and the water on the room that appears later on in the game.
I hear the beating of the hearts around me, Sweet is the vital pulse that gives us breath.
Words run through my veins
like a river
through my heart,
the pulse of life -
blue, purple, and green -
nourishing
my soul and my being
Prismatic memories
ebb in silence
Shimmering hope
flows through my dreams
The day I learnt how to check my pulse, I felt like I was holding my life in my own hand. It took me a long time to find that accurate spot, but once I did, I just couldn't understand how people refrained from checking their pulse all the time. It was evidence that I was alive, that no matter how I felt inside, my body was alive, that it was kicking, and it felt nothing short of a miracle. There seemed to be a certain kind of beauty in having the ability to feel my own heartbeat, in having a part of my heart extending to my wrist - so much so that it took my breath away, made it skip a beat.
I think I understand it better now - why people advise us against wearing our heart on our sleeve. When that very heart on our sleeve is an indication of our existence; when that very heart on our sleeve is the indication of whether we are living; when that pulse we feel is proof of survival - baring that to danger, to vulnerability, to scrutiny, may very well be an invitation to pain, to death. It is a direct route to our softest spot, an easy access to our precious safe. Who in their right mind would make themselves defenceless to threat of exposure?
After all, Achilles never went around flaunting his heel.