I’m, like, the Queen of the Pulse. I’m at the heart of the Pulse. Only I know how to use it, really. I am the Pulser. You need a Pulser. Like, an operator. I know how things work.
I’m the Pulse Queen. This is reality for me. This is what’s really real.
This is who I really am. This is where I come to life. I have webbed fingers here. I don’t know why.
It can really fuck up your sense of reality. Or it can show you that reality – what we call reality – is fucked up.
Maybe none of it’s real: Philosophy. O.M. You. Me. Alan. Maybe I never was married …
You can talk to it, but you have to say Pulse first, so that it can hear you.
Hey Pulse-y … surprise us. Show us something really beautiful. I want to see the most beautiful thing you can make. The most beautiful sunset, or whatever. The most beautiful beach scene. The most beautiful meadow. Wow us, Pulse. I want to see your greatest hits.
The Pulse is, like, an alien intelligence. Like it’s trying to learn about us. To communicate with us, even. Like Solaris.
Is the Pulse listening? What does Pulse make of all this?
We’re Pulse Buddies. I’m not sure what that means. It merges our dreams, or something. It’s reading us, scanning us. Making whatever it’s making in response. Dreaming for the both of us.
When they turn the world to shit, there’ll always be the Pulse.
The feel of real, baby. Forget your VR goggles. This is all-encompassing. It means your life won’t suck quite as much. You can go somewhere without going anywhere at all.
There’s a pressure sensitive underlay. Omnidirectional.
The limits of reality are your own imagination, etc. Do anything. Be anyone Go anywhere.
Work in Progress 