A. E. Shaw
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Aiden's spent his entire life confined to a windowless castle, convinced he’s the centre and purpose of the entire universe. When the castle burns down, casting Aiden and his companions, Selina and Alej, into an unknown world, Aiden can’t wait to discover what wonders await. He's in for one disappointment after another. How will he survive his appalling legacy?
Selina knows what used to lie outside the castle, at the bottom of the mountain. Her greatest fear is that it's still there, just as it was. But she'll discover something much worse...
Alej just wants to work. With his tools gone, what's the point of him, out in an apparently barren world?
The Pulse is a pacey, snaking journey of a dystopian YA novel, following three very different 19-year-olds newly cast into a barely-inhabited landscape, about which only one of them knows anything at all - but even her knowledge is long out of date. Each has much to learn about who they are, and why...and as the truths of this world unfold, there are choices only they can make...
betrayal of all you gave them.” Because, as we must never forget, everything is about Aiden, all the time. It isn’t the loss of the people for their own sake, it’s the loss of the audience for his. And yet, does it matter why Aiden rejects this world, this inheritance? As long as he does so at all, then does it not mean that something about him has been built correctly? Or…are we now dealing with a nation in which the idea of what is correct has been skewed so far that it will take a
what happens, boy, when you don’t listen) “but you must listen this time, or else leave my little home.” Aiden makes himself laugh a little, because that must be a joke, of course, to throw him out of anywhere in his own land, imagine. You ought always to laugh at jokes, for that is the polite thing to do; not to leaves you open to punishment. He nods, indicating he’s ready for whatever offering Jere has, hoping to learn something new, or at least to hear a good story. Before he speaks,
all like this. For more than some time he stands under the water, turning and leaning and smiling, so infinitely grateful for the kindness of its touch. Finally he reaches the other side of the water (because there is another side, at which the water is no longer flowing, and everything is marble and gold and there is a vast, sunken area which foams with something that smells sweet, unusual, and looks nothing like any bath he’s ever seen). More doors close, and the shower he walked through is
leaning his full height across the table. He takes up a utensil that looks like a poker, stabs it through three slices of meat, and hoists them, dripping, across to land with a splat on the platter that sits before Aiden. A spot of bloody juice flicks onto Aiden’s shirt, wrecking its perfect cleanliness. Aiden looks up, accusingly, at his father, who completely ignores him, instead serving himself a grand helping of meat. “Have you no apology for me?” His Excellency continues. “Will you make
that weren’t brick and sand and mud and flesh, that her thoughts are flashes of recollection, clear, but, almost, too clear. And so they walk closer, and Eliza keeps looking at Selina like any minute she’ll have a recollection and a plan; any kind of information that will make this make sense. As they approach the wall that surrounds the buildings, Eliza half-expects a Pulse to come, certainly she expects something to come, and she draws her clothing tight about her, fastens her helmet