A reflection on love, technology, and what resists being solved
We live in a time obsessed with optimization.
We optimize performance, compatibility, response time and efficiency. We measure success in scores, dashboards, rankings, and predictions. Even our most intimate spaces—connection, desire, love—have quietly absorbed this logic.
For decades, I have worked inside these systems. Designing, delivering, and trusting technologies as indispensable tools to reduce uncertainty and help humans make better decisions. I still do. I believe deeply in technology when it is used with intention.
But somewhere along the way, a question began to surface.
What gets lost when connection becomes a score?
That question did not arrive as a thesis.
It arrived as a feeling.
A pause.
A discomfort.
A sense that something essential was being flattened.
I didn’t set out to write a novel.
I set out to sit with that unease.
Writing Between Systems and Silence
The Shared Pulse was written quietly—early mornings, late nights, and in the spaces between responsibilities. It grew alongside my professional life. Some days, I moved between certainty and not knowing, between the comfort of metrics and the openness of unmeasurable possibility.
The story lives between logic and intuition. Between systems that promise clarity and emotions that resist being solved. It follows characters navigating a world where love is increasingly treated as an optimization problem—and where chaos, uncertainty, and presence begin to look less like flaws and more like doorways.
This book is not anti-technology.
It is not nostalgic.
It is not a warning.
It is a mirror.
Why This Story, Why Now
We are extraordinarily good at building tools.
We are less practiced at asking what those tools ask of us in return.
The Shared Pulse explores what happens when efficiency replaces attention, when speed outruns reflection, and when staying becomes harder than moving on. It asks what it means to remain human inside highly optimized lives—where everything functions, yet something feels quietly off.
The novel does not offer solutions.
It offers presence.
It does not teach.
It listens.
Releasing the Book
Releasing a book into the world is an act of trust. Once it leaves the private space where it was written, it enters many different contexts—different cultures, rhythms, interpretations, and lives. I won’t be present for most of those moments. And that is exactly as it should be.
The Shared Pulse is now moving beyond my hands and into other lives, other rooms, other readings. What it becomes from here will be shaped not by intention, but by encounter.
Stories, once released, no longer belong to their writers. They belong to readers—to their memories, questions, resistances, and recognitions. My hope is not that The Shared Pulse convinces anyone of anything, but that it keeps company with those who already feel this tension and haven’t yet found language for it.
This story stayed with me long enough.
Now it’s its turn to mirror itself in the reader.
The book launch on January 30th at 18:30 at Lackawanna Station in Montclair, NJ.
RSVP: https://recroomnj.com/events/the-shared-pulse
More on The Shared Pulse:
https://www.edauzuncakara.com/the-shared-pulse/
Editorial Review: https://reedsy.com/discovery/book/the-shared-pulse-eda-kara#review
Press: https://essexnewsdaily.com/arts/writing-about-where-ai-and-love-meet/
Where to buy: Kindle and paperback at Amazon
Available across all Amazon marketplaces worldwide.
Paperback at Barnes and Noble
and other book platforms
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/245821900-the-shared-pulse
