We have put a man on the moon. We have a remarkable corpus of information on how our own bodies work. Rather than adapting to our environment, we've adapted it to ourselves. Unique among species, humans have conquered their instincts to a great degree. We don't just act, we think. Then, we act. Or we don't.
But when that hidden instinct bubbles up, that's where it gets interesting.
I've heard my heart. Not in the sense that I just went for a grueling run or been sick and heard my pulse thudding in my head. I've heard it, squeaking, noisily passing blood chamber to chamber. I'm not unconvinced that someone else couldn't have heard it just as clearly as I could if they were in same room as me.
That's a triple negative.
I had no idea what I was hearing at first. I thought maybe I was congested, but held my breath for a couple of seconds. Squeak, squeak, squeak. There was just one possibility left.
It was weird. Consciously I wasn't really feeling strong emotion. Defeat, mostly. But on that instinctual level, the flight or fight response was pegged as high as it could be. Unconsciously, I was preparing for an altercation that didn't exist.
What a mess. Luckily, we've invented NyQuil, and instinct's victory was short lived.