When Neurology Chief Resident Dr. Zheng Boyuan walked into the demonstration room, Lin Yuan was staring blankly at the EEG topographic map projected on the screen. It was material from the morning's professional development session on new advances in neuroimaging for chronic disorders of consciousness. Colored blocks indicated activity in different brain regions—red and yellow for "possibly preserved," blue and purple for "significantly suppressed or disconnected."
Chen Yu's scan was undoubtedly dominated by vast swathes of cold blue and purple.
"Nurse Lin?" Zheng Boyuan's voice pulled her back to reality. In his early thirties, wearing frameless glasses, he had a more scholarly air than Zhao Qiming and seemed more willing to focus on those "fringe" phenomena. "We talked about the anomalous data for Bed 7 last time."
Lin Yuan snapped back to attention and nodded.
"I later reviewed some de-identified analysis reports from that 'NeuraLink' module," Zheng Boyuan lowered his voice, gesturing for her to move to a quiet spot in the corridor. "It's fascinating, but also... even more perplexing."
He opened his tablet and called up several charts. "Look, this is what the module calculates as the 'Neuro-Environmental Interaction Index.' It synthesizes physiological fluctuations, environmental parameters, and even attempts to correlate them with emotional stress events from the patient's medical history. Bed 7's index isn't the highest among the four observed cases, but its volatility is the greatest, especially at night. Furthermore, the peaks of its volatility seem temporally correlated with some extremely minor, non-random environmental events in the room."
He switched to another chart, a spectral analysis. "This is even stranger. The module analyzed certain ultra-low-frequency oscillatory components in the four patients' EEGs—components usually dismissed as noise. It found that when Bed 7's index shows fluctuations of a specific pattern, the corresponding frequency band oscillations in the other three patients exhibit extremely faint but identifiable 'phase advance' or 'phase lag' changes. It's as if they are... responding to, or being 'entrained' by, a faint rhythm."
Lin Yuan felt her throat go dry. "Like a cardiac pacemaker?"
"No, not that regular or potent. More like... a drop of water falling on one side of a pond, causing a ripple on the other side that's almost invisible. The energy difference spans several orders of magnitude. Theoretically, such coupling across skulls and physical space is impossible. Current neuroscientific models can't explain it." Zheng Boyuan adjusted his glasses. The look behind the lenses held both a researcher's excitement and a trace of unease. "The module's preliminary hypothesis is the existence of some not-yet-understood, extremely low-energy 'neural pheromone' or 'field effect' that, under specific conditions, creates faint resonance between highly vulnerable, similarly compromised nervous systems. Bed 7, perhaps due to relative youth, a special injury pattern, or... because it's receiving a more specific environmental 'stimulus,' has accidentally become a 'pacemaker site.'"
"A pacemaker site..." Lin Yuan repeated the term, a chill creeping down her spine. She recalled the feeling in the rotting garden, where her "statue" seemed to occupy a relatively central position in the array. "Dr. Zheng, what do you think this could mean? For the patient himself?"
Zheng Boyuan paused. "I don't know. It could be completely harmless—meaningless 'collective noise' from neurons in a state of extreme suppression or near death. Or it could..." he chose his words carefully, "...hint at a previously unimaginable, atypical possibility of 'connection' surviving in a state of profoundly regressed consciousness. But even if it's the latter, there's no evidence whether this 'connection' is a chaotic, meaningless echo of suffering, or harbors some... functional danger."
"Danger?"
"Theoretically, if this faint resonance could be systematically modulated or amplified by external factors..." Zheng Boyuan didn't finish the sentence, shaking his head. "That's too sci-fi. At this stage, it's just a bizarre data phenomenon. I've submitted the preliminary analysis to the project's senior leadership, recommending stricter controlled-environment experiments to verify or disprove it. Until then, we stick with routine clinical observation."
He closed his tablet, his tone returning to professional calm. "Nurse Lin, thank you for your keen observation. While these findings are peculiar, they remind us how little we truly understand about disorders of consciousness. Continue recording any subtle changes you notice, but don't over-intervene. Especially, do not attempt to actively provide what you might think are 'stimuli.' We need data from the natural state."
Do not actively stimulate. Lin Yuan thought of her own habit of dimming the lights, a cold realization settling in her h