Alex sat in front of the computer in her home office, with Marcus's Neural Bridge data log displayed on the screen. As the creator of the system, she had access to all user data, including her husband's. This was for research and security purposes, at least that's what she told herself.

The data was presented in the form of complex charts and timelines, recording the usage patterns of the Neural Bridge. Alex's eyes quickly scanned the screen, looking for anomalies. Soon, she discovered a pattern: for the past two weeks, Marcus had been setting his Neural Bridge to complete blocking mode almost every day between 3 and 5 PM. This time period happened to be when she was usually busiest in the laboratory.


"What is he hiding?" Alex whispered to herself, her fingers lightly tapping the desk.

She continued to examine the data, discovering more disturbing patterns. Marcus's Neural Bridge usage time had gradually decreased, from the initial eight hours per day to now less than two hours. More concerning was that he almost never used the advanced features, even when they had mutually agreed to try deeper connections.

Alex leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. She recalled last night's debate, with Chloe's words echoing in her mind: "What happens when one person wants complete transparency while the other needs to maintain some private space?"


Perhaps Chloe was right. Perhaps some boundaries shouldn't be crossed. But another voice whispered in her heart: if Marcus had nothing to hide, why would he block the connection so frequently?

Alex opened another file, which contained the technical specifications of the Neural Bridge. As the chief designer, she understood the system's working principles better than anyone else, including its limitations and potential vulnerabilities. In theory, the Neural Bridge's shielding function was absolute—when one party activated the shield, the other party could not access their thoughts or emotions.


But there existed a feature in the system that she had never disclosed: in extreme cases, administrators could override the shielding function for emergency medical interventions. This "backdoor" was designed for safety purposes, such as when users became trapped in traumatic memory loops and couldn't escape on their own.

Alex's fingers hovered above the keyboard, hesitating. Using this feature to bypass Marcus's shield would be a serious invasion of privacy, violating the ethical principles she herself had established. But if she didn't do it, she might never know what Marcus was hiding, never be able to confirm the true relationship between him and Chloe.

"Just a quick look," she told herself, "just to confirm there's nothing to worry about."

Her fingers began typing on the keyboard but suddenly stopped. No, this was too much. No matter how much she wanted to know the truth, this approach was wrong. She closed the file, stood up, and paced around the room.

There must be another way. Perhaps she should talk to Marcus directly, honestly expressing her concerns and suspicions. But attempts over the past few weeks had ended in failure, with Marcus always avoiding or changing the subject.

Alex picked up her phone and dialed Sophia's number. As the chief neuroscientist of thought linking, Sophia was not just a colleague but also one of her few friends.

"Alex?" Sophia's voice came through the speaker, "Is everything alright?"

"I need to consult about some... theoretical questions," Alex said cautiously, "regarding the Neural Bridge's shielding function."

"Okay," Sophia sounded somewhat confused, "what questions?"

"Theoretically," Alex chose her words carefully, "if a user frequently uses the blocking function, what might that indicate? From a psychological perspective."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment. "This is about Marcus, isn't it?"

Alex sighed. "Yes."

"Alex," Sophia's voice became serious, "we discussed this issue when designing the Neural Bridge. The blocking function exists to protect users' autonomy and privacy. If Marcus chooses to block certain thoughts or feelings, that's his right."

"I know, but..."

"No buts," Sophia said firmly, "This is exactly the concern Chloe raised in the debate—that the Neural Bridge might change our expectations of privacy. Before, our thoughts were naturally private; now, choosing not to share is seen as suspicious."

Alex felt a wave of shame. Sophia was right, but that didn't lessen her doubts and uneasiness.

"If you're worried that Marcus is concealing something," Sophia continued, "the only ethical solution is to talk to him directly. Any technological approach would undermine the foundation of trust."

After the call ended, Alex felt even more confused and conflicted. Sophia's advice was correct, but seemed impractical. She and Marcus had already tried talking, but each attempt ended with an even greater distance between them.

She returned to her computer and opened Marcus's data logs again. Besides the use of blocking mode, there was another anomaly: during specific time periods, the brainwave patterns recorded by the Neural Bridge showed intense emotional fluctuations, typically associated with memories or powerful emotional experiences. These time periods corresponded exactly with when Marcus claimed to be working alone in his studio.

Alex closed the file, feeling a wave of nausea. She shouldn't be prying into Marcus's data like this; it violated her own principles. But knowledge is like Pandora's box—once opened, it cannot be sealed again.

She stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the city landscape outside. Night had fallen, and countless lights illuminated the skyline. Behind those lights, how many people were using the Neural Bridge? How many had discovered more or less than they expected?

Alex recalled a couple among the first batch of testers who applied for divorce after using the Neural Bridge for three months. At the time, she viewed it as an anomaly, believing the couple had pre-existing issues. But now, she couldn't help wondering: did the Neural Bridge reveal truths that should have remained hidden?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Marcus had returned, two hours earlier than expected. Alex quickly closed her computer and walked out of the office.

"Hey," she said, trying to keep her tone casual, "you're home early today."

Marcus nodded, looking tired and preoccupied. "The project finished ahead of schedule."

Alex noticed his Neural Bridge Controller was again set to the lowest level. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm just tired," Marcus answered, avoiding her gaze, "I think I need to rest for a while."

He walked toward the bedroom, leaving Alex standing in the hallway, feeling more certain that something wasn't right. Her fingers unconsciously touched the Neural Bridge Controller at the back of her neck, a decision forming in her mind.

If Marcus was unwilling to share the truth, she would have to find the answers herself. Whatever the consequences.