The Hope Store

by Dwight Okita

  Google is the suicidal gal's best friend.

  I do a search under "bathtub electrocution" because it sounds quick. You just lie in a tub of warm water and lowering a boom box playing pretty music into the tub. Electrocution would be instant and affordable.

  There's an article online from the UK where they look at 41 cases of death by bathtub electrocution in the previous year. The details are fascinating. 19 are men. 22 are women. The average age is fifty-one. 38 victims are in tubs filled with water. Interestingly, some are in bathtubs without water. Hmm. Electrical devices used: hair dryers, stereos, electric heaters, table lamps, electric fans. (One determined person used no less than THREE hair dryers!) I like the idea of using a boom box because it can play nice music too. Six deaths are deemed accidental.

  Most victims are not dressed, though one victim is fully dressed in a tuxedo. I would rather not be found nude. Some of the bodies have a "cutaneous electric mark." That is a pale line around the body caused by the electricity corresponding to the water level in the tub at the time of death.

  Only 11 out of 41 leave suicide notes letters. Most do not. Fascinating. Am I morbid? Okay, then I'm morbid.

  I cut and paste this article into a Word document, tuck it away in a secret folder for a rainy day.

  Lastly, I have written a final letter to Otis Franklin, my partner of many years. On the outside of the envelope is a note that the letter is to be read after my death.

  LUKE

  32. WHEN YOU BELIEVED

  Sometimes I get so caught up with Jada’s case that I forget about all the amazing success stories we’ve had already here at the store. Maybe it’s because Jada was my first customer, or because she was our first Super Responder client. She became a symbol for people. Installing hope in her was like turning on a light switch. And then the dreaded side effects came. At The Hope Store, we measure success by three criteria.

  1. ANECDOTAL PROOF -- Do the clients tell us they feel more hopeful? How do the clients feel about their goals, the future? Do they feel more empowered and excited about them? What changes are noticed by their peers?

  2. BEHAVIORAL PROOF -- What new actions are the clients able to take in pursuit of their goals? Do they take concrete steps toward making their goals come true? Do the clients find they are able to take actions that they haven't been able to take in the past?

  3. SCIENTIFIC PROOF -- An fMRI is done to monitor any changes in dopamine levels. This confirms that new channels to receive dopamine have been opened up in the brain, as a result of the intended brain confusion. The clients receive color print-outs of their before and after brain scans.

  There is the case of Dora, a fussy, middle-aged woman in middle management. Her inability to hope created a kind of glass ceiling all its own that had nothing to do with gender or age. It was self-imposed. She supervised an accounting department for a major music label, but secretly wanted to be a recording artist herself. Years of therapy didn't help. She was hopeless, not merely depressed, and there was no medication for that. And then Dora came to The Hope Store and everything changed. After her installation, her brain started to process hope differently. She pictured herself stepping away from her desk at work, away from her fax machine and her Blackberry. She pictured herself stepping closer and closer to a live microphone under a bright spotlight…opening her mouth…and singing.

  She hasn't quit her day job, but she's gone part-time and she's hard at work on her first demo in a recording studio. She's hopeful.

  There are cases of people who've isolated themselves socially because of their condition, people who wanted love but had no faith in their ability to achieve it. All these people reported a surge in hope levels that enabled them to move closer toward their goals.

  To be fair, we have had dissatisfied customers too. Some people reported no change in their hope levels -- anecdotally or behaviorally. Then we'd do a brain scan to check for scientific evidence of improvement. Sometimes there'd be a marked increase in dopamine levels, but the customer could not perceive it.

  And many times people came to the store with warped ideas about what hope was. They thought that The Hope Store would cause all their dreams to come true. We have never made such a guarantee. Hope awakens one's courage and passion to pursue their dreams, but ultimately it's up to the person to do the work. Hope is the engine, but you are still driving the car. It is your foot on the accelerator.

  Overall business has been very good. Clients who have good hope responses tend to tell their peers which results in referrals. As always, the things that people hope for are diverse. Here are a few of the hopes of our current clients: win the lottery, washboard abs, save our home from foreclosure, have a healthy baby, build a wall, build a bridge, make my malignant tumor turn benign, get a green card, talk to the dead, make contact with aliens, and so on.

  We don't judge. That's not our job.

  An article appears in Chicago magazine. "It's neither a puff piece nor a hatchet job,” I say to Kazu.” It talks about The Hope Store in a way that is surprisingly balanced.” Kazu looks on as I read part of it aloud:

  "The Hope Store, Revisited"

  by Blair Matters

  Special to Chicago Magazine

  The Hope Store has been open for a month now. I thought I'd stop by and see how business is going. There have been protestors against artificial hope since day one. The passion of the naysayers is matched only by the passion of the store's advocates.

  What is the difference between hope and hype? In the case of The Hope Store which claims to install new hope in the hope-challenged – not a whole lot. Nestled in the heart of trendy Andersonville, one of Chicago's more bohemian neighborhoods, this shop is in the perfect location for the boomer crowd that frequents this hood.

  I recently camped out in the lobby of the store so that I could speak candidly with customers, past and present, disgruntled and hopeful. The annual procedure costs $1,000 but they're offering an introductory special of $750 for now. The procedure is not currently covered by insurance. It's pricey to be sure, and not easily afforded by the unemployed and the poor.

  The "hope installation" is a process which combines a powerful magnetic field and a slow-falling, metallic confetti-like substance. The neurological effect of this? It essentially tricks the brain into manufacturing more dopamine. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter sometimes referred to as "the chemical of anticipation" as it is released right before hope is experienced.

  Said one unhopeful customer: "You shell out all the money but you get nothing tangible in return. I felt some glimmers of something, but nothing worth that kind of money. I thought once I got my dose of hope, I'd get everything I hoped for. That has not been the case for me. I am very disappointed."

  Said one hope-filled customer: "Frankly, I thought $750 was cheap. That's barely ten hours with a shrink, and you know how little happens in ten hours with a shrink! For me, the treatment activated all the affirming voices in my head, and I was able to hear for the first time the true voice of my own hope. I felt like a slave who's been unshackled. I've recommended the store to my friends and they're all having terrific results."

  Said Kazu Mori, the developer of the hope installation process: "We see people transformed before our eyes at The Hope Store. It's not just that their thinking changes; their lives change. How much of that is placebo effect vs. the effect of the hope installation? Hard to say. But as long as the customer is living more dynamically, does it matter? Our rational minds tell us there needs to be a black-and-white answer, but our souls don't really care. Our souls just want joy, hope, more love. Even if we can't rationally explain to ourselves how we got there. We don't just instill hope at The Hope Store. We install it. And to do that we tap into three different worlds: the world of biotechnology, the world of pure faith, and the world of our own unshakable happiness.

  Biotechnology as I understand it acknowledges there is no separation between body and mind. None whatsoever. When I refer to the world of faith, I don't mean
religion. I mean the true faith you had as a child when you believed in the possibility of everything. When you believed in yourself."

  I send a copy of the article to my printer. Kazu looks at me expectantly. "I knew there was a reason why I married you.” At just that moment, an email appears in my in box.

  It’s from Blair Matters.

  Blair sits across the table from us at Starbucks. "I know somebody who knows somebody who used to work at CNN," he says. "That person passed along my message that CNN’s coverage of the hope installation phenomenon had been stellar, but that the subject of modern hope was so big and so important, it cried out for a town hall meeting. I told them I would love to moderate such an event. To my surprise, they emailed me back. They already had a town hall on hope in the works, but their guy Andrew Konstant was slated to moderate. They agreed to let me sit on a panel with you folks. Would you be up for that?"

  "Wow, a town hall meeting? That sounds major," says Luke.

  “What’s the catch?” Kazu says.

  Blair smiles. “No catch. Just show up and answer a few questions. You get tons of free advertising on a high profile media event. What’s not to like? It’ll be a great chance to respond to the concerns of the Natural Hopers and find a common ground. Just have all your hope ducks in a row.”

  “Indeed,” I say. I picture that row of ducks, and one duck falls over.

  LUKE

  33. LOVERS & LAWYERS

  Kazu and I are going out to meet friends for a movie and dinner. It will be a much-needed break from the store. We are getting dressed and ready to go. He pulls on jeans and a blue thermal shirt. I pull on my brown corduroys and a gray sweatshirt that says "Obey" on the front.

  "Don’t get me wrong, Kazu, I think the town hall is a fantastic opportunity. But I also don’t trust Blair. There’s no telling what questions might come up," I say.

  Kazu pulls on a black cardigan. "He's a loose cannon."

  "Kazu, have you ever wondered who the Natural Hopers really are?"

  "They're tree-huggers who still churn their own butter," he says. "Very anti-science. They're probably vegan too."

  "But if they're just a grassroots group, how the heck do they afford to do fancy TV spots and the fancy brochures?" I step into my slip ons and walk to my computer. "Check this video out."

  On-screen is the image of a baby spinning gently through space.

  The voiceover says: "You were born perfect with the ability to hope. And there are natural things that you can do to keep that hope alive." There is a stream of images that accompany the voiceover:

  "Did you know physical exercise like running can increase your endorphins, a substance released in the brain resulting in a greater feeling of hopefulness? Did you know that the flower essence from the Gorse bush can revive hope in a person who has lost it? Did you know that cognitive therapy has transformed the psychotherapy world by allowing the individual to master his own mind, instead of his mind mastering him?"

  Onscreen is an image of our store.

  "There's a new store in town called The Hope Store that claims to install hope in the hopeless, but their procedures are still too new and invasive to be considered safe. It's $1,000 a year for treatment and no insurances currently cover it. Manage your hope supply naturally. Visit us at NaturalHopers.com to learn more about natural ways to restore your hope levels. Paid for by Natural Hopers United."

  "Wow," when did they start running those? "Kazu asks.'

  "Today. I did some digging," I say. "The Natural Hopers are funded by some big for-profits. This may come in handy at the town hall meeting." I also was curious what dirt they might dig up on us. I looked at articles about our clinical trials. It said that one trial subject committed suicide. Is that true?”

  Kazu hesitates as if unsure how to respond. "Well, and please don’t be offended by this, but…you're not a scientist."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Within the scientific community, there is an understanding of how to interpret data, and how to research what we call outliers in a clinical trial. An outlier is a negative result that lies outside the norm, and so must be investigated." Kazu rubs his hand across his mouth as if trying to make the words easier to say.

  "So to you a volunteer's death is just an outlying piece of data? Wow," I can say. "Wow, wow."

  "I didn't say that --"

  At some point during this argument, it occurs to me that our relationship, our business...might not survive this night. Kazu continues to defend his decision. "It's not just that I was afraid what the FDA would do. It's that the whole procedure...this beautiful, amazing opportunity...would be in jeopardy. Do you know how important a procedure this is? A scientist could wait their whole lifetime and never find something this big."

  "There's a process in place. Why not trust it?" I ask.

  "I can explain my thinking," Kazu says." But I'm not sure you'll understand."

  "Try me." We lock the door and head for the car.

  "As the sponsor of the clinical trial, The Hope Store is responsible for collecting outlier data for site investigators -- negative reactions, side effects, etc," he says. "But ultimately it's up to the sponsor's judgment as to whether these adverse events are reported as being related to the study treatment or not. We can allow for a certain amount of…fluctuation from the norm. Is it a conflict of interest? One could make that argument. But the FDA has ultimate oversight."

  I'm scratching my head at this point. "So who decided on behalf of The Hope Store that the volunteer death should not be reported?"

  "The fatality was reported. It was documented in the footnotes," he says. "And we do list suicidal impulses as a possible side effect."

  I look at Kazu. “And who exactly made this final decision? Can't you just give me a straight answer?”

  "The decision of how to interpret this data was made with input from our board," he says.

  I take a breath because I need one. Then I say, "Well since we're clearing the air for the new year, I might as well share a secret of mine." Kazu looks up. "When I first came to LiveWell, I was part of the clinicals. I realized at one point that I wasn't having a big response to my installation."

  "What are you talking about?" Kazu says. "You were one of the first Super Responders."

  "Right. Well, what I wanted to tell you is that I faked my great response.”

  He looks up from his gadget. I have gotten his full attention, whether I want it or not.

  “Because I wanted to stay part of the study, part of your life. I was afraid of losing you. So I pretended to be a Super Responder." I search Kazu's face for a reaction, but there is none forthcoming. "I imitated their physical behaviors, used words to describe my response that I’d heard Super Responders use. But now the store is open and I’m working with clients. They want me to talk about my own hope transformation – so I have to lie again. But I can't do it anymore."

  Once again, I study Kazu's face. It is an inscrutable face.

  "Say something," I say.

  "You falsified trial data?" says Kazu.

  "I know. I'm sorry. I did a terrible thing." Kazu stops talking. For a long time. We have dinner, watch the movie with friends. We drive home in silence.

  When we get home, we silently get ready for bed. Like mimes.

  On this cold winter night, I am the first one under the covers; Kazu strolls to bed with Kindle in hand. Neither of us speaks. I hate this feeling. We are acting like children.

  "I guess we're not talking to each other," I say.

  Kazu continues to read his e-book.

  "That might work out better anyway,” I say picking up my iPad. “That way I can play Angry Birds and I won’t have to listen to you babble about science all night."

  Kazu does not look up once from his e-book device.

  "Besides, we're both on Facebook," I continue. "If we have something really important to say, we can always private message each other." Surely he will crack a smile at that. I’m hoping for that smile. No
thing. Damn him.

  Finally, Kazu cannot restrain himself any longer. "I do not babble."

  "That's funny," I say. "I thought I heard a human voice in this empty bedroom. But how could that be? That breaks the laws of ordinary physics." But Kazu does not speak again. Sleep does not come easily

  In the middle of the night, I can hear Kazu leave the bed. He goes into the living room to do some of his Buddhist chanting, very quietly.

  The next morning when I wake up, I’m tempted to say good morning to Kazu. Then I remember we’re not talking to each other. As I stir in bed, I can tell Kazu is also waking up. He stretches and yawns. Then he turns to face me. His face is open, smiling.

  "For you information, I'm not mad at you,” he says.

  “You’re not?”

  “But I was. Goddammit, Luke, you falsified data for my study!” he shouts like a volcano that has just erupted. “How am I ever supposed to trust you again?”

  “I did it because I didn't want to lose you. Are you hearing that part?”

  “I hear it. But goddammit, Luke, you could’ve screwed up my FDA approval. Did that ever occur to you?” I’m nodding even before he finishes. I’m just glad Kazu is talking again. “Even worse, you could have prevented an amazing scientific breakthrough from reaching the people who need it the most.”

  “I thought if I was an Average Responder, I'd never see you again." I am getting emotional. I find my eyes watering. I wipe away some moisture from one eye. "It was stupid and I’m sorry.”