It’s the hardest thing in the world to let go of hope,” Dr. Martin said, studying the readout. “It’s bound up in the human heart.”

Jacob only stared, filling the room with his idiocy like a fart in an elevator.

“Not bound by ventricles and vessels, of course,” Dr. Martin continued, wagging his head. “No, no. Hope is bound by dreams.” He twirled his finger in the air, drawing attention to it as if he were about to say something profound. “Hopes and dreams!”

Jacob sat on the lab toolbox, declining the padded chair. He wiped his open mouth with his wrist. For all his stupidity, Jacob made up for it with loyalty. Dr. Martin knew Jacob would never leave. Jacob would never trade their working relationship for someone younger, stronger, or richer. Jacob wasn’t like Anna. He was faithful, committed, happy just to be together, to do whatever was asked of him.

“Animals dream, you see,” Dr. Martin said, adjusting his spectacles, “But they aren’t attached to their dreams. Once they wake up, they forget all about it.” Dr. Martin scratched his nose. “They do not experience such a thing as hope.”

Jacob nodded, the usual sign of him acknowledging spoken words, but Dr. Martin knew he comprehended little. “Hope can destroy people,” the doctor said. Jacob tilted his chin toward the ceiling, but remained silent. “Funny, since only people can create it.”

Jacob yawned wide, revealing neglected teeth and red gums. He scratched his unkempt hair.

“The presence of the hope trait,” Dr. Martin continued, “is of course related to a lower fractional amplitude of low-frequency fluctuation values in the bilateral medial orbitofrontal cortex.”

Jacob stayed squatted on the toolbox, scratching at the lid as ignorant as a mosquito attempting to suck blood from a stone.

Dr. Martin moved closer to the medical table and examined the sleeping patient. “Hit the switch,” he said, motioning Jacob’s direction, but keeping his eyes firmly on his patient. “It’s time to revive her hopes,” the doctor whispered, stroking the patient’s cheek.

Jacob leaped from the toolbox and lumbered toward the power switch on the wall, his wrists almost dragging the floor.

The dark-haired woman lay motionless on the steel table, a cranial mount affixed to her skull, wires snaking from her head into a wall of computer consoles.

“Oh, Anna,” Dr. Martin said, “You killed my hope.” His lips curved upward. “But I will fix that, my dear.”

Jacob flipped the switch, and the lights on the cranial mount flickered to life. Jacob jumped up and down and clapped his hands together.

“Quiet, now,” Dr. Martin said.

Anna’s eyes darted under the lids, matching the rhythm of the pulsing lights. Dr. Martin scurried to the console and studied the scrolling numbers.

Ever since she’d come back, he’d planned this. By hacking her ocular implant, he’d gathered everything he needed. He’d never suspected that she cheated on every ‘boy toy,’ as she called them. Todd, David, Jesse—on and on — he logged every one of them that mistreated her, each one who had used her. The emotional charges in her limbic system were higher than he could have imagined. They had to be, he supposed, in order for her to deal with that level of rejection, that level of pain. That made his next move so easy, he almost felt guilty.

Almost.

With a click of a button, Dr. Martin erased her limbic responses. Then, he flatlined the values in her bilateral medial orbitofrontal cortex, skyrocketing hope and killing any sense of self-preservation.

“Hope floats,” he snickered. “And self-esteem…” he clicked another button, “…sinks!”

Jacob leaped in the air and spun around.

Dr. Martin tapped a few keys, and the lights faded. He removed the cranial mount from Anna’s head and injected a syringe into her arm.

Anna sat up and draped her legs over the side of the table. “Robert? What are we doing here?” Jacob clapped his hands again. It startled her. “Is that your cute, little chimp?”

Dr. Martin swiveled his head, looked into Jacob’s chimpanzee eyes, and smiled.

“I’m sorry, was I rude?” Anna asked.

“Not at all,” Dr. Martin replied.

Anna stood. “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

“No, Anna. You may go now.” Dr. Martin tucked his hands behind his back and bowed slightly.

Without another question, Anna left the room. In a few minutes, her newly-adjusted brain would compel her to return to a host of abusive relationships. She’d willingly endure harsh mistreatment day after endless day — always wishing those she served would love and appreciate her — but never attaining their approval. It would be the most miserable type of slavery. So miserable it nearly saddened Dr. Martin. The only thought that reassured him was that she’d know exactly what it felt like to be him.

Right after the door clicked shut, Dr. Martin looked at Jacob and whispered, “It will be the hardest thing in the world for her — being a victim of her own impossible wishes.”

Jacob ‘eeked,’ let out a whoop, then leapt into Dr. Martin’s arms.

“But that’s what happens when you revive a dead hope.”