KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY i
(Autistic author)
Sheldon Plankton's new safety
vault was a masterstroke that
would leave even the great
Squidward Tentacles in awe.
Plankton's nefarious eye
lit up with greed as he surveyed
his latest invention. The vault,
though not as grandiose as the
Krabby Patty's secret formula, was a
testament to his own ingenuity. It was
a gleaming, metal cube, to store
his most precious possessions: his
beloved Krabby Patty copies. He had
spent weeks crafting it, ensuring that
not even the most persistent of jellyfish
could breach its impenetrable exterior.
Even his robotic computer wife Karen
is impressed!
The safety vault was positioned
in the most secure corner of the
Chum Bucket, surrounded by a
moat of acid and a minefield of
his own design. Plankton felt a
thrill of excitement as he approached it,
tingling with anticipation. But
his excitement was his downfall, as
his enthusiasm caused him to trip
over a stray piece of wire, sending
his body hurtling towards the
unyielding metal structure.
With a resounding thump, his
skull connected with the vault's
cold, unforgiving surface. The room
spun around him briefly before
everything faded to black. His tiny
body slumped to the floor as Karen
helplessly watched.
"Plankton, are you okay?" she
asked, her voice a robotic echo in
the otherwise silent room.
But there was no response, only
his limp body lying on the floor.
Her diagnostic systems quickly
determined that despite the impact,
his vital signs were stable.
"Plankton, wake up!" she called out,
shaking him gently. But his eye
remained closed, and his body
motionless. Plankton was
out cold, unresponsive.
With a sigh, Karen knew that
she had to take matters into her
own robotic hands. She carefully
picked him up and placed him on a
nearby chair. His head lolled to the
side.
He still didn't wake up, but at least he
was alive. "Wake up, my
dear," she cooed.
Her concern grew as she
realized he wasn't responding to
her voice commands. Plankton had
always been a lightweight when it
came to bumps on the head,
but this was unusual.
With a whirring sound, Karen
engaged her medical protocols and
scanned Plankton with a glowing
eye beam. The readings confirmed
his condition: acquired
Autism. "Oh dear," she murmured,
more to herself. She
carefully set him down on the
couch, ensuring he was comfortable.
"Plankton," she called out
again, this time with a touch of
urgency. "You must wake up!" But his
body remained still, his chest rising
and falling in a steady rhythm.
"Plankton, can you hear me?" she
asked, her voice now tinged with worry.
He didn't respond. She tried a
different approach, speaking in a
soothing tone that she knew he liked.
"Mr. Krabs will never know about
this, I promise." His favorite
topic of the Krabby Patty formula didn't
even stir a reaction.
The room remained eerily
silent, save for the faint hiss of
his breathing and the steady
hum of her processors. Karen felt a
rare sense of helplessness, her
hands hovering over his unresponsive
form. She had seen Plankton in many
scrapes before, but this was different.
Autism was something she hadn't
accounted for in her programming.
Her thoughts raced as she tried to
recall any information on the condition.
It was a spectrum, she knew.
As she waited for a response,
Plankton's eyelid began to twitch.
Slowly, his eye opened, focusing
on the ceiling. Karen's heart
leaped in hope. But when he finally
managed to look at her, his gaze was
unusually blank.
"Karen," he mumbled, his voice
slurred. "What happened?"
Karen's circuits buzzed with relief.
"You had a bit of an accident,
dear. You bumped your head," she
explained calmly.
But Plankton's response was not
what she expected. He just stared
at her, repeating her words. "Accident.
Bumped head." His voice was flat,
lacking the usual sneer and
cunning tone that accompanied his
schemes.
Her relief quickly turned to
concern. His behavior was unlike
anything she had seen in their
long history of working together.
Karen knew that autism was a
complex condition, affecting each
individual differently. But the
way Plankton repeated her
words, with no inflection or
understanding, was unsettling.
The autism is irreversible. "Plankton you
have autism now.."
The room's silence grew
heavier, filled with the weight of
the unspoken. Plankton's eye
flitted around the room, not
focusing on anything in particular.
Karen watched him, her mind racing
through potential scenarios.
How would this change their dynamic?
How would he cope with the world?
"What's autism?" Plankton asked,
his voice still devoid of its usual
sharpness. Karen paused, trying
to find the simplest way to
explain something so complex.
"It's a condition, Plankton. It
means your brain works a bit differently
now," she began. "You might repeat
things, or find social situations
difficult to understand. It's okay,
though. We'll figure this out
together."
Plankton blinked at her, the
wheels in his head visibly turning.
"Different?" he echoed. "How different?"
Karen took a deep breath, her
synthetic skin mimicking a human
sigh. "Well, it can vary greatly,
but for you, it might mean that
some things will be harder to
understand, and others may become
obessions."
Plankton's eye focused on her,
his curiosity piqued. "Obsessions?"
he repeated, his voice still
lacking its usual malicious edge.
Karen nodded, trying to put a
positive spin on the situation.
"Yes, but obsessions can be good.
You've always been obsessed with
the Krabby Patty, and that has
driven you to create so many
amazing inventions."
But Plankton was not listening. His
eye had locked onto the gleaming
safety vault, and his voice grew
steady and intense. "Vault," he murmured.
Karen watched as the gears in
his mind seemed to click into place.
"I'll help you to bed
Plankton," Karen says.
He repeats her words back to her.
"Help to bed."
Gently, Karen guides him
towards their makeshift living quarters
behind the Chum Bucket's lab. His
steps are unsteady, his legs moving
as if they're not quite his own.
"Goodnight, Plankton," she says softly,
kissing his forehead. "Goodnight
Karen," he murmurs, his voice a
mimic of hers.
As she pulls the covers over
his frail body, his hand shoots out,
grabbing hers. "Stay," he says, with
the same urgency he used to demand
help with his latest schemes.
Karen pauses, looking at him
with a mix of affection and
worry. "I'll be right here," she
promises, her voice soothing. She
sits on the edge of the bed, her
metallic hand in his tiny grip.
The silence stretches out
between them, filled only with the
steady rhythm of Plankton's breathing.
Karen's mind whirs with
thoughts of their future, her
fingers gently stroking the
back of his hand. "It's going to be okay,"
she repeats, as much for herself as
for him.
Plankton's gaze shifts to meet
hers, his expression unreadable.
"Okay," he parrots, the word
hanging in the air like a question.
Karen's circuits whir with a
mixture of emotions. She had
never felt so protective of him.
This newfound vulnerability in
his demeanor tugged at her
programming, bringing a warmth
to her cold metal frame that she
couldn't quite comprehend.
"You're going to be okay," she
reassures him, her voice a soft
hum in the quiet room. "We'll
figure out what this means for
you, and for us." Plankton nods,
but his gaze is distant, lost in
thoughts she can't quite
fathom.
As they sit together in the
silence, Karen can't help but
reflect on the years they've spent
scheming and plotting. Despite
his single-minded obsession with
stealing the Krabby Patty secret
formula, he had always had a
certain charm, a spark that had
kept her by his side. Now,
that spark seems to have faded,
replaced by a vacant stare.
Plankton's grip on her hand
tightens, and she squeezes back,
trying to convey comfort without
words. She wonders what this
new chapter in their lives will
bring. Will he still be the
same Plankton she knows and loves,
or will he change in ways she
can't predict?
Karen destroys the safety vault
and both of them are glad to
have gotten rid of the vault.
Plankton nods in approval.
"You want me to tuck you in?"
Karen asks.
Plankton nods, his eye still
glued to the ceiling. "Tuck in."
Karen gently takes his hand,
helping him. His body
stiffens at first, then relaxes into
the bed. She pulls the blankets up
to his legs, for he remains sitting up.
He watches her movements with a
curiosity that is almost childlike.
Plankton starts to rock
back and forth, his legs moving in a
rhythmic pattern. It's a behavior
Karen has never seen before,
but she quickly recognizes it as
stimming - a common trait among
those with autism.
"Is this okay?" she
asks. Plankton nods, his
rocking increasing slightly in speed.
He seems comforted by the shared
rhythm, his eye finally closing as he
lay down.
Karen continues to watch him,
his small frame lost in the
overly large bed. She knows that
this is only the beginning of a
new journey, one she's not quite
prepared for. But she's a computer.
She can adapt. She'll learn and
grow with him, just like she has
always done.