NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vi
(Autistic author) (see notes below)
* ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Plankton's eye
closed slowly, his
breathing evening out
under her calming
touch. His body
relaxed into the
cushions of the couch,
his mind still racing
but his body succumbing
to the siren call of
sleep. The smoothie
and Karen's comforting
presence had
worked their magic.
Karen sat beside
him,
wrapped protectively
around his small
form. She watched
his chest rise and
fall with each
breath, her heart
heavy with the weight
of the day's events.
The Chum Bucket
was quiet now, the
silence a stark
contrast to the
shouts and sobs that
had filled it moments
before. Karen's
heart breaks for Plankton
yet she knows Hanna's
never met him, never heard
of the accident nor diagnosis.
With a sigh, she
picked up the phone
that lay on the
end table and
dialed Hanna's number.
The line rang once,
twice, three times
before Hanna's
voice filled the
line. "Hello?"
Karen took a
deep breath,
steeling herself for
the conversation
she had to have. "Hanna,
it's me," she
said, her voice
calm despite the
whirlwind inside her.
"I need to talk to
you about what
happened."
Hanna's tone
shifted immediately,
concern lacing her
words. "Is Plankton
okay?"
Karen's grip
on the phone
tightened. "No," she
admitted, her voice
a whisper. "He's
asleep now, but he's
not okay."
Hanna's voice
was a mix of
shock and
disbelief. "What do
you mean?"
Karen took
another deep
breath, her eyes
never leaving
Plankton's peaceful
face. "There was
an accident," she
began, her voice
steady. "He hit his
head and..." She
swallowed the lump
in her throat. "Acquired
Autism Spectrum Disorder."
The line was
silent for a
moment before
Hanna's voice
came back, filled
with horror. "Oh
Neptune, I had
no idea!"
Karen's tentacles
trembled slightly
as she recounted
the doctor's words,
the diagnosis that
had turned their
world upside down. "It's
permanent," she
whispered. "They said
his corpus callosum
and cerebellum were
damaged. He's...he's
not the same, Hanna."
On the phone,
Hanna's voice
was a mix of
sympathy and
confusion. "But
why didn't you tell
me sooner?"
Karen's sigh
was heavy with
regret. "We've
been dealing with
this alone," she
explained, her tentacle
tracing patterns
on the couch cushion.
"It's so new, so
overwhelming."
Hanna's voice
was gentle now,
understanding in a
way that made Karen
feel less alone.
"I'm so sorry, Karen,"
she said, her
concern genuine. "I
had no idea."
Karen's
eyes remained
locked on Plankton's
face, his chest rising
and falling with
each breath. "It's
been a rollercoaster,"
she admitted, her
voice tight. "But
we're trying to
make the best of it."
Karen hangs up and
turns her focus back to
Plankton, his small
body curled tightly
under the blanket.
She notices
the way his
antenna twitches
as if he's dreaming.
Her hands
gently adjust the
blanket, her touch
feather-light against
his skin. Plankton's
face is a mask of
peace in sleep, a stark
contrast to the
turmoil of the
waking world. His
snores are faint, a
soothing rhythm
that fills the
otherwise silent room.
Just as Karen
begins to relax,
the door to the Chum
Bucket bursts open,
letting in a rush
of sunlight and
SpongeBob's
unmistakable
laughter. "Plankton?"
he calls out, his
voice high and
cheerful.
Sponge Bob's
entrance is a
whirlwind of
energy, a stark
contrast to the
heavy silence that
hangs over the
laboratory. He
doesn't notice the
tension in the
air as he bounds
towards the couch,
his eyes widening
in surprise when he
sees Plankton's
unusual position.
"Whoa, Plankton,"
Sponge Bob says,
his voice a
chirp of curiosity.
"Looks like you're
taking a siesta!"
He laughs, not
comprehending the
depth of emotion
that has just
played out in
the room.
Karen looks
up from her
watchful vigil,
her eyes tired but
determined. "Sponge
Bob," she says,
keeping her voice
steady, "Plankton's
not feeling well."
Sponge Bob's
face falls, his
cheerfulness
dimming. "Oh no,"
he says, his
concern genuine.
He approaches
the couch with
caution, his eyes
fixed on Plankton's
peaceful form.
"What happened?"
he asks, his
voice hushed.
"Is he okay?"
Karen's eyes
meet Sponge Bob's,
full of a sorrow
he can't quite
comprehend. "It's
been a...difficult
day," she says, her
tentacles tightening
slightly around
Plankton. "He had
an accident."
Sponge Bob's
expression shifts
from confusion to
alarm. "Is he
going to be okay?"
he asks, his voice
filled with
concern. Karen
sighs, her tentacle
stroking Plankton's
forehead in a
soothing motion.
"He's just...different
now," she says, her
voice tight.
Sponge Bob
frowns, his
bubbles popping
with worry. "What
kind of different?"
Karen's
expression is
guarded, her
eyes never leaving
Plankton's sleeping
form. "He's been
diagnosed with...
autism," she
whispers, the word
sounding foreign
even to her.
"Hey, I was born with
idiopathic Autism!"
Sponge Bob says.
"Well Plankton's got
an acquired form, it's
a rarity," Karen
explains to Sponge
Bob, her voice
barely a murmur so
as not to disturb
the sleeping Plankton.
Sponge Bob nods
slowly, his
understanding of
the situation
deepening with
each word.
"So his accident gave
him autism; when?"
"Yesterday, when he hit
his head on an invention."
Sponge Bob's eyes
widen with realization.
"Oh," he says,
his voice filled with
sympathy.
He sits down
on the floor
beside the couch.
"It's okay, Karen,"
Sponge Bob says
softly, his eyes
full of
understanding. "We'll
figure this out
together."
Plankton stirs
beneath the
blanket, his
small form
shifting slightly.
Karen's gaze
snaps to him.
"Plankton?" she
whispers, her
tentacles poised
to comfort him if
his distress
resurfaces. But his
eye remains closed,
his breathing even.
Sponge Bob's
expression is
thoughtful as he
looks at the
sleeping Plankton.
"You know, Karen,
being different isn't
so bad," he says
gently. "I mean,
look at me."
Karen's tentacles
relax slightly
as she looks at
Sponge Bob, his
optimism a balm
to her weary
spirit. Karen smiles.
"Tell that to Hanna,"
Karen mutters to
herself.
"Who's Hanna?"
"A friend," Karen
explained, her
voice still tight.
"She came over
today, didn't know
about Plankton's
diagnosis. She said
things she shouldn't
have."
Sponge Bob's
frown deepens.
"What kind of
things?"
"She said
he's a burden,
that maybe I should
put him in an
institution," she
whispers, her voice
shaking with anger.
Sponge Bob's
face falls in shock.
"That's not
right, Karen,"
he says firmly. "You
don't have to
listen to her. What's an
institution?"
"It's a place where
clinically crazy people
are sent to rehabilitation
be 'taken care of.' But
it's not like that
really for neurodivergent
people. It's more like
a...a prison where they
deprive them, and
often...never make it.
But mostly it's for people
who are violent, which isn't
the case for..."
Her voice trails off as
Plankton stirs again,
his antennae twitching
slightly.
Sponge Bob looks at
Plankton, his eyes
filled with
compassion. "He's not
going anywhere, Karen,"
he says firmly. "You guys
are like family to
me. I'll help you
take care of him."
Plankton's single
eye opens slightly,
his gaze unfocused.
"Shh, it's okay,"
she whispers, her
voice a soothing
caress.
Plankton blinks
slowly, his eye
coming into focus
as he sees Sponge
Bob.
A smile
spreads across his
face, a rare
expression of pure
joy that lights up
his features. His
body uncoils from
its tense curl,
his antennae
perking up with
excitement.
"Sponge Bob,"
Plankton whispers,
his voice filled with
a warmth that
surprises Karen.
He sits up slowly,
his movements
calculated to
avoid any jolts
to his sensitive
system.
Sponge Bob's face
splits into a
beaming smile,
his eyes
shining with
joy. "Hey, Plankton!"
He says.
Plankton's gaze
remains fixed on
Sponge Bob, his
expression a
mixture of
gratitude and
comfort. "You're
here," he says
simply, his voice
a rough whisper.
Sponge Bob nods,
his smile never
wavering. "Of course
I am," he says,
his voice gentle.
He reaches out
a hand tentatively,
his movements
slow and deliberate.
Plankton's antennae
twitch, then he
reaches out,
his grip firm but
not too tight.
The two of them
sit there,
the silence
comforting rather
than oppressive.
**NOTEs As an autistic
writer (and I used AI to
help me with the words)
I do not encourage the
ableism people have
shown in their ignorance.
Depending on when and
where you live, some
people have thought
such therapies might be
good, without actually
accepting nor helping.
Even Hans Asperger
has supported eugenics
during the war, sending
people to internment
camps leading to demise.
I came across the site
autismmemorial.wordpress.com
if you'd like to educate yourself
about how people have
endured such.*