A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iii
(Autistic author)
Inside, she sets him down
on their favorite couch, the one
with the frayed edges and
the squeaky spring that always
reminded them of their first date.
The room is cluttered with
half-finished inventions and
plans for Krabby Patty heists.
She sits beside him.
The silence stretches on,
heavier than a net full of
anchovies. Plankton's antennas
twitch, his eye darting around
the room, taking in the chaos.
Karen's mind is racing,
wondering if he recognizes any
of it, if it brings back any
memories of their life together.
"Home," he murmurs, his
voice filled with uncertainty.
The room feels smaller, more
cramped than she remembered, as if
the walls are closing in on them.
"Do you like it here?" she asks,
trying to gauge his reaction.
He looks around, his antennas
moving slightly as he processes
his surroundings. "Home," he says
again, his voice a mix of
curiosity and confusion.
The room is a jumble of
wires, gadgets, and half-eaten
chum sticks. Karen's
with tears as she realizes
how much she's taken for granted
their life together. She had
always loved Plankton's quirks and
his boundless energy, but now
his mind seemed to be stuck in a
loop, unable to move beyond
the basic functions of
acknowledgment.
"Home," Plankton says again,
his antennas drooping. "Home with
Karen."
The repetition of the words
stirs something within Karen.
Echolalia, the doctor had called it,
a common trait in those with
autism. It was Plankton's way
of trying to understand the
world around him, to find
comfort in familiar words and
phrases.
"Yes," she whispers, her
throat tight with emotion. "This
is our home."
The room seems to
shrink around them as Plankton's
echolalic chant of "home with
Karen" repeats in a soothing
loop. Each time he says it,
Karen feels a pang of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, he was
finding comfort in the
simplicity of their life together.
"Home with Karen," he
says again, his antennas
slightly more animated.
Karen nods,
brimming with tears. "Yes,
Plankton, we're home."
But she sees a flicker of
distress in his eye. "Sponge Bob,"
he whispers, his antennas
quivering with urgency. "Where's
Sponge Bob?"
Karen's heart squeezes at the
mention of him. "Sponge Bob's not
here right now," she says,
choosing her words carefully.
"But he'll come to visit."
Plankton's antennas shoot up,
his eye wide. "Sponge Bob," he
repeats, his voice gaining
strength. "Friend. Need Sponge Bob."
The desperation in his tone is
heart-wrenching, and Karen knows
she needs to act fast to soothe his
anxiety.
"Ok, ok," she says, her voice
calm. "Let's call Sponge Bob."
Karen picks up the phone, her
hands shaking slightly as she
dials the familiar number. The
phone rings once, twice, before
it's answered by a cheerful
voice.
"Karen?" Sponge Bob's voice
sounds surprised but concerned.
"Is everything ok?"
Karen takes a deep breath,
trying to keep her voice steady.
"It's Plankton," she says. "He's
asking for you to come over."
There's a pause on the
other end of the line. "Plankton?
But we're... I mean?" Sponge
Bob's voice is filled with
confusion.
Karen's with
desperation as she watches
Plankton rock back and forth
on the couch, his chant
growing louder. "Sponge Bob. Need
Sponge Bob."
"Please, Sponge Bob," she
pleads, her voice cracking.
Sponge Bob's voice on the
other end of the line softens.
"Of course, Karen. I'll be right
over."
The line goes dead, and Karen
hangs up the phone, feeling a
tiny spark of hope. Plankton's
cries for Sponge Bob have become
more insistent, his rocking more
pronounced. She gently places
a hand on his shoulder, trying
to soothe him.
"Sponge Bob's coming, Plankton,"
she says, her voice steady. "He'll
be here soon."
Plankton's rocking slows,
his antennas drooping slightly.
"Sponge Bob," he whispers,
his eye searching hers. "Safe."
The word hangs in the air, and
Karen realizes that despite his
confusion, he feels comfort in
Sponge Bob's presence.
A few moments later, they
hear the telltale sound of
bubbles popping against the
glass, and a knock on the door.
With a tremble, Karen
stands and opens it to reveal
Sponge Bob, looking slightly
nervous but determined.
"Hi, Plankton!" he exclaims.
Plankton's antennas shoot up at
the sound of his name, and he
whips his head around to face
the door. "Sponge Bob!" he
shouts, his eye lighting up
with an unmistakable joy.
Sponge Bob steps into the room.
"Sponge Bob!" he exclaims, his
voice a mix of excitement and
relief. He lunges forward,
wrapping his tiny arms around
the larger sponge in an embrace.
Sponge Bob looks surprised but
quickly returns the hug, his
spongy form enveloping Plankton
completely. "Plankton, what's
going on?" he asks, his eyes
wide with concern. He's never
seen Plankton like this.
Plankton pulls back, his
expression a jumble of
emotions. "Sponge Bob," he says
again, his voice filled with
affection. He grabs Sponge
Bob's hand and tugs him closer.
"Home with Karen. Need you."
Sponge Bob looks to Karen,
his eyes filled with
uncertainty, but she nods
encouragingly. "It's ok," she
says. "He's just happy you're here."
The sight of Plankton's
excited state brings a smile
to Sponge Bob's face, despite
his confusion. He sits down
next to him on the couch,
his own excitement growing.
"What do you want to do?"
Sponge Bob asks, his voice
filled with genuine enthusiasm.
Plankton's antennas twitch
as he thinks, his eye darting
around the room.
"Let's play a game," he
suddenly exclaims, his voice
filled with a child-like
excitement that hadn't been
there before.
"What kind of game, Plankton?"
Karen asks, eager to encourage
his newfound energy.
"Chess!" he exclaims, pointing
to a dusty board in the corner
of the room. Sponge Bob's eyes
widen with surprise, but he
doesn't hesitate. He leaps up
from the couch and wipes the
dust from the board with his
spongy hand, setting up the
pieces with surprising
efficiency.
Karen watches from the
sidelines, her heart swelling
with love and hope as Plankton's
enthusiasm grows.
He moves the pieces with a
frenetic energy, his eye
alight with a joy she hadn't
seen since before the accident.
Sponge Bob, ever the optimist,
matches his excitement, even
though he's clearly outmatched
by Plankton's strategic mind.
"Checkmate!" Plankton cries out,
his antennas waving with
each word. Sponge Bob's
expression is a mix of
surprise and admiration. "Wow,
Plankton, you're really good at
this!"
The room echoes with Plankton's
laughter, a sound that's both
familiar and foreign to Karen's
ears. The old Plankton would
have gloated.
"Checkmate," he says again,
his antennas bobbing in
excitement. "Checkmate,
checkmate."
Sponge Bob laughs, a
wonderful, genuine laugh that
fills the room. "You win, Plankton,"
he says, his hands clapping
together.
Plankton's antennas stop
twitching for a moment, and he
looks at Sponge Bob, his eye
studying the sponge's reaction.
"Win," he repeats, a hint of
understanding in his voice.
"Win at chess." He claps like
SpongeBob.
Sponge Bob's eyes light up,
seeing the connection. "Yes,
Plankton, you won the chess
game," he says, his voice
soothing. "You're really good
at it."
Plankton's antennas start to
twitch again, his eye darting
between the board and Sponge
Bob. "Win," he murmurs, his
voice filled with a newfound
sense of pride. "Win with Sponge
Bob."
The phrase becomes a chant,
his brain finding solace in
the repetition. "Win with Sponge
Bob, win with Sponge Bob."
Sponge Bob smiles warmly,
picking up the rhythm of
Plankton's words. "Yes,
Plankton," he says, his voice
soothing. "You won the game.
You're a great chess player."
Plankton's antennas quiver,
his eye locking onto Sponge
Bob's. "Great chess player,"
he echoes, his voice a mix of
pride and amazement.
"Win with Sponge Bob."
Karen watches from the
sidelines with hope.
Maybe, just maybe, this was
the breakthrough they needed.
Sponge Bob's presence was
calming him, bringing out a
side of Plankton she hadn't
seen since the accident.