GREAT CHIP v
(Autistic author)
Eventually, Plankton stirs, his
antennae twitching slightly.
His eye opens, and for a
moment, he's disoriented. He
looks at Chip, then at his hand
on his own, and a flicker of
memory passes through his eye.
He then pulls his hand
away. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says
softly. "I'm here."
Plankton's expression shifts.
He sighs, his eye dropping to
his son's hand.
"Chip," he murmurs. "Wh-what
happened?"
Chip's heart skips a beat.
He wasn't sure how much to say,
but he knew he couldn't lie. "You had
another... moment," he says carefully.
Plankton's face falls, the weight
of his own reality crashing down
on him like a heavy fog. He nods slowly,
his eye searching the room as if
trying to piece together the puzzle
of his lost time.
"I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice
barely above a whisper. "I didn't know."
Plankton's eye meets his, the anger
dissipating like the fog.
"It's not your fault,"
he says, his voice weary.
"I just... I can't handle
much sometimes."
Chip nods, feeling a lump
in his throat. "Can I hug you?"
he asks tentatively, remembering
his mother's advice.
Plankton's antennae droop,
his eye searching Chip's face.
After a moment, he nods. "Yes,
but just for a second."
Chip leans in
carefully, wrapping
his arms around
his dad's shoulders.
Plankton tenses,
his body
a coil of nerves.
The hug is brief, but
it feels like
an eternity to Chip.
He pulls back,
his eyes searching
Plankton's face.
"Are you okay?"
Plankton's eye blinks
slowly. "I will be,"
he says, his voice
weary. "I just need some
time to regroup."
Chip nods, his mind racing
with questions and fears.
He didn't know what to say,
how to fix this.
He just knew he didn't want
his dad to feel like this.
Karen watches from the doorway,
her heart heavy with the weight of
the unspoken words between them.
She wishes she could take the pain
away, but she knows that this
moment belonged to her husband
and her son.
Chip's hand lingers in the space
where Plankton's was, feeling
the warmth that's no longer there.
He swallows hard, trying to push
his fears aside. "What can I do?"
he asks, his voice trembling.
Plankton takes a deep breath,
his antennae twitching as he tries
to gather his thoughts. "Just maybe
try not to touch me... unless I ask."
The words hang in the air,
a stark reminder of the chasm
that's opened between them.
Chip nods solemnly, his heart heavy.
He doesn't fully understand
his dad's condition, but he knows
it's real and it's painful. And he knows
he played a part in it today.
"Dad," he starts
tentatively,
"Can we talk
about your...
moments?"
Plankton's antennae
droop. "What do you
want to know?" he
asks, his voice
sounding more
tired than defensive.
Chip takes a
deep breath, trying
to formulate his
thoughts. "Well, I just
want to understand
what you go through.
What happens during
those moments?"
Plankton looks away, his
face contorting with the
effort of explaining.
"It's like my brain goes
on a vacation without me,"
he says finally. "Everything's
too much, and I just...
zone out."
Chip nods, trying to
picture it. "What's it like?
The zoning out, I mean."
Plankton sighs, his antennae
waving slightly. "It's like...
being in a movie theater, but
instead of watching the movie,
the lights and sounds are all around me.
They're too bright, too loud. And when I come
back, it's like the movie's still playing
in fast forward. I miss parts of it,
and I can't rewind."
Chip's eyes widen with
understanding. "So, it's like a break,
but it's not fun for you?"
Plankton nods. "It's more like
a reboot. My brain needs it,
but it's scary not knowing
when it'll happen or how
long it'll last."
Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
seeing the vulnerability behind
the usual bravado. "But why do
you get so mad sometimes?"
Plankton's antennae twitched,
his face contorting with the effort
of explaining. "It's like...
everything's too much, and then
I can't stop it," he said. "It's like
being stuck in a loop of noises
and feelings, and I just need to
make it stop. And sometimes, that
means getting angry."
Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
trying to understand. "But why
does it make you so mad?"
Plankton's antennae drooped.
"It's not just from
anger," he corrected gently.
"It's overstimulation. My brain
can't process everything at once,
so it shuts down to protect itself."
Chip nodded, his eyes
wide with realization.
He'd never thought of it
like that before. "So, it's like
you're in a crowded room,
and everyone's talking at you
at the same time?"
Plankton's eye lit up
slightly. "Exactly," he said,
his voice a mix of relief
and exhaustion. "And when
you touch me afterward,
it's like someone turning
the volume up even louder."
Chip's hand retreated to
his lap, understanding
dawning on his face. "So, it's like...
sensory overload?"
Plankton nodded, his eye
closing briefly. "Yes, it's like my
brain's circuits are fried, and I just
need a reset."
Chip sat quietly,
absorbing his father's words.
He'd never thought about it
from that perspective before.
He knew his dad was different,
but he didn't understand
the depth of his struggle.
"What about the seizures?"
Chip asked, his voice tentative.
"Do they feel like that too?"
Plankton nodded, his antennae
waving slightly. "They're like...
a storm in my head," he said,
his voice strained. "They come
without warning, and I can't do
anything to stop them. It's like
everything's too much, and my brain
has to shut down to protect itself."
Chip's eyes grew wide
with empathy. "That sounds
scary. But I've seen you hug
mom.."
Plankton sighed, his antennae
waving slightly. "It's different
with your mom. She knows
how to touch me without making
it too much."
Chip's mind raced, trying to grasp
the complexities of his dad's
neurodivergence. "But how?"
he pressed, eager to learn.
Plankton took a moment to gather
his thoughts. "It's like...everything
is too loud or too bright,
and I can't just turn it down.
So, when I get overwhelmed,
my brain goes to 'sleep' for a bit."
Chip nodded slowly, his eyes
fixed on his father's antennae
which had stopped their erratic twitching.
"But what if I want to hug you?"
he asked, his voice tentative.
Plankton's eye opened, a glimmer
of something akin to hope flickering
within its depths. "Then you ask,"
he said simply. "You ask, and if I say
yes, you hug me gently. Like this."
He demonstrated by placing
his own hand on Chip's shoulder,
his grip firm but not tight. "But only
if I'm okay with it, okay?"
Chip nodded, feeling a weight
lift slightly from his chest.
"Okay," he whispered, his voice
shaky with emotion.