CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vii
(By NeuroFabulous)
"Chip," he began, his voice
cracking. "I have something
important to tell you."
Chip leaned forward,
his heart racing. "What is it,
Dad?"
Plankton's antennae
twitched again, his eyes
meeting his son's with a
meld of love and apprehension.
"I'm autistic," he said, his
voice barely above a whisper.
Chip thought back to what his mom
had told him about his father's
unique way of being born, and
how it had affected his brain.
He remembered the awe in
his mother's voice as she recounted
the story of Plankton's
birth, the way she'd
spoken with a mix of wonder
and sorrow. It was a lot to take in,
but it made him feel closer to
his father somehow.
"Dad?" Chip's voice
was tentative, his hand
still hovering over
his father's arm. "What's a...
coffin birth?"
Plankton's antennae
stilled, his eye flicking
to Karen's. She gave a
tiny nod, understanding
the need for honesty.
"It's a rare event, Chip,"
Plankton began, his voice
steadier now. "It's when a
baby is born after their
mother has... passed away."
Chip's eyes searched his
father's, trying to make
sense of the words. "But how?"
Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae
flattening slightly. "The
doctors had to be... quick,"
he said, his voice filled
with awe. "They knew I was
still alive, and they did
everything they could to get me
out."
Chip's eyes grew even
wider, his imagination
running wild. "But Dad,
how does that even work?"
he whispered, his voice filled
with wonder and horror.
Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae
twitching slightly. "It's... it's a
difficult thing to explain,
Chip," he said, his voice
strained. "But basically,
when a mom's body isn't
alive anymore, but the baby's
heart is still beating, the
doctors do an emergency
procedure to get the baby out."
Chip's eyes were like
saucers, his mind racing.
"But how is that possible?"
he whispered, his voice
barely audible.
Plankton sighed, his
antennas drooping slightly.
"The doctors try to induce labor
in mum's body after she...
after she's gone," he said,
his voice strained with the
difficulty of the memory.
"It was a delicate process,
and not always successful. In
my birth, there was a moment
where my brain didn't get enough
oxygen," he murmured. "When I
was still inside mum."
Chip's unsure
how to react. "And
how'd it give you autism?"
Plankton's antennae
twitched again, his gaze
dropping to the bed. "Well,
it's something that
can happen when a baby's brain
doesn't get enough oxygen
during birth, Chip," he said,
his voice quiet. "It's like
a... hypoxic-ischemic event.
It can lead to... complications.
For me, it was autism."
Chip nodded, his hand
still hovering over his
father's arm. "But how did
your mum... die?" he asked, his
voice barely above a whisper.
Plankton's antennae
drooped further, his gaze
going distant. "It was an
accident," he murmured. "Her
heart... it just stopped.
Bled out, the doctors said."
Chip's hand hovered
over his dad's arm,
his mind racing with the
implications. "But why?"
Plankton took a moment,
his antennae flicking slightly.
"It's complicated, Chip.
My mum... she had a rarity.
Her heart was
weak, and it couldn't handle
the stress. It went undiagnosed
back then."
Chip's hand hovered
still, his heart breaking
for his dad. "But Dad,
why didn't anyone know?"
Plankton's antennae
twitched, his gaze going
to the floor. "They did,
eventually," he murmured.
"But by then, it was too late.
My mum was gone."
Chip's eyes filled with
sympathy, his hand
resting on the bed. "I'm
sorry, Dad," he whispered.
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, his gaze meeting
his son's. "It's okay, Chip.
It's not something you
could've known. I obviously
didn't know her to well, but
thank you."
Karen was glad to see
them connecting. "So
Chip, you can ask us
questions if you want."
Chip looked from Karen
to Plankton, his curiosity
piqued. "Dad, is there
anything you really hate
that makes you have these...
shutdowns?"
Plankton's antennae twitched
nervously, his eye darting
between them. "Well, Chip,
it's not always just one thing. It's
mostly like... a buildup.
Loud noises, too many people,
bright lights," he listed off.
"They can all make it
harder for me to focus, to
filter out the extra stuff
my brain's taking in."
Chip nodded, his eyes
never leaving his dad's face.
"What about touch?" he asked,
his voice tentative. "Does it
bother you?"
Plankton's antennae
twitched, his gaze flicking to
Karen's comforting hand.
"It depends," he said slowly.
"Some days, I crave it. Other
days, it's too much."
Chip nodded, his mind
racing. "What about hugs?"
he asked, his voice hopeful.
"Does it help you feel better?"
Plankton's antennae
quivered, his eye searching
his son's face. "Sometimes,"
he said, his voice tight. "But
not always."
Chip nodded, his
hand still hovering.
"Can I... ca--"
Plankton's antennae shot
up, his eye widening. "No!"
The suddenness
of his reaction made
Chip's hand jerk
back, his eyes
wide with shock.
"I'm sorry, buddy,"
Plankton said, his voice
softening as he saw the
fear in his son's eyes.
"It's just that, sometimes,
hugs are too much. I need...
space, like I told you. But only
if I know they're coming, and
only from people I trust. I'm
still recovering right now."
Chip's hand hovered in the
air, unsure of what to do.
"Can I... I don't know, maybe
just pat you on the shoulder?"
he asked, his voice hopeful. But
Plankton shook his head.
"No, Chip," he murmured. "I do
not want my shoulders to be
patted. That's too much."
Chip nodded, his gaze
on Plankton's. "How about a
high five?" he asked, his
hand still hovering.
Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly, his eye
narrowing as he considered
his son's question. "Maybe,"
he murmured. "But only if
you're gentle."
Chip nodded eagerly, his hand
slowly descending towards
his dad's hand. He hovered
for a moment, his heart racing.
Then, with all the gentleness
he could muster, he tapped his
father's hand with his fingertips.
Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly, but
his eye remained focused
on Chip's. "Good job,"
he murmured, his voice
a quiet praise. "That was...
perfect."