I may have already submitted a similar prompt, but there was mention made about how non-human species might be very good for autistes - some are very cuddly, some like particularly quiet environments, some have interesting textures. All good for degaussing or forcing the unwanted mob to back off when the autiste is having trouble communicating.
In case a similar prompt has already been made, I’ll request the first time a human of the autism spectrum met any of the Galactic Alliance
It looked like any other idiot-pod in the space lanes. The sad proof that something fatal had happened, elsewhere. Jork logged the vectors and ran a cross-check on the Galactic News-nets for any other hints of where it may have come from. And notified the rescue networks that she was due some pay.
Air mix inside matched the air mix outside. Good. And one living soul inside, according to its readouts. Apparently in distress.
Jork triple-checked the infection stats, too. Best not to give the patient anything they were unprepared for. Or to catch something from them. All good. Great. She popped the seals.
There was a lump in the middle of the seating arc. Swaddled entirely in a fluffy blanket. Oscillating regularly and making a constant noise.
“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…”
Jork took the universally accepted not-a-threat posture (cringing as low as possible and taking baby-steps forward. “Hello? Is friend,” she offered in Galstand.
“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…”
“You is hurt?”
“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…”
“You is scared?”
“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…”
“Please be speak?”
The lump cringed. Tightened on itself. Respiration was occurring, as was the sound. Jork ran a medical scanner and discovered that the inhabitant of the fluffy blanket was a human. A juvenile.
The human emerged from their huddle to watch the lights from the scanner[1].
“Hello,” Jork tried again. “Is friend. Am name Jork.”
The human didn’t seem to understand this, but reached out to touch. “Soft,” they said. “Smooth.”
“Yes,” agreed Jork. Uncertain as to whether this was a compliment.
“You’re like warm glass.”
Okay… “It is not safe to stay here,” said Jork. “This is survival pod. Is not live-in pod. You come with? I help.”
It was a steep learning curve, transporting this human to places where other humans were. She did not, in any way, react like humans were known to. She took in Jork’s normal as just that - normal. And when she warmed up to Jork’s company, little treasures became revealed.
Her name was Victoria. She liked the name Vic. She liked to line up her food by colour before ingesting and would -if unsupervised- suckle liquid Nutri-food from the bag all day if she could get away with it. She liked smooth things, fluffy things, and warm things.
And there were frequent episodes where she could not distinguish between reality and her own imagination. And since her reality stemmed largely from the fiction she’d absorbed, Jork had to learn how to deal with these incursions by comforting Vic before asking who could help resolve the problem.
And, when they finally docked with a Britanian station, Jork was truly sorry to see Vic return to her parents. On one hand, it would be easier to work without Vic wrapped around a limb, but… it would also be lonelier.
She also learned that the thing that made Vic so much more accepting of others and their ways was considered a mental disorder amongst humans. That humans pitied people like Vic. Sometimes, considered them lesser.
Further proof in Jork’s mind that humans were crazy.
[1] Thanks to numerous science fiction dramas, all scanners must have blinking lights as part of their makeup or various cogniscents will not be aware that they’re working.
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