Neurodivergent Utopia

Janice stabbed her spoon into the all-marshmallow cereal, trying not to scream.

“Gooooooood-MORNING Neurotopia!!!! Another day in the most PERFECT world we could ever imagine!” the ADHD Channel blared. “Too loud? That’s okay! Flip to the Sensory Channel for a calmer start to your morning! The autism friendliness there allows for a much more organized structure that is less overstimulating! Are you just about to jump out of your skin? Feel like starting a thousand new projects? Here, you can! Every day, in every way! Even the sky can't be the limit!”

Janice’s stomach churned as she changed the channel, trying to get away from the blaring, inescapable energy that seemed to fill every room in their house.

"This rock is called Agate," a gentle voice intoned. "It’s a variety of chalcedony and comes in gray, blue, green, pink, and murky white. It forms when the…"

Growling, Janice jabbed at the funky, strangely colored and shaped buttons of the remote, hunting for the off switch.

Though all objects flew into people's hands, making it impossible to lose anything, turning off the show would've disrupted the morning routine with too much change. Not possible.

The screen went right back to the Stimulation Channel.

Janice's shirt changed to an angry silver. Though only people with autism wore these shirts, in a confused desperation, her school teacher handed her one. Mood shirts were designed to reflect the psychological state and conscious thoughts of the wearer, serving as a communication aid for nonverbal autistic individuals.

They didn't work too well on her.

"MOM, JANICE IS STEALING THE REMOTE AGAIN!" her very verbal younger sister, Amelia, cried.

Mom drifted through the archways to the dining room. Despite being hyper-focused on her art project all night, judging by the paint in her curls, she had the healthiest glow about her. Creativity was her life's work, like it was for most people.

"What’s going on?" she asked, though her eyes were already distracted by her sleeve screen.

Janice didn’t answer, grateful for another distraction.

The breakfast table changed again: new dishes blossomed out of its surface. Bright, clashing textures. Colors so vivid they hummed. Raspberry bread (Amelia’s favorite: the only thing she'd eat for the past three weeks) curled warm and crustless onto a plate beside her.

Janice hated it. Too soft. Too fragrant.

Her shirt shifted again, now a goose-poop green, with a vomitting emoji on the center.

She hated this whole theatrical setup.

Literally, because her mother had started to sing. Amelia joined in, layering harmonies and beatboxing with her spoon.

Janice tensed.

“Can we just go to Snack Park already? I'm showcasing my assignment today.”

For once, she will be special in this world, thanks to her dedication to her assignment.

"We'll leave once we're done eatingggg!" Mom sang musically.

This was Janice's least favorite form of communication. Worse than the stupid shirts. Reminding her that she must be some glitch, her now ruby red shirt read "!!!"

She wished so badly that she was born into a different family. Not too different, mind you, because she was sick of everything being so special and vibrant. It's only that Janice could imagine herself putting up with a family with autism, not a family with ADHD.

Maybe there she could hide better.

Hours later, after an unbearably long wait for Mom and Amelia to get ready, the family left for Snack Park. Stepping into the world, Janice frantically put on her Comfort Sunglasses, hoping for some peace. But the kaleidoscopes and soothing music were almost as agitating as her surroundings.

"What a wonderful world we live in, right girls?" Mom mused.

It had trees that could talk. Trees that were made of sugar, glass, fruit, or paper you could write on. Amethyst, Desert Rose, and Auburn skies rained gentle drops of fruit juice this afternoon. No stickiness or discomfort. It all just felt like a warm hug.

"It's perfect, Mom," Amelia agreed.

Offbeat, Janice said, "I wonder what it'd be like if the drops were made of water, and the wet clothes would stick to my skin."

Horrified, Mom and Amelia asked the trees for something to fidget with.

"Janice," Mom began, while making an origami hippo. "We talked about this. You can't say things like that. It'll make people feel very stressed."

A neighbor greeted them wearing a white shirt, decorated with calming waves. The shirt, unlike Janice's, stated clearly:

Mood: supportive

Energy Level: 68%

Message: I'm nonverbal today. It's not personal!

Janice sighed longingly, wondering why her shirt always malfunctioned. Currently, it was a strange light-brown color, on it, the text read "???"

The sidewalk, after all, couldn't be something straight and simple like gray pavement! It was essentially a jungle gym. Primary colors and shapes allowed everyone to Walk by Playing. Jumping on the yellow triangles, you could imagine the floor was lava. Plunging into the blue foam, you could pretend for a second that you could fly. Sometimes you had to walk backwards, or climb temperamental escalators, or even rock climb.

All that mattered was the walk was stimulating and fun.

Well it was not fun. Janet slipped and fell.

Before hitting the ground, she was caught by a kind chimpanzee named Joey. He was surprisingly fond of this young, loner girl.

"He says that he'll take you to the park," Amelia translated enviously, using her upgraded hearing device.

Like everyone else, she loved animals. For that reason, she begged her mom to get the translator for her tenth birthday. Their uncle, an esteemed scientist, came up with this invention recently, allowing Amelia to use an uncommon prototype.

Janice never understood why everything was just handed to everyone in this world. She felt like people should have to get something in exchange for their work, to which her family would always say they do, like a personalized mug or jewelry collection in exchange for a helping hand or hosting an event. It still didn't seem fair. She knew people saw expression as the way to contribute to society, but what about those that weren't expressive?

Well, that was just her. Who was she kidding?

Swinging on the branches of the magical trees, Janice and Joey arrived in Snack Park at top speed. A true wonderland of snacks, people loved to come here, whenever they were in need of munching on their chosen snacks.

Some people needed chewy and sour; therefore, they sat in the sour gummy grass. Others preferred salted and crunchy, and for that reason, they played around the Cheetos bushes. The soda, slushy, soft drink, tea, and coffee ponds and rivers were gloriously slurped by children and adults alike.

Thankfully, everything consumed in Neurotopia was healthy and nutritious (and delicious!)

"Janice! We're so glad you're here," the substitute teacher smiled. "Your teacher couldn't be here today. She was below optimal energy levels according to her sleeve screen."

Missing things or being late was natural for them. Having class outside in an edible park? Equally. But despite that, Janice had hope for today.

"Miss, I'm ready to turn in my assignment!" she announced.

Taken aback, the teacher asked, "Already?"

The young girl marched up to her teacher with a pile of heavy papers.

"What's this?"

"My 14-page research."

"Oh, Janice, you can't expect me to read all that!" the teacher laughed.

Cheeks burning, Janice pushed, "But Miss, it was due toda—"

"I have something to show today too, Miss," interjected another girl.

Replacing Janice in front of the class, she said, "My homework was assigned two months ago, and I finally feel ready to complete it."

She began an interpretive dance that (to Janice, looked like an exotic bird's mating ritual, but) seemed to captivate the others. When the dance ended, applause roared in praise of her.

"You did an excellent job applying what you learned in Dance Expression class. You really contributed to the Spectrum today! Feel proud!" the teacher cried.

Janice, outraged, said, "But this is completely unfair. She did no research and is completely late—"

"Janice!" reprimended the teacher. "You can't say things like that!"

Because she made her classmates stressed, the group had to transition to yoga stretches, simultaneously chewing gum. While her classmates were enjoying the free class designed to teach them expression and emotion regulation, Janice opted out of participating.

A girl with a lobster hat said, "Look how mysterious she is."

Some kids were squirming on their bouncy balls, whispering to each other. "Why is she always so still?"

Janice's spine was as straight as a rod. It always was. She just liked to sit up straight, but now her shoulders drooped

Her shirt flashed with the word "ERROR".

Her teacher shook her head disapprovingly.

Mom would receive another message about Janice.

Variant. Anomaly. If she would only apply herself. Try more. Maybe a doctor could fix her.

The thoughts were eating away at Janice. Her shame was burning a hole in her stomach.

Her family arrived when the Animal Love class began, where everyone learned how to understand and take care of a plethora of creatures. Mom gave Amelia an absentminded kiss on the forehead before heading off to fetch some art supplies from the Art Forest. She looked forward to further contributing to the Spectrum with her projects.

"I'm going to the circus after this!" Amelia announced proudly.

"US TOO!!!" the children shouted, rolling in excitement.

Because today's lesson was on chimpanzees, Janice figured that spending time with Joey would be a good way to get away from her rage and shame.

She opened her mouth to say something to the chimp, but no words came. Choked up, tears in her eyes, Janice was miserable.

To her surprise, Joey held her hand and led her down an unfamiliar road. A groovy, twisty path of vines that lit up with each step, leading toward a place she’d never seen before.

She couldn't tell how long they walked, but when a new road of smooth stones appeared, Joey stopped.

"Ooo, ooo!" he pointed intently.

A giant building stood in front of them, made of various stones, including agate, the one Janice happened to learn about this morning. The stained-glass windows cast jewel-colored light-leaks on the mossy ground. The wooden door, carved intricately with flowers, welcomed them up smooth, marble steps.

She was certain: Joey had taken her to the Other End of the Spectrum.

A flickering memory stirred. Something about this place felt familiar.

When the doors opened, the smell of parchment and knowledge filled her lungs. Squirrels, frogs, and other small creatures bustled quietly over the wooden, carpeted floor. Janice had never walked on such solid ground. Columns about her hip and shoulder height rose from the floor, each displaying sparkling stones, carved sculptures, and rare plants, protected by glass.

It was calm, quiet, and beautifully dim.

"Wow! Where am I?"

A duckling squeaked, trying to explain, but Janice was too concerned about germs. She stepped briskly away. Unused to such steady flooring, her legs wobbled, anticipating the bounciness of mattresses, and she stumbled straight into Rosario.

“Oh—woah. Um, sorry,” he stammered, blushing. “Would you like to learn about bluebells? Nothing’s more magical than finding an ocean of them in a hidden glade.” He ran his fingers nervously through his hair, a flicker of determination lighting his green eyes. “I’m your museum guide.”

Realization dawned on her. She'd been here before! A nearly-intruiging day-trip with her class to the museum. But what to say to Rosario?

In her mind, pretending to be interested seemed polite. But after thirteen years in this place, she should’ve known better.

After what felt like an eternity, seven other plant specie, and more fun facts than she could count ("Did you know broccoli is actually a flower?"), Janice finally excused herself.

Rosario would spend the next three years lost in a fond fantasy of Janice—an ideal version of her that slowly replaced the real one. By the time they might cross paths again, she’d be unrecognizable to him, not because she’d changed, but because he’d rewritten her into someone fictitious.

Janice's wrist screen blinked red: dangerously high boredom levels.

Risky for others. Normal Tuesday for her.

Joey swung lazily through the rooms, seeming amused by her efforts to avoid unwanted experiences. From the corner of her eye, Janice swore she saw him cough, attempting to hide laughter.

As the outcast and the monkey pushed past another heavy wooden door, Janice gasped.

The carpeted floor all but vanished beneath the jungle of towering wooden shelves in this library. Books were sorted by title, color, name, shape, and size—so meticulously arranged it was mesmerizing.

Researchers, scientists, and quiet academics wandered between stacks. The silence was oddly comforting, but Janice worried about breaking unwritten rules.

Her shirt turned blank, reading “–” in stark white on black.

Imitating the others, she browsed the shelves. How to Finish What You Start in Self-Help. The Magical Tale of the Mushroom Friends in Fiction. When she mimicked them again, she noticed they took notes as they read, ever diligent and focused. Intrigued, Janice sat at a drawing desk, opened How to Write, and carefully copied down the first line.

“I see you met my good friend, Joey,” an elderly woman said kindly over her shoulder. "He tends to take a liking to folks like you and me."

"How did you know..?"

Janice sucked in a surprised breath. The woman had a shirt just like hers: malfunctioning, blank. Instantly feeling guilty, she dipped her head. She must've caused this problem.

"Don't be ashamed, dear. It's not a bad thing. People like us only require accommodation. Now, let me see if I can help you with what I learned over the years."

For the next hour, Mrs. Tipikus taught her how to build sentences, how to tell a story. Though Janice had taken writing classes before, this was different. The way Mrs. Tipikus explained things, it all just clicked.

She wrote about her anguish. Her isolation. Even the buzz of her wrist screen that warned her to stop repetitive tasks, couldn’t interrupt the flow.

She wrote about hating the TV channels, about feeling completely alone in a world that celebrated community.

She imagined a different world: one that stretched the Spectrum wide enough to include people like her and Mrs. Tipikus. The more she wrote, the more she wanted to write. For the first time, Janice felt like she found a way she could contribute to the Spectrum.

The next day, she went to the Council with Mrs. Tipikus, Joey by their side.

Janice came over-prepared, clutching her notes and proposals, ready to speak.

This perfect world that allowed for creatives to thrive, that held space for the wonderfully chaotic, and celebrated a wide range of hobbies, forgot about those that the umbrella didn't cover.

She stood tall before the Council and declared:

“We are neurotypicals, and we need to belong too.”