(no subject)

[street_sparrow]

Gavroche emerges from Javert's corner, carrying a plate stacked high with fresh toast in one hand, and a smaller plate in the other bearing several pats of butter.

He's... not actually sure what he's going to do with it all.  He's not that hungry.  He makes for a table, sits and begins to eat, keeping an eye out for friends.

Anyone for toast?

Comments

[street_sparrow]

"Yeah, and he's been here for years."

[guppy_sandhu]

"And Javert called me 'deficient'." Fry complains, scowling.

[street_sparrow]

"It's just the way he'd see it", Gavroche says gently. "When I was your age, children who had... well, we didn't know what autism was... children who were different could be sent away to live in hospitals. Some people even thought it was the only thing to do for them."

And that was the lucky ones.

[guppy_sandhu]

Fry scowls, then gets up and walks off, to stare at the trilobite tank. It just isn't fair.

"Some still are." Guppy says quietly, sighing.

[street_sparrow]

"...really? Even in your time?"

[guppy_sandhu]

"More commonly in adults." Guppy says. "Most of the kids get to stay at home, but often as the parents get older they can't cope."

He looks back at Gavroche. "More severely affected kids than Fry, mind. We know kids from summer school who will likely never speak and will need 24 hour care."

[street_sparrow]

"Yeah, that makes sense when you put it like that. The kid gets stronger, the parent gets weaker, and they know they won't be around forever... they'd want to arrange something. If autism was a thing in 1832, we didn't have a name for it. It all just got lumped in together, as 'deficient' or 'subnormal' or whatever. Except maybe the, um... they call it Down's syndrome in your time, because you can see that to look at it. And those kids often got kept because they could still pull their weight."