64: Storm Surge
It isn’t a work of art, but it is functional. It has taken almost two months to finish. A lot of hard work, sweat and tears have been involved, but it is finally ready. It’s strong, durable, and ready for the road ahead. Walking around it one last time, they have to admit it is good to finally be finished. This wagon will be their home for the next few months.
Wagon is a strange term here. This is actually something more akin to a horse drawn RV. At ten feet long and six feet wide, it sits on four truck wheels. The wheels and axles were salvaged from an old flatbed trailer in the junk yard. The framing is metal reinforced wood, which is covered over with wood paneling.
Ambrosia has outdone herself there. She has always had a knack for building things, but since she changed into a pony, the skills seemed to improve. Which she never understood since her mark is three apple slices. She’s even found she can use her mouth to wield tools for carving wood with detail which lead her to add in some flourishes on the wagon.
Inside, the wagon has a simple sink that is gravity fed from a large water storage tank up top. They have a pot belly style stove for cooking, and heating if they need it to. There is a table and benches, for sitting at, though one of the benches doubles as a bed. Two more beds are at the back of the trailer, with curtains that can be drawn. Ambrosia has put in a split door at the back, with a fold down staircase for easy entrance. They even have windows in the side and front of the trailer.
Ambrosia found Sunny Daze a few days after her change, the little foal isn’t the strongest in the world, but she has been able to help with some of the smaller things. Finding supplies, finding stuff to make the wagon livable. She’s a good scrounger with an eye for how to repurpose things.
Sunny Daze, for some reason, changed into a foal. Ambrosia doesn’t know why, it doesn’t really make any sense to her. Even as a foal, though, Sunny Daze works hard to help out with the build project. She’s had the dream as well.
The dream. It is the dream that drives them, and that has brought them together. Full Steam is a massive earth pony, easily the size and strength of Big Mac. His colors, however, are that of a normal horse. Chestnut brown with dark brown and black mane and tail, he towers over Ambrosia.
“Think you can pull it?” Ambrosia asks, looking up.
Walking up to it to the wagon Full Steam puts his shoulder against it and pushes. In response the wagon rolls forward a bit with ease, “Yeah. I could probably pull it if it didn’t have the wheels.”
Full Steam came up with the wagon idea. None of them have any money. At least, nowhere near enough for a plane ticket, let alone a car and the gas money it would take. They all had the dream though. She told them what they had to do. So there is no question in their minds. They don’t really understand it, but sometimes you have to take things on faith.
Sunny Daze bounds up and sit by the two, looking up, “Seven minutes till sunrise.”
Ambrosia softly rubs her mane. “I don’t know how you do that.”
“I don’t either, he’s strong, you’re a crafter, I just know when the suns coming up.” The foal giggles. “I don’t know, maybe it’s got something to do with the sun mark on my butt.”
Taking a deep breath, Full Steam looks around. He had wandered here from Apartado, about eighty kilometers to the west, just across the border in Columbia. He left there after the change on May 3rd, it took him a week to make it to Yaviz, where Ambrosia lives.
Sunny Daze has been traveling south, she was from Meteti. She saw Ambrosia, another pony, and from that moment, the two had become inseparable. It’s the dream, though, that is giving them purpose. The dream gives them cause and a goal.
“Luna called to us all.” Full Steam says, “She told us to have faith, to have strength. She told us we were ponies and this is our true form. She told us what we need to do.”
Ambrosia and Sunny Daze both nod. They both walk over and help Full Steam into the harness. He is the most likely to pass for a normal mule or horse, based on his coloring and size. Once ready, the girls climb into the wagon, closing the rear door.
Taking a deep breath, Full Steam starts walking. The wagon has to weigh well over four thousand pounds, but it feels like nothing to him. Following the dirt path, he pulls the wagon from the old junk yard and turns onto the highway.
It’s going to be a 6,700 kilometer walk, leaving everything they knew in Panama behind. Looking up at the sky, at the moon, Full Steam sighs, “I don’t know why you want us to go to Dubuque, Iowa, Princess Luna, but I trust you. If it takes me a year to walk there, I will do it, for you.”
*** Fleur ***
The alarm clock hardly starts to ring before it impacts against the steel plate, shattering. Chunks of plastic and metal fall to the floor, adding to the pile of broken parts, some tin some plastic. It’s the sixth alarm clock to give its life, and the fourth since the metal plate was placed against the wall to protect it.
With one final buzz, the lights fade from its display as the last of the life drains out of it. It hadn’t given its life in vain however. Its job is successful. Its pieces have joined its predecessors, but they do so in victory.
Fleur mumbles as she pushes herself out of bed. Standing up, she shakes herself out, looking down at the pile of debris. Opening her dresser drawer, she pulls out a new alarm clock, setting it up on the table.
Walking out of her room, Rose sits, giggling. “You broke another one didn’t you?”
“Meh.” Fleur just walks past and heads for the shower.
“You are getting better with your control. I think you’re just killing the alarm clocks on purpose.”
“Meh.” Fleur turns the water on.
Trotting over, Rose sits down and starts counting back from three.
Fleur steps into the shower, then screams, jumping out, panting hard.
“Morning.”
“Co co co co co cold…” Fleur says, shivering.
“Yep, the hot water’s been out for about an hour.” Rose says, smiling.
“You co co co could have warned me.” Fleur says, trembling.
Rose giggles, “And miss you doing that to yourself for the third time in a row?”
“Why?”
“It’s an Army barracks, hot water is limited, generally first come, first serve. So the Ranger training course gets up at five in the morning and hits the showers.” Rose says, giggling and uses her magic to warm up some water, at least she can sponge wash Fleur.
“Why are you washing me?” Fleur blinks.
“Cuz its photo day.” Rose says, cheerfully.
“Oh Celestia no!” Fleur looks around quickly and starts to make a run for the door, before getting picked up in Roses aura.
“Nope, you were the one they chose. You’re our little fashion model.” Rose says, starting to dry her off.
Flailing her legs wildly in the air in protest, Fleur calls out. “I’m not a fashion model!”
“Sorry. You are the chosen one.” Rose says, putting her down on her hooves.
Goldie pokes her head into the barracks. “FLEUR!”
Fleur blinks and hugs the little earth pony tightly, “Why are you here?”
“Oh I’m here with the photo and PR group.”
With a grumble, Fleur lets the little mare go, “Traitor, this should be Velvet getting her picture done.”
“Nope. Velvet’s not CID, OSI or NCIS, so she can’t be a spokespony for us.” Goldie says, “They tried me but all this orange just didn’t work well for a photo.”
“I’m starting to feel like I’m being lead to an execution.” Fleur said looking around nervously as she is led to the building they are using for the pictures. The Army has constructed a makeshift photo studio out of one of the offices.
There are several trailers, as well as a camper, already set up by the building. This is a professional photo shoot, and they have everything from hair stylists, makeup experts, as well as lighting experts and photographers.
Fleur looks around in horror, this is NOT CID work, it isn’t even in her job description. Quickly, the staff looks at what they have to work with. Two professional grooms get to work, helping the stylists with her mane and tail.
She stands still as they work on her. Her sister is the fashion model of the family, not her. “Why are you putting makeup on me?” She whimpers and coughs as they power her body.
“To reduce shine where we don’t want it, your coat absolutely shimmers and gleams, great for public, but for photos, not so good.” The stylist says as he works.
Narrowing her eyes, she glares at him, “If you’re related to Photo Finish…”
“Who?”
Goldie just can’t help it anymore, she starts laughing uproariously, “Let us make... zee magic!”
*** Streams ***
Jetstream pants hard, her eyes closed. She is exhausted, but can’t believe how good she feels. Her body is trembling as she finds herself dripping. She’s so hot but doesn’t care one bit.
“Wow girl, you get so worked up sometimes.” Drizzle giggles.
Jetstream moans softly as she tries to move her wings, but exhaustion prevents it, and they just flop to her side. She feels tingles all over, but at the same time, she has never felt so alive. She can’t believe that just happened.
“Lightning Dust says there’s nothing like it. Sometimes she could just close her eyes and feel herself push through.” Drizzle giggles and nuzzles Jetstream softly, “Just let it happen, then boom.”
White Lightning lands beside Jetstream and smiles. “Way to go sis, Mach 1.88. A little more work, and you might make Mach 2!”
“Let’s get you to the showers, to cool off. Then we can get you some pizza!”
Keeping her head down, Streams walks with them to the outdoor showers, “That was…”
“Yeah I know right? Blaze and Fleetfoot had me running laps till my wings were ready to fall off.” Lightning says.
“I feel like such a slowpoke.” Drizzle giggles.
“Well our dad was a unicorn so, the Force is strong in our family.” Jetstream says with a smile.
Lightning just has to facehoof at that and groans, “Streams.”
“Yeah sis?”
“We are not… Oh never mind.” Lightning just laughs and hugs her sister in the shower.
“Aww you two even shower together.” Drizzle giggles. “You are sisters.”
“I only remember glimpses.” Steams says, “And feelings.”
“You know Drizzle... You’re still dry.”
“Oh no.” Drizzle says, starting to back up, “It takes forever to dry my coat… no…”
Streams and Lightning both pounce on Drizzle, laughing, and pull her into the shower as well. Showers, in this case, the 520th have set up an open aired outside set of showers where any of the pegasi can land and wash off. A total of eight shower-heads are in the enclosed area, and it’s blocked from outside view by simple screens, much like a pool shower.
“I’ve been thinking about joining the 520th, but I don’t see how I can.” Streams says softly.
“What’cha mean?” Drizzle asks shaking herself out.
Looking at Lightning, then at Drizzle, she shakes her head. “520th is military police. Air Force police. I’m not military, I could join, but I didn’t think I’d pass with my autism.” Streams says, with a sigh.
“Yeah, point there.” Drizzle says. “The requirements for the 520th are kind of messed up for what we do. We handle emergencies, but we do it pegasus style.”
“I know, everypony’s actually going to slowly be retrained for police duties.” Lightning says.
“And that’s not something I’m likely to pass either.” Streams sighs, “Asperger’s syndrome has me working pretty bad with most people.”
“Yeah.” Drizzle said putting her wing over Streams. “Officer training, police officer training, and such is a mess for you. The problem is, the stresses we face aren’t the same as a normal officer or pilot. Running down a drone someone’s flying to close to an airport, and bringing it back for police to track is a lot different than breaking into a meth lab.”
“To be honest, I think I’m going to work with the Air Force and come up with a proper role for the 520th, and then from that, design a training program that fits our job.” Lightning says.
“Pizza time?” Streams asks, perking.
“Yes, sis, it's pizza time.” Lightning laughs.
*** Velvet ***
Waking up as a pony can still can be a little disorientating at times. Even after months of being a pony, it can still happen. Especially when you try and do the simple things, like rubbing your eyes, scratching an itch or stretching.
Waking up as a mare, who’s pregnant, now that’s a whole different game. I find myself just lying in bed, relaxing, trying to decide how I feel. What feels different? I’m not that far along. My body however is still playing games with me.
First thing I notice is Blaze has his wing over me, snuggling. Next I’ve got three little foals sleeping against my belly. The CMC has their own room, but sometimes they get lonely, or scared, for some reason. Usually it starts with Feather having a nightmare and coming in. The twins often follow soon after, to keep Feather safe.
Leaning down I gently start licking Feather's head, nuzzling her softly. It’s an old instinct, I guess, or primal, normal horses do it but I don’t know or remember if ponies do it. Placing my muzzle over her and sigh once, relaxing. “It’s okay baby. Mama’s here.”
Feather yawns softly and snuggles tighter to my belly. “Love you mama.”
Smiling softly, I sigh, it’s the weekend and there’s just no point in getting up right now. I’m just too comfy to move. Softly, I touch my horn to the Candy’s horn, then Cloudy’s. Just a moment of motherly bonding but it helps me feel so much better.
“I’ll just get up later.” I giggle and lay my head down over the foals, protectively pulling them tight to my belly.
*** Task force 70.3 ***
The typhoon is rated as a category one. Ships have been moving clear of its path and smaller boats are staying in port. The pegasi of the fleet are keeping clouds over the carrier group as well as keeping the storm going.
“Coffee?”
“Yes captain.” Blue Lagoon looks up, smiling.
Knowing she has her magic going for the storm, the Captain sits down on the floor beside her and holds the cup with a straw. It’s easier for her rather than having her split her concentration.
“You don’t need to.” Blue Lagoon says softly, though she has to lower her ears as she blushes.
“I want to. You are going above and beyond right now, so I might as well help.” The Captain says, firmly.
Huffing, Blue lays down on the floor and starts drinking the coffee. It’s warm enough that she can feel it, but cool enough so it doesn’t burn her mouth as she sips it through the straw. He also had it triple sugared and creamed, just the way she likes it.
“Tomorrow, we start breaking this up and begin the air ops.” The Captain says.
“Yeah.”
“Intel has them having Club-K missiles. Without targeting data from other boats or aircraft, they can’t fire on us. Every hour you buy us, is more lives saved.” The Captain says.
“I know, and I know they are holding ponies too.”
“It just feels wrong, knowing your magic is the lead off to a major anti-pirate offensive.” The Captain says softly.
“That’s likely going to have hundreds, or even thousands, of civilian casualties.” Flattening her ears, she pulls her tail tightly against her.
“That’s the pony in you. I would never want to change that. All I can say is, there is no good war, only good intentions. We are doing this to protect humans and ponies alike.” Nodding slowly, the Captain strokes her cheek.
Looking up at him, she finds herself blushing more. Opening her mouth to speak, she can’t find the words. Turning her head quickly to look away from him, she gets back to sipping her coffee.
*** Streams ***
Drizzle is back on the job. Major White Lightning is at the office. That leaves Jetstream alone. Honestly this isn’t a bad thing for her, it gives her time to think, to stretch her wings, and to fly.
For a girl who spent most of her life alone in her room on computers, being alone in the air isn’t a bad step. She can see things, but doesn’t have to interact with them on a personal level. Spiraling out she hits a cloud, causing it to burst into smaller tufts that dissipate quickly.
There’s no need to be cloud busting, but really, sometimes it’s fun. Leveling out again, she looks around, the sky is clear of traffic, most birds are at lower altitudes, so things are pretty free. Maybe she should try some cloud shaping.
Her cellphone starts vibrating on her leg. With a sigh, she twitches an ear to answer it, “Streams here.”
“Streams, is your transponder on?” Lightning calls over the phone.
“Umm yeah, one sec.” Checking her leg she saw the transponder is on, its lights glowing.
“Can you squawk it for me please?”
Hitting the button with her nose she waits and watches the light as it blinks.
“Yeah, okay, you’re the closest one. I have a HUGE favor to ask.”
“What is it, sis?”
“Okay, about 15 miles west of you, there’s an airplane, it’s an Embraer ERJ-175.”
“Thanks, I have no idea what that is.” Streams huffs.
Her phone vibrates again, “I just sent you a picture of it. It left Dulles International a little while ago. It’s a local commuter flight. About ten minutes ago air traffic control said the pilots started talking strange, said there was a problem with the circuit breakers. We haven’t been able to raise them since.”
“What do you want me to do?” Streams says.
“Take a look, see if they are ok? They climbed out to 26,000 feet and are holding their course, but not responding.”
Kicking in her speed, Streams climbs out to about 27,000 feet and shoots off after the jet. It doesn’t take long for her to see the plane. It’s a short hop commuter jet with twin engines, mounted one per wing. While the jet is cruising at about 500 mph, Streams is moving at close to twice that speed.
“Okay I see it. I’m above and behind it.” Streams says, rocking side to side a bit.
“Streams, you are clear to violate flight restrictions and distance requirements, get in close and see what’s going on please. We still can’t reach the aircraft.”
Diving down, Streams pulls up beside the aircraft, flying level with it, about fifty feet away. Almost right away she has a bad feeling. “Umm, Lightning, the windows are all fogged over. Even the cockpit windows have fog, or ice, on them.”
“Damn it, it’s a pressurization failure.”
Moving closer, Streams shakes her head, “I can see people inside, but they aren’t moving, they have breathing masks on but…”
“The emergency masks are only good for about ten or fifteen minutes. It’s been at least twenty since the problems started.”
“Any chance they are still alive?”
“Maybe, but there’s nothing we can do.”
“Why?” Streams asks, flying closer and putting a hoof on the window, banging on it. Neither of the bridge crew has their masks on.
“There’s no way to get the plane down to a safe altitude.” Lightning says, sighing.
“Can’t I just open the door?” Streams asks innocently.
*** 520th flight ops ***
Everyone blinks, looking at each other. The concept has never been considered before. It wouldn’t be simple, but it might be possible.
“Ok, Baker, get a pilot familiar with the EJ-175 on the line, patch them in to this. Maxwell, get in touch with the control towers, clear all flight levels on that planes path, all the way down to ground level.” White Lightning looks at the staff. “Opening the door and walking in… Seriously, it’s going to be harder than it sounds, but...”
Instantly everyone leaps into action, making calls.
*** Streams ***
“Okay sis, be careful, the door opens inwards, but you are going to get a lot of buffeting from it.”
Pulling the lever and turning it, the door pops out a bit. “Nope, door opens out.”
“Oh, lovely.”
It takes a bit of work for her to get the door to slide in the right direction, but after a few moments it is open and holding its place. Using the airstream to her advantage, she lets it push her into the plane, landing on the floor.
Wind roars into the plane, kicking up papers and anything that isn’t secured, sending it flying around the cabin. The door, however, is behind the cockpit, so as soon as she is in the galley area by the door, the air is calm.
“Ok I’m at the door to the cockpit. Um, it’s closed and there’s some kind of keypad lock.”
“Yep, we are trying to get the door code from the airline.” Lightning says.
Looking at her hind legs she shrugs. She turns her rear to the door and looks over her shoulder to aim. Three good solid kicks later with her hind legs have shattered the lock and damaged the hinges, but she now has access.
“It’s open.” Streams calls.
Lightning sounds rather surprised when she responds. “How did you do it? Did you hack the code or something?”
“I used Applejack’s Universal Key. My hind legs.”
Grabbing the breathing masks, she puts one on the pilot, and one on the co-pilot, before looking at the instruments. Yep, there are a lot more here then on her glider.
“Okay, um, what do I do now?”
A man’s voice comes over her earpiece. “You are going to need to look at the flight management system.”
Streams huffs once, “Sis, explain to him a pegasi’s flight management system.”
It takes him a few moments to run through it, but Streams manages to reset the flight altitude to 8,000 feet on the autopilot. She blinks a few times and backs away as she watches the throttles and stick start moving on their own. The plane’s computer begins dropping altitude while cutting back on engine power so it doesn’t gain speed.
“Umm, okay, now we’re dropping altitude.”
Looking over at the pilot, she gives him a few shakes to see if she can wake him up. He has oxygen and the plane is getting down to an altitude where he wouldn’t need his mask. He seems to be breathing but isn’t awake.
Spreading her wings a bit, she tilts her head as she gives him another shake. Slowly, he opens his eyes and looks up at her. Moaning softly through the mask he mumbles, “Are you an angel?”
“Nope, nor am I a princess or a queen. I don’t do that whole white face paint thing.” Stream says and backs out of the cockpit. She doesn’t want to get into a big discussion or worse, get told she has to pay for the door she broke.
“They seem to be waking up now.” Streams says over her radio.
“They should be able to land the plane. Good job sis.”
Hopping back out into the airstream, it takes a moment for Streams to right herself and catch up to the door again. Once there, she is able to force it closed and lock it. Peeling back and up, she holds flight above the airliner following it down towards the airport.
“Can I have a pizza?” Streams says, turning and heading back.
“Heck girl, after that, you can have a dozen.” Lightning calls back.
*** Goldie ***
“Wow, she’s hungry.” Goldie says, bringing in some mushroom stuffed salmon.
Natalya looks at her sternly, “She’s been though a lot, pony.”
Goldie blinks, “Really, you’re placing the species card?”
Natalya blinks and shakes her head. “Sorry not sure where that came from. That was uncalled for, we’ve all been through a lot.”
“Tell me about it. She’s going to have to see a judge about the murders.”
“It was self-defence.” Natalya says firmly.
Looking up at the griffin, Goldie nods, “I know, and warranted in at least two cases. It’s still got to go up in front of a judge.”
“So he can deem her a dangerous animal and put her down?” Natalya puffs her feathers, her tail lashes side to side like an angry cat.
“Over my dead body.” Goldie says, slamming her hoof down hard enough to crack the tile floor. “She is a victim and has suffered enough.”
“Touchy on the animal term?” Natalya says, looking down at the Earth pony.
Goldie looks at the ground and blinks as she lifts her hoof to see the damage. “Umm, apparently.”
Walking in the room they look at the little griffin. No one is sure of her name yet, even she doesn’t know. They hope it would come back to her, for now they are going with Vasilisa, her human name.
Seeing the fish, the little griffin comes out from under the bed and sits, looking up at Natalia.
“Yes, you can eat. You don’t need to hide, you are not in trouble.” Natalya says in Russian.
Sitting in front of the platter, the little griffin starts eating, watching the two. Keeping her back to the bed, she backs under it a little bit for more protection. Her eyes dart between the pony and the large griffin as she eats the fish.
Sighing Natalya looks at Goldie, “Have you got any ideas?”
“One… but you are NOT going to like it.” Goldie says, looking between the two.
“Let’s have it.”
“Very slowly move beside her and lay your wing over her. Play protective mom.” Goldie says, shaking her head. “She’s running on instincts and fear. Mothering her might turn things around.”
“But…” Natalya starts looking at Goldie.
“Same species, you’re the only one.” Goldie looks at the fledgling. “Remember she’s still twenty-five, but after what she’s gone through…”
Carefully Natalya makes a wide arc and lays down beside the fledgling, putting her wing over it. She has never really been social, per se. She’s also never really been a mothering type, so this isn’t her thing.
Looking up the griffin chirps once and moves closer to Natalya’s side. Closing her eyes she whimpers, “Thank…you.”
Looking up at Goldie, Natalya smiles, “She said, thank you.”
“Birds eye view, awake the stars ‘cause there all around you.” Goldie starts singing as she trots out. The OSI Jet was waiting for her on the runway.
*** Lightning ***
Drizzle hugs Streams, rubbing her face against the other pegasus’. She keeps her wing over Streams, holding her while she shares her pizza. Both pegasi are as close as they can be in the booth, though Streams is blushing up a storm.
“So the problem was caused by a short in the electrical system. It kept throwing the circuit breakers, and the pilots became fixated on that problem. They didn’t notice the pressurization. The short kept blanking out the screens where the warnings would come up.” Lightning says.
Streams looks up innocently, “Great explanation, if I knew what it meant.” Looking at Drizzle, she blushes more and giggles. “Sorry, again closest I got was gliders, there wasn’t any electrical systems on them, past the radio.”
“Oh then you are going to love this. National papers are running the headlines, ‘Plane and fifty passengers saved by an Angel.’ A commuter airliner suffered an in air depressurization leading to the crew becoming incapacitated. The autopilot was reset to a lower altitude and the pilots revived by what they describe as an angel.’”
Lifting her wing Streams giggles, “Well I have wings, but no halo.”
Drizzle giggles, “Local papers running a better story?”
“In a dramatic rescue, members of a special team of the US Air Force’s 520th Squadron helped in an unprecedented in-air rescue of a civilian aircraft. FAA members say the door was opened midair and a single member boarded the plane to reset the controls and revive the crew, before exiting the aircraft again.” Lightning giggles, looking at Streams. “You’re safe, no names.”
“Good I don’t wanna do interviews or such.”
Lightning cringes, “Oh then you are going to hate this. You’ve been nominated for a FAA Valor Medal.”
Streams face plants on the table, JUST missing the pizza. “I hate my life.”
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Ah, the new team embarks on their journey. Totally not drawing them ever.
Streams is a hero? Give her a pizza medal!
How long until Streams will notice she don't have any problems communicating with ponies?
this chapter is just soooooo goooooooddddd I love it.
Harts Fire
funny with a bit of drama it is just perfect.
You still need to spell Lightning right. You're making me cry, now!
6423866 fixed lol, though i had to go back and UNFIX the Lightning experts at the photo lab. LOL...
Man, talk about a life-changing experience. (More for the pilots, but a Valor Medal is pretty significant too :P)
Loved this chapter.
6424117
Civilian Award for Valor Medal (FAA Valor medal) is given to employees or pilots who illustrate great bravery and who voluntarily take personal risks that go beyond the call of duty, such as approaching or entering a burning aircraft in an attempt to rescue trapped victims.
The FAA also awards the medal to pilots who bring back planes under extreme or extraordinary conditions.
There's honestly so many versions of this Medal... Police have one, Fire has one, air force has one JUST for civilians... The award is given quite often to members of the OSI, NCIS, and such by the armed forces if the commanders feel the officer has demonstrated exceptional bravery.
Since she was under direction, and a technical employee/sub contract of OSI... Yeh... FAA can award it for saving lives like that since it was well outside of her job/training.
So, uh, Asperger's is autism spectrum. If you have Asperger's, you are autistic. If you are autistic, you might have Asperger's, or something else.
As written...
I wouldn't be able to go through that drive thru because i am in an RV
(I wouldn't be able to complete that training because of my autism)
and I can't go theough that other drive thru because I am in a Winnebago
(and I can't complete that other training because of my Asperger's)
So which is it? Autism in general is probably a better choice, because you don't have to worry as much about whether you are getting the specifics right.
6432950
She has Asperger's which is on the autism spectrum. though yes, a person with Asperger's will say they are autistic too.
while yes, they use the term interchangeably, Asperger's have a very hard time with structured learning. Their brains process information differently, and often can't process things like facial expressions or emotional context.
6433783 i understand all that, it's just funky to be swapping terms that rapidly.
Like, it would be one thing to have her use one term in one conversation, and the other in another conversation, but this was like one sentence apart
Spasibo.......(thank you in Russian)
Goldie accidentally encouraging hen behaviors. Down for that. 😇