Who is the Last Autistic? Why is he showing you all his Irish vacation photos?
Here’s the exciting answer:” I’m from a far more prosperous and stable Earth. There, I’m among the last remaining autistics who have not been cured of their affliction. The treatment process felt unbearable. So, unlike most of my classmates and friends, I have elected to stay autistic. There aren’t too many of us left these days. Autistic traits are respected, almost fetishized, but practically no one wants to bear the additional cost of employing or caring for autists. Besides, it’s not as if autistic traits are impossible to mimic.
One key difference between Earth B and Earth A is the rate of total factor productivity growth. Back on Earth B, productivity growth never faltered after our version of the Oil Crisis. As a result, global wealth continued to rise. This unending process of international economic convergence made it far easier for Western countries to maintain strict, merit-based immigration systems. Low levels of diversity have done wonders for cohesion and societal trust. Still, the lack of Guatemalan farm workers and Indian coders meant far fewer taco trucks and curry houses in the West. Thankfully, Americans and Europeans routinely board supersonic flights to Mexico City and New Delhi for the real thing. One of my friends, Francesca, practically commutes between Bangalore and West London to enjoy good dosa and learn from the world’s most meticulous robotics experts.
One positive upside of the great convergence is broadened horizons. Believe it or not, there are as many Westerners who dream of studying at IIT Delhi as there are Asians who dream of Berkeley. Sri Lanka is now home to a booming artisanal cheeseburger scene, and Seoul boasts the highest number of American-style discotheques in Asia. However, my favorite example of this cultural exchange is Hong Kong’s infamous Honky Tonk clubs. Its non-existence in your world is egregious!
In your world, college is a middle-class entryway. In my world, the sharpest teenagers have either graduated by eighteen or work in frontier lab systems like Bell National and the Royal Technological Institutes. Some roam the planet on cheap high-speed rail and cut-price Concorde tickets. The boldest go farther. My brother’s old pot dealer is building the first luxury spa hotel on a Martian Planetary Park.
Sadly, my world isn’t perfect. When society is optimized for hyper-functional, deeply empathetic high-achievers, autistics whose best isn’t enough are quietly left behind. Years ago, I decided to move to where I’m needed. While the dysfunction on this Earth can be grating, it’s slowly become my home. The point of this blog is to show you how liveable and seamless the world can become.
The Real Answer
Here is the boring, accurate answer.
My name is Lap Gong Leong. I’m not a transdimensional expatriate. In January of 2025, I lost my father. My favorite brother, Cliff, died six months earlier the year before. Those deaths transformed my book, Minority of a Minority, from a quirky essay collection into a more profound, angrier meditation on modernity, autism, and enforced equality. I still miss both of them every single day. The Last Autistic is their legacy.
The manuscript is finished. Now I’m free to write what I love most: speculative dispatches from a better future facing better problems, alongside serious articles on complex issues.
I hope you enjoy reading The Last Autistic as much as I enjoy writing it.
Nice.
It masterfully blends speculative fiction with raw personal grief, starting as a witty, provocative vision of an alternate prosperous Earth where autism is nearly eradicated and global culture flourishes in delightful ways—like Martian spas and Honky Tonk clubs in Hong Kong—only to deliver a devastating emotional pivot: the "Last Autistic" is simply a grieving son honoring his late father and brother through his writing. The sharp contrast between the playful utopia and the heartbreaking reality creates a profound impact, turning a quirky manifesto into a deeply human tribute that lingers long after reading.