Corporate life in early 21st-century America is even more ruthless than it was at the turn of the millennium. Lou Arrendale, well compensated for his remarkable pattern-recognition skills, enjoys his job and expects never to lose it. But he has a new boss, a man who thinks Lou and the others in his building are a liability. Lou and his coworkers are autistic. And the new boss is going to fire Lou and all his coworkers — unless they agree to undergo an experimental new procedure to "cure" them.In The Speed of Dark, Elizabeth Moon has created a powerful, complex, and believable portrayal of a man who varies radically from what is defined as "normal." The author insightfully explores the nature of "normality," identity, choice, responsibility, free will, illness and health, and good and evil. The Speed of Dark is a powerful, moving, illuminating novel in the tradition of Flowers for Algernon, Forrest Gump, and RainMan. (Cynthia Ward)Won Nebula Award for Best Novel in 2003.
Among the people who had helped most in research for this book were the autistic children and adults and the families of autists who over the years have communicated with me — by their writings, in person, on the Internet. In the planning stages of this book, I distanced myself from most of these sources (unsubscribing from mailing lists and news groups, et cetera) to protect the privacy of those individuals; a normally spotty memory made it unlikely that any identifiable details would survive several years of noncontact. One of those individuals chose to stay in e-mail contact; for her generosity in discussing issues related to disability, inclusion, and the perception of nonautistic persons I am always in her debt. However, she has not read this book (yet) and is not responsible for anything in it.
Of the writers in this field, I am most indebted to Oliver Sacks, whose many books on neurology are informed with humanity as well as knowledge, and Temple Grandin, whose inside view of autism was invaluable (and especially accessible to me since my lifelong interest in animal behavior overlaps her expertise). Readers who are particularly interested in autism might want to look at the reading list on my Web site.
J. Ferris Duhon, an attorney with extensive experience in employment law, helped me design a plausible near-future business and legal climate as it related to employment of persons labeled disabled; any remaining legal pratfalls are my fault, not his. J.B., J.H., J.K., and K.S. contributed insights into the corporate structure and the internal politics of large multinational corporations and research institutions; for obvious reasons they preferred not to be identified more fully. David Watson provided expert advice on fencing, historical re-creation organizations, and the protocol of tournaments. Again, any errors in any of this are my fault, not theirs.
My editor, Shelly Shapiro, provided exactly the right blend of freedom and guidance, and my agent, Joshua Bilmes, sustained the effort with his belief that I could actually do this.
Questions, always questions. They didn’t wait for the answers, either. They rushed on, piling questions on questions, covering every moment with questions, blocking off every sensation but the thorn stab of questions.
And orders. If it wasn’t, “Lou, what is this?” it was, “Tell me what this is.” A bowl. The same bowl, time after time. It is a bowl and it is an ugly bowl, a boring bowl, a bowl of total and complete boring blandness, uninteresting. I am uninterested in that uninteresting bowl.
If they aren’t going to listen, why should I talk?
I know better than to say that out loud. Everything in my life that I value has been gained at the cost of not saying what I really think and saying what they want me to say.
In this office, where I am evaluated and advised four times a year, the psychiatrist is no less certain of the line between us than all the others have been. Her certainty is painful to see, so I try not to look at her more than I have to. That has its own dangers; like the others, she thinks I should make more eye contact than I do. I glance at her now.
Dr. Fornum, crisp and professional, raises an eyebrow and shakes her head not quite imperceptibly. Autistic persons do not understand these signals; the book says so. I have read the book, so I know what it is I do not understand.
What I haven’t figured out yet is the range of things
