Dr. Scott Frasard is an autistic autism advocate who is a published author and an outspoken critic of operant conditioning approaches to change natural autistic behaviors to meet neuronormative social expectations.
By 2075, the world has changed in ways that once seemed unimaginable. Not because the future happened to us, but because people—especially autistic people—made it happen. For far too long, autistic people were treated as problems to be fixed. Therapies were built on the idea that we were broken. Education tried to mold us into something more "acceptable." Entire industries profited off convincing parents, professionals, and policymakers that autism was a tragedy. But in this future, that world is over.
Let me take you there.
The End of Pathology, the Rise of Respect
In 2075, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) and similar pathology-based systems are no longer in use. These once-dominant documents, used to categorize and pathologize people based on deviations from a constructed "norm," have been retired and now reside in the quiet halls of historical archives and museums. Young students walk past them in awe, reading plaques that explain how, once upon a time, autistic people were labeled, medicalized, and treated as societal errors to be corrected.
Now, the foundation of human understanding has been rebuilt on a profoundly different premise: that every person’s neurocognitive reality holds value and meaning. At the heart of this cultural shift is the Relational Experience Model (REM) and the Experience Variability Index (EVI), living, evolving tools that center on how individuals experience the world through their own sensory, cognitive, emotional, and relational lenses. They ask not "What’s wrong with you?" but "What do you need to thrive, and how do you relate to the world around you?" (Note: The REM and EVI are conceptual models I am currently developing)
Gone are the days of checkbox criteria and deficit-based summaries. Instead, each person crafts a dynamic identity profile, co-created with trusted allies if desired, which honors their unique ways of thinking, sensing, and engaging. These profiles guide interactions across all sectors—education, healthcare, employment, governance. They are not medical records but maps of mutual understanding.
Autistic people no longer face the pressure to fit a mold. Instead, society is shaped to accommodate and respect a broad tapestry of neuro-experiences. Identity is not a fixed category, but a garden: nurtured, tended, and allowed to change with the seasons of one’s life.
The rise of respect didn’t come quickly. It took decades of advocacy, scholarship, resistance, and truth-telling to become a reality. But once the tide turned, the world began to realize that what it had once seen as “disorder” was often a mirror reflecting its own discomfort with difference. And with that realization came the collective courage to change.
In this future, autistic people are not labeled. They are listened to. They are trusted. They are free.
Therapy Has Been Transformed
In this future, therapy doesn’t aim to alter autistic people; it seeks to amplify their well-being, on their terms. The very notion that therapy once tried to extinguish natural behaviors like stimming, or enforce eye contact as a requirement for success, is now viewed with collective remorse. That era is taught in ethics courses as a warning of how good intentions can go terribly wrong when shaped by ableist assumptions.
Therapists have become Support Architects; interdisciplinary partners trained in sensory justice, communication diversity, and relational autonomy. They are no longer seen as behavior modifiers but as co-creators of personalized, adaptive support ecosystems. Every plan begins not with a checklist of "goals," but with a conversation: What helps you feel safe, seen, and sovereign?
Sessions may happen in nature-rich spaces filled with calming textures and ambient soundscapes, or in digital environments built to match the individual’s sensory profile. Tools range from responsive lighting and sound-dampening tech to wearable AAC devices designed like jewelry. Rather than pushing compliance, the focus is on mutual thriving.
Supports aren’t imposed—they’re co-authored. Everything is done with enthusiastic consent and deep listening. Whether it’s about regulating sensory input, deepening trusted relationships, or designing unique communication pathways, the autistic person is not the subject—they’re the strategist. Their truth, their rhythm, and their inner logic are the blueprint.
In this transformed world, support isn’t about getting someone to do what society expects. It’s about making sure society knows how to meet people where they are and to honor the wholeness of how they exist in the world.
We Listen Differently Now
Autistic people are everywhere—in leadership, education, design, science, caregiving, and the arts. But even more profoundly, society has learned to listen; not just with ears, but with attention, intention, and openness. Listening is no longer defined by how words are spoken, but by how meaning is shared. Communication is now understood as a broad, relational experience, encompassing gestures, movements, rhythms, sensory expressions, assistive technologies, and silence.
Non-speaking autistic leaders co-chair national councils, contributing via AAC devices, body-based languages, and visual symbol systems that society now understands fluently. Interpreters of sensory and communicative expression are integrated into every public institution. News broadcasts include multimodal summaries designed to reflect a diversity of communicative styles, ensuring accessibility isn't an afterthought but a baseline.
From the earliest school years, children are taught that communication comes in many forms. Classrooms offer multiple modes for participation, to include painting, scripting, movement, mutual gaze, and stillness are all valid ways to connect and express. Public schools include a core subject called Sensory Epistemology, where students explore how people experience the world through sight, sound, touch, proprioception, and intuition—understanding how meaning emerges from sensory reality.
The societal default has shifted from verbal fluency to relational fluency—the ability to attune to another’s unique expressive signature and respond with care. Autistic communication, once dismissed as "disordered," is now studied in universities for its depth, coherence, and honesty. Autistic speakers are key consultants in designing digital and interpersonal communication frameworks across sectors.
Autistic ways of being are no longer "tolerated" or simply "accommodated." Instead, they are centered, respected, and celebrated as offering vital insight into the range of what it means to be human.
The Great Unmasking Changed Everything
In the 2050s, the world witnessed a seismic shift known as The Great Unmasking. This was a global movement ignited by autistic people of all support needs, communication methods, and cultural backgrounds. It began with a simple, radical truth spoken aloud in every language and modality: We are not broken. We are not yours to fix. We will no longer hide who we are.
What started as a series of digital declarations and street-level demonstrations turned into an unstoppable cultural wave. People filled city squares and virtual spaces, stimming proudly and visibly. Non-speaking leaders composed poetic manifestos through their AAC devices. Families joined in, many for the first time truly understanding the cost of forced compliance and social camouflage. Former therapists, behavior analysts, teachers, and employers stood beside their former students and clients, offering public apologies and pledging to do better.
The ripple effects were both practical and symbolic. Urban planners and architects began collaborating with autistic consultants to reimagine public spaces. Cities were redesigned to center sensory safety and autonomy: libraries with quiet pods, transit systems with customizable lighting and sound, and nature paths with textured guidance rails and multisensory wayfinding. Museums offered immersive, low-stimulation experiences. Schools dismantled behavioral management systems rooted in compliance and replaced them with consent-based relational models.
Cultural norms began to shift. Eye contact was no longer seen as a moral or emotional requirement. Stimming was understood as a form of self-expression and regulation, not something to suppress. Workplaces abolished performance reviews based on charisma or verbal polish. Masking, once required for survival, became something people unlearned with the help of community and care.
Fashion, media, and art followed suit. Clothing lines embraced texture inclusivity. Films and television cast autistic actors playing autistic roles, with each portraying a range of experiences, not just the most palatable. News outlets stopped asking autistic people to explain themselves and instead began centering autistic voices as authorities on culture, justice, and innovation. Being yourself became the new social currency, and authenticity replaced assimilation as the path to connection, leadership, and belonging.
The Great Unmasking wasn’t a single event. It was a deep cultural awakening. And it made it possible for everything else in this new world to take root.
Work and Contribution Reimagined
The collapse of extractive economic models, once powered by hyperproductivity, competition, and burnout, gave way to something more generative: Civic Contribution Cooperatives. These are not workplaces in the traditional sense, but collaborative ecosystems where people offer their time, energy, and talents in ways that align with their natural rhythms and values. There's no nine-to-five grind and no artificial performance metrics. Instead, there’s trust, mutual accountability, and collective care.
Civic Contribution Cooperatives operate on principles of neuroinclusion, ecological regeneration, and social interdependence. Contribution is defined broadly where caregiving, rest, research, artistic expression, sensory mapping, emotional support, and systems analysis are all seen as valuable forms of labor. Compensation is decoupled from hours worked and instead reflects the relational and systemic impact of one’s contribution.
Autistic people have found unprecedented belonging and purpose within these cooperatives. Many lead efforts in pattern integrity audits, systems redesign, ethics evaluation, and community-centered innovation. Their deep focus, honesty, and capacity for long-range thinking are no longer seen as quirks, but rather they are cornerstones of this new economy.
Environments are structured to support autonomy and sensory regulation. Meeting spaces include dimmable lighting, variable sound zones, stim stations, and communication boards. People participate in ways that work for them; some through asynchronous written contributions, others through visual maps or kinetic dialogue sessions.
The old pressure to "fit in"—to conform, mask, or suppress—has been dismantled. In its place is a new ethic: we fit together. Everyone's contribution is shaped to complement and enhance the whole. The system flexes to meet the individual, not the other way around.
In this world, work isn’t something you survive or do to survive. It’s something that supports your becoming. And autistic people, once forced to prove their worth, now help define what worth means.
We Remember, and We Honor
This future does not erase the past. Instead, it confronts it with reverence, humility, and resolve. Every year, on Autistic Memorial Day, communities around the globe pause to remember the lives lost and the lives diminished by the violence of misunderstanding. This day is not solemn only in tone, but deeply connective, filled with rituals that reflect both grief and gratitude.
Ceremonies begin at sunrise, as neighborhoods create memorial gardens filled with sensory-friendly flora, and wind chimes tuned to harmonic frequencies preferred by many autistic individuals. In digital and physical public squares, names are read aloud or displayed in scrolling lights, many of them previously lost in history. Some names are unknown, but still honored, represented by glowing constellations in sky projections that shine across cityscapes.
Communities gather to listen to oral histories and creative performances by autistic elders, poets, and artists. Music composed in alternative tonal systems, movement-based storytelling, and collaborative art installations reclaim forms of expression once dismissed as eccentric or disordered. Each expression is a thread in a tapestry of remembrance.
Public murals stretch across city walls, honoring resistance movements, care collectives, and the moments where society finally began to listen. Schools hold intergenerational dialogues where youth learn the true history of institutionalization, forced masking, and behavior modification programs. Survivors speak not from a place of pity but from a place of wisdom, courage, and vision.
This is not a day for allies to speak over autistic voices—but a day to amplify them, to acknowledge harm, and to commit anew. Justice isn’t performative here—it’s embodied. Institutions that once harmed autistic people fund reparative scholarships, accessibility initiatives, and community-run support networks.
Autistic elders and youth speak side by side, not as subjects of inspiration but as architects of truth. Their voices guide how we build forward: systems that are not only functional but fundamentally humane. Through remembering, we resist erasure. Through honoring, we build something better. And through our collective truth-telling, we ensure it will never happen again. This future does not erase the past; it honors the past. Every year, on Autistic Memorial Day, communities around the world gather to remember those lost to institutionalization, abuse, and neglect. We read their names. We tell their stories. We pledge to do better.
Autistic elders and youth speak together at these events. Their wisdom guides how we build systems that are just, sustainable, and affirming of every human mind.
We Didn’t Just Arrive Here. We Built This Future.
This wasn’t a passive evolution. It was a revolution of thought, of policy, of practice, of heart. It was built in pieces, often painfully, by people who dared to tell the truth when it was inconvenient, unpopular, or dangerous. Autistic people fought for this world in conference halls, in classrooms, in clinics, in courtrooms, on the streets, and inside their own homes. They wrote books, delivered keynotes, designed technologies, and crafted mutual aid networks when no one else would listen.
Allies stood beside them, slowly learning to unlearn. They challenged outdated systems, rewrote legislation, divested from harmful practices, and amplified autistic-led efforts instead of trying to lead themselves. Therapists burned their old training manuals and re-trained under autistic mentors. Teachers rewrote curricula. Parents stopped seeking cures and started listening.
There were no overnight victories. Just thousands of moments where someone said: This isn’t right. We need to do better. Thousands of moments when an autistic child was believed, a non-speaking adult was given a voice, a workplace restructured itself around one person’s sensory profile—and then realized it benefited everyone. The future was built like a mosaic. One story at a time. One breakthrough at a time. One relationship at a time.
But we’re here.
In this future, autistic people are not erased, not repaired, not reprogrammed. They are respected, supported, and followed—because we’ve finally learned that the world doesn’t need more normalization. It needs more truth. And autistic people have always carried it.
Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you enjoyed it, please do click LIKE and click SHARE to share it with your network. Be sure to check out my book, "A Reflective Question to Ponder: 1,200+ Questions on Autism to Foster Dialogue" available in paperback and eBook. My newest book, "Autism Advocacy Unleashed: A Socratic Journey to Social Justice" is also available in paperback and eBook.
Thank you!
I've just found this after listening to The Autistic Culture podcast. My hyper-phantasic mind built it and my soul resonated as it aligns with my much smaller dream.
Thank you for sharing this world. One I would love to build towards.
What a wonderful world this would be! My son is 21 and feeling the full pressure of entering the adult world with autism. It is not a welcoming place. I want what you have imagined for him. What are the possibilities that this will come to fruition in any way? What do advocates need to do to make this more part of the public consciousness and part of legislative and community efforts? My son is working to be a designer. I am hoping your story inspires him to create things with this world in mind. Shared with him. Thank you!