She sat on the black leather couch in front of mine. She had a slightly odd hairdo, with her red, short-cropped hair piled to one side of her head, and a Macbook. She, like me, was seventeen, and her name was Anna.

Her twin brother had been diagnosed of autism at a very young age, and her interaction with him was what had led to her great interest in the disorder. She had acquired an internship here, at the MIT Media Labs, and currently had the task of maintaining an up-to-date database containing all important papers that had been published about autism.

"So," she said, looking up at me as she took a short break from work, "where are you from?"

I shifted slightly on my own couch, making an embarrassing squeak as I did so. Should I tell her? Yes? No? How will she react?


"I'm from..." I began. Yes. No. Yes. No. YesNoYesNoYes. "From Pakistan."

"Oh?" she said, eyeing me. Reflexively, I stiffened a little bit. "That is so cool!"