A Great Mind, an Uncertain Path

In the last day or so, I’ve found myself thinking about a friend from my school days.

I don’t know why he’s been on my mind, but I can’t help but wonder where he is now and if he ever found his way.

Let’s call him Dan.

Dan was quiet, kindhearted, and incredibly bright.

We didn’t spend a lot of time together, in or out of school, but when we did, there was a connection, a mutual respect.

Dan was autistic.

And by that, I mean genuinely autistic.

These days, “autism” seems to be thrown around as if it’s some trendy label, but for Dan, it was a serious part of who he was, shaping his world in ways that were both extraordinary and challenging.

I never knew the exact name of his condition, but if you weren’t looking closely, you might think he was just a bit introverted.

That’s why he fit in at a regular primary and secondary school.

On the surface, Dan was just another kid.

But inside, he was something else entirely—a hyper-intelligent mind that could make you feel out of your depth if you got too close.

I remember in primary four, our teacher was amazed because Dan was flying through Maths textbooks at a pace she 'hadn’t seen before'.

And this teacher wasn’t one to exaggerate.

There were plenty of other moments like that, where if you were paying attention, you’d see that Dan wasn’t like the rest of us.

We sat next to each other in several classes during the early years of secondary school.

It only reinforced what I already knew—Dan had a gift.

Not just for math, but for anything involving patterns, logic, or structure.

But he had his struggles too.

Socially, he found it tough to express himself. He was an incessant nail-biter, and you could tell he was often uncomfortable sitting still.

Later in school, he became obsessed with Rubik’s cubes.

Actually, a small group of us were, and I was one of them, though I was the slowest to learn.

Dan, on the other hand, was in his element.

It made sense—it was the perfect puzzle, a feedback loop of patterns and solutions that suited his mind.

Towards the end of our last year at school, Dan lost his mum. One night, he found her unconscious when he got home from school.

I don’t know what happened after that, but I do know she didn't make it.

He left school prematurely, and I didn’t see him for about 18 months.

One day, on my way to work, I saw him at the train station. He was almost unrecognizable—long hair, a full beard.

I almost walked past him, but I did a double-take because I saw him working on a Rubik’s cube. There couldn’t be another person in Stevenston who would be doing that at a train station.

Sure enough, it was him. He didn’t acknowledge me, just kept turning the cube, completely engrossed in his own world.

Looking at him, it was clear he was struggling, trying to cope with something heavy. And knowing Dan, that Rubik’s cube was part of his way of dealing with it.

That was about seven years ago. I haven’t seen him since.

Dan had a strong mind, and I hope, wherever he is, he’s found a way to put it to good use.