This was hopeless, so we called it a day. I began wondering about other transportation strategies.

We passed a room occupied by a young girl. I told the doc I was surprised, as I'd read somewhere that autistic math geniuses are the result of "hyper-male" neurodevelopment. The doc raised his glasses again and looked at me with a condescending, but amiable, smile. "Yes... some theories say so... And indeed, I have to admit that most people with Asperger's syndrome are male. There are known exceptions, like this one. Her mother was a heroin addict during pregnancy. After giving birth, she was treated for drug addiction for many months. She survived, but her brain development was abnormal. Since she had no family, the government took care of her daughter. I would be hugely grateful if you could take up the economic burden this girl represents, but I don't think she will be useful to you."

A woman... this was interesting. With autism you somehow always picture a man...

I entered without saying a word. The girl was a beanpole, with light, short hair. Her skin was flawless, as if she'd just been unpacked. She was probably about 25, though it was hard to say, given her behavior: she sat on her bed staring at a white wall, and when I approached her she didn't move a muscle.

I unfolded the sheet of paper containing a prime number of 150 digits – nontrivial, but in the public domain – and held it close to her face. Her eyes took stock, then rapidly scanned it (I watched her, like I was spying on a pretty girl on the street). She looked up at me with misty eyes; her face shined with an almost imperceptible smile.

The doc stepped closer, watching over my shoulder. I asked the girl if she could see the number, and she nodded. I folded the paper away and asked her if she remembered the number. Her mouth fell open, and she whispered emotionally, "Yes...".

The doc asked me why the number was so important – he seemed the only perplexed person in the room. I asked the girl to repeat the number for me, and she started pronouncing, "Two, three, two, six...".

She recalled the whole fucking thing! I immediately told the doc I'd hire her. We shook hands in the hallway, and he explained all the fees I'd need to pay: everyday assistance, accommodation, etc. I noticed the girl staring at the wall, mumbling digits one by one.

I returned to the warehouse ecstatic, but when telling Matt what had happened, I realized I didn't even know the girl's name!