The Thermostat Wars – A Short Story

It had taken two weeks for him to lose the manners he’d gained over 18 years of his parents’ watchful upbringing. He had always been taught to treat his fellows with respect, and he always had. For 18 years, he had obeyed the Golden Rule, had considered how his actions impacted the world around him. It had taken only two weeks for him to realize that, when it came to the thermostat, all was fair and rules didn’t apply.

Constantine had arrived at college fresh-faced and eager to make friends. He’d actually been delighted to be shepherded into what the Resident Assistants, or RAs, called a “suite.” The elegant term was a catchall for living situations throughout the Freshman Village. For most, though, a “suite” was a pair of dormitory rooms connected by a bathroom. It was impossible to think of the “suite” in an unironic manner. It was the farthest thing from the luxurious apartment that one imagines when one hears the word “suite”. Each bedroom held bunk beds and desks for two students; hence, each suite housed four. Constantine could hardly contain his excitement as he’d strained and forced his suitcase up the fourteen flights of stairs to his suite. It hardly bothered him that he would have to make this strenuous journey another five times because the elevators were out of order. (Over-taxed and underprepared for the horde of move-in day families, the elevators had simply given out altogether. Many of the RAs were to wish that they could do the same before the day was out).

A “suite”! He was living in a “suite”! Oh, wonder of wonders! As an only child, he’d never experienced sharing a room with other kids. He couldn’t contain his excitement. Here he was, on his way to a “suite”! It would be a built-in family at college, his very own band of brothers. He pictured sunny days studying on the quad, returning to his home (the “suite”), smiling, laughing, talking with his fellow roomies. Visions of snowball fights, of sports games, of poetry slams with his “suite”-mates – his brothers! – danced in his head. (Here he was forced to rest a moment, and wipe a sweaty forehead with his palm, gasping for air. Enthralled by his thoughts, he had neglected to breathe properly as he heaved his suitcase up the stairs).

Constantine’s parents had gone to park their van, so he was alone as he reached his floor and fumbled for the door key to his “suite”. He was attending college on the East Coast but had taken a cross-country road trip from Nevada with his parents. Bags and suitcases were already stacked outside the door of his room. It appeared his roommate had already arrived.

As he stepped over the threshold of the room, he felt the air temperature shift colder. He could feel the air temperature drop several degrees as he heaved his suitcase inside.

Being from Nevada, Constantine was only somewhat used to the cold. He certainly wasn’t expecting the temperature to shift so cold as he stepped through the door. He pushed the suitcase under the bed, shivering, before returning down the stairs again to trek his luggage up bit by bit.

That night, his roommate Luuk returned, bringing the last of his luggage inside the little room. Constantine was crouched on his cold bunk bed, bundled in all his bedding, teeth chattering. He was so cold he could barely introduce himself properly.

“Met our ‘suite’-mates, have you?” asked Luuk, wearily, “I’m Luuk.”

It was then that the Thermostat Wars began. Luuk explained that a single thermostat controlled the temperature of the whole “suite”. Their “suite”-mates had moved in the day before. Apparently they enjoyed living as if inside a refrigerator freezer. The temperature had remained ice-cold since. Luuk had tried to sneak the temps up a few degrees, but the suitemates always noticed and dragged the thermostat back down.

Constantine rose to his feet, aghast. “I refuse to take this sitting down!”

He stormed into the empty bathroom which connected the two “suites” and, coldly, turned the thermostat up – from 65˚F to a sharp 85˚F.

The next few days were terribly mercurial. Their suitemates, Ricardo and Ashish, woke up sweating and furious. Luuk and Constantine returned from their first day of classes to a frigid room. Ashish and Ricardo came back from dinner to find their dorm sweltering. Constantine and Luuk woke the next morning to chilly sheets and a wintry bedroom.

The violent, literal cold war continued for two long weeks. It was only when all four of them were abed with colds (probably a result of the aggressive temperature changes in a new environment) that they realized, more or less simultaneously, that the Thermostat Wars had to end.

They met on the college quad to discuss terms of a truce. Ricardo was still sniffing.

“Look,” began Ashish, just as Luuk started, “See here…” They both stopped politely.

“Peace is underrated,” said Constantine.

The thermostat was set to a fair 75˚F. Sometimes, Luuk and Constantine wore layers. On other days, Ricardo and Ashish pulled off their sweaters. And, for the next four years, they were inseparable, and, just as importantly, homeostatically balanced. 🥸