But when people point out the bias of AC settings in office buildings—especially when women point it out—they’ve often been mocked for being overly sensitive. After the journalist Taylor Lorenz tweeted that office air-conditioning systems are sexist, a blog in the Atlantic wrote, “To think the temperature in a building is sexist is absurd.” But it’s not absurd. What’s absurd is reducing workplace productivity by using precious fossil fuels to excessively cool an office building so that men wearing ornamental jackets will feel more comfortable.

I need to get used to feeling a bit warmer. It’s the only future for us. When I was a kid in Florida, it seemed natural to me to grab a sweatshirt before heading to the movie theater. Air-conditioning, like so much else in the Anthropocene, was a kind of background hum that reshaped my life without my ever thinking about it. But writing to you from the early hours of 2021, entering a movie theater at all feels wildly unnatural. What’s “natural” for humans is always changing.

I am immensely grateful for air-conditioning. It makes human life far better. But we need to broaden our definition of what constitutes climate control, and quickly.

I give air-conditioning three stars.

STAPHYLOCOCCUS AUREUS

YEARS AGO, I acquired an infection in my left eye socket caused by the bacteria Staphylococcus aureus. My vision clouded, and my eye swelled shut. I ended up hospitalized for over a week.

Had I experienced the same infection anytime in history before 1940, I would’ve likely lost not just my eye but my life. Then again, I probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to acquire orbital cellulitis, because I would’ve died of the staph infections I had in childhood.

When I was in the hospital, the infectious disease doctors made me feel very special. One told me, “You are colonized by some fascinatingly aggressive staph.” Only about 20 percent of humans are persistently colonized with Staphylococcus aureus—the precise reasons why are not yet clear—and I am apparently one of them. Those of us who carry the bacteria all the time are more likely to experience staph infections. After marveling at my particular staph colony, the doctor told me I wouldn’t believe the petri dishes if I saw them, and then called my continued existence a real testament to modern medicine.

Which I suppose it is. For people like myself, colonized by fascinatingly aggressive bacteria, there can be no hearkening back wistfully to past golden ages, because in all those pasts I would be thoroughly dead. In 1941, Boston City Hospital reported an 82 percent fatality rate for staph infections.

I remember as a child hearing phrases like “Only the strong survive” and “survival of the fittest” and feeling terrified, because I knew I was neither strong nor fit. I didn’t yet understand that when humanity protects the frail among us, and works to ensure their survival, the human project as a whole gets stronger.

Because staph often infects open wounds, it has been especially deadly during war. Near the beginning of World War I, the English poet Rupert Brooke famously wrote, “If I should die, think only this of me: / That there’s some corner of a foreign field / That is for ever England.” Brooke would indeed die in the war, in the winter of 1915—not in some corner of a foreign field, but on a hospital boat, where he was killed by a bacterial infection.