Steve was your typical Harvard first-year. He planned on studying economics and had never felt freer now that he could hide his grades from his parents. He was in love with a girl who lived above him in Canaday, but he couldn’t remember if her name was “Chloe” or “Zoe” and was too scared to ask her. The craziest thing Steve did in high school was disable his Life360 so he could secretly get picked up by a girl at 11:00 p.m. They made out in the backseat of her Volkswagen Jetta at the town pool parking lot. He got mono three weeks later. Now, at Harvard, Steve was determined to make these next four years the “craziest years of his life.”
Steve was put in a suite with two other boys who were basically carbon copies of him. His roommates, Kevin and Tyler, shared the same goals of wanting to be more spontaneous and try new things, and make the most of their “college experience.” Despite these sentiments, the first month of school went by, and the new things they tried were more along the lines of comping the Venture Capital Group instead of going to parties. Steve was getting to the point in the semester where the enhanced Wednesday brain break in Annenberg was the most exciting part of his week. He was craving that rush, but his needs were not being fulfilled. He never did drugs, and the drunkest he’d ever been was off of three Bud Light Platinums. His boredom and stress were bubbling up and needed to be released.
On a random Tuesday in October, Steve got an email that a package had arrived for him. He was puzzled as he wasn’t expecting anything from his family or Amazon. He came out of the Science Center with the mysterious package that weighed about 10 pounds and was in the shape of an almost perfect square. Steve made it back to his dorm and was eager to open it up.
Upon ripping the package open, Steve let out a loud, “What the fuck?” He was standing face to face with an…air fryer. Kevin and Tyler ran into Steve’s room, curious as to what made Steve drop the f-bomb (he rarely cursed). Kevin saw the air fryer on top of Steve’s nightstand.
“Yo, bro, why did you order that?” Kevin asked.
“I swear I didn’t. It just showed up,” Steve tried to explain.
“Okay, well, you know you’re not allowed to have that in here. You have to mail it back to wherever it came from,” Tyler added.
It was a no-brainer. Steve didn’t order the air fryer; it was against the Harvard fire code to have one in the room. He was going to send it back. But, deep down, something was compelling him to keep it.
“I know. I’ll get it out of here,” Steve told the boys, unsure of how truthful his own words were.
The next day, Steve went through the motions of his usual schedule. In a rush from one class to another, he made a turkey and cheese sandwich and placed it in a to-go box. He ate half and saved the other half for later. When Steve finally returned home after his long day, he was startled to see the big, black box in his room that he had forgotten about.
The air fryer sat there, staring at Steve, teasing him. Steve knew better than to give in, but then he remembered the remaining half of his sandwich in his bag. Steve approached the air fryer apprehensively.
“What’s the harm in air-frying just half a sandwich?” Steve asked himself. Surrendering to his whim, Steve unraveled the air fryer cord and plugged it into his desk outlet. Shiny buttons came on as he slowly put the sandwich onto the frying rack. After eight minutes, the alarm went off. Steve opened the air fryer. A work of art emerged out of this magical box. Steve found his gaze resting upon a hot, cheesy sandwich that made his eyes sparkle with wonder. Steve’s pupils dilated as he brought the sandwich to his mouth and took a bite. “Oh, fuck,” was all he could think as the perfectly warm, crispy sandwich rolled around his tongue and down his throat.
Steve spent the rest of the week distracted. He sat through lectures physically, but mentally, he was somewhere else. Steve was daydreaming about the air fryer. He could feel the grooves of the frying rack and hear the sounds of the buttons. A chill would run down Steve’s spine each time his mind wandered to the air fryer’s perfect curves. He imagined going to Trader Joe’s and buying hash browns, pizza bagels, and chicken nuggets just to shove into his air fryer and then his mouth. He wanted to put so many things into that air fryer—so many things. To Steve, it seemed that the opportunities were endless. He knew it was wrong. It wasn’t just bad, it was against policy. But if it was so wrong, why did it feel so right?
Eventually, Steve started skipping his classes. His roommates grew concerned. They realized they hadn’t seen or heard from Steve in three days. Kevin and Tyler knocked on Steve’s door. There was no answer. They knocked again, banging louder and louder. Still no answer. They grew more worried and decided to open the door.
Inside Steve’s room, the lights were off, and they could barely make out the shape of a person sitting on the carpeted floor.
“Steve?” Kevin asked, not sure of what he was seeing.
Steve was rocking back and forth on the floor. The heat was blasting, but he was shivering. Specks of sweat beaded his forehead. Right next to him sat the air fryer. Kevin and Tyler tried to make out what Steve was saying, but he kept mumbling to himself. It sounded like he was trying to say, “More mozzarella sticks,” between every twitch. Steve continued pressing random buttons on the air fryer so much that it seemed like he was trying to communicate Morse code.
“Steve, you need help,” said Tyler.
But Steve couldn’t hear him. His mind was blank. All that consumed him was the air fryer. Kevin and Tyler shared concerned glances and retreated from the horrifying sight.
The following morning, Steve’s parents came to pick him up. Kevin and Tyler had told their proctor that Steve wasn’t doing well. They figured it would be best for Steve to return home and find himself again. His parents were devastated and shocked to hear the news because Steve had always been their perfect child.
“WHO SENT THIS AIR FRYER?” shouted Steve’s mom, demanding answers for how her baby boy became so broken. No one had an answer for her. In the same week, the dean sent an email reminding undergraduate students of the rules of dorm appliances and the consequences of hiding them in their rooms.
Steve never made it back to Harvard. It took a long time for him to fight his air fryer demons. Shortly after Steve left, Kevin and Tyler decided to throw the air fryer into the Charles River. To this day, it sits at the bottom of the river, waiting for Steve to turn it on again.
Ilana Feder ’26 (ilanafeder@college.harvard.edu) writes Arts for the Independent.