As I walk into the East Campus apartment complex, I am quickly engulfed by three rectangular buildings. Adorned with laminate siding and painted with an array of pastel browns and blues, the newly completed housing development at Colorado College presents itself as a meticulously maintained, residential utopia.

The landscaping is sparse and uninspired, as if transplanted from a suburban industrial park. In the fading light I see red, brightly lit locks on all the doors. Conspicuously placed shiny, black security cameras line the apartment walls. Vertical lines dominate the facades of the three buildings, making the multistory apartments seem even taller and more imposing. Aside from a small group of students, the place is quiet and empty, almost eerie.

“It looks nice,” said third-year student Austin Thies. “But it feels really sterile and kind of out of place.” Thies and a few of his classmates sit on large plastic recliners around a fire ring near the south end of the complex. The warmth of the gas fire is tempered by a cage of fake metallic logs. As I continue past the students, I am struck by just how out of place and extensively artificial the complex feels. As I turned to leave, Thies stopped me to say, “I hope they read whatever your writing. They’ve got to change something.”