by catherinefauver

As you walk across the sidewalk of Athletic campus at 12:30AM on a Friday night, stepping over potholes and empty Truly cans, you feel almost invincible. The horde of ever-present skaters in front of Harris Millis that make up half of all thirsty Yik Yak posts, the horde of drunk freshman girls going to a frat party with the largest population of 5’7 men on the east coast. The world seems to glimmer with opportunity. But, if you wander too far from the loving arms of the brutalist nightmare that is the Living Learning complex, you just might find yourself in front of a behemoth. A nightmare which would send Wellness kids sprinting back to call their RAs mommy. Redstone Lofts.

For just around $1,000 a month, whatever is left of the juniors who couldn’t find off-campus housing lurk in the halls of a building that looks like it displaced at least 15 local communities. The disturbingly blue and yellow walls house what can only be described as the most liminal of spaces— a place for people who just didn’t know what a lease was until it was too late. As soon as you pass the playground for Redstone kids (that one statue) you’re already too far gone. You have been devoured by fake gentrification. The entire building is curved. Not just the outside. All of the halls are part of some twisted half circle. Trying to walk down them is somehow a more disorienting experience than being on literal acid. Each of the door numbers is bathed in sickly fluorescent light that might just be cancerous but that is the least of your worries. The ceilings are higher than a 90 pound frat pledge on an edible. If you look close enough, you can see the mom from Hereditary in one of the corners, but she’s just as lost as you are. Nothing escapes Redstone Lofts. 

When you officially feel as if you’ve become one of the Loft’s permanent victims, the elevator digests you. Stepping into it feels almost like an escape, like you’ve made it through the horror of the hallways and have finally found a reprieve. But then, the doors close, and you find that you are even more trapped than you were before. Four completely white walls surround you. You turn, spinning, desperately trying to find where the elevator stops and reality begins, but it is to no avail. But then, a voice. Who’s there? It is God. But wait, why is God in this elevator? That’s right. God is dead and Redstone Lofts killed her. Run all that you want, you will find yourself back in the elevator. Redstone Lofts is eternal.

Categories: oct. 12, reflections, vol 25