It is 2:30 in the morning and Architecture Hall is lit up like a Christmas tree. Out in The Link, groups of undergrads are taking advantage of the multi-story atrium to construct two, three, and four story towers out of nothing other than paper and masking tape (in various coordinated colors). Two girls are studying on the third level, east, balcony. The custodians are cleaning the floors in The Gallery. The Barn is bright and cheerful with industrious freshmen. The Corral still displays the fruits of Friday's crit. The Attic is a gloomy and quiet, but for the rhythmic tapping of keyboards and clicking of mice, the faint strains of music filtering out of headsets attached to thesis students. The Stacks show sporadic movement and occasional chatter. The printer in the GIS Lab hums as it works. And in the War Room, five graduate students are plotting the subjugation of Denver by one giant, endless, big box store gone mad.
So, in other words, everything is normal.