It was naked and bizarrely generic, archetypal, the sort of thing that one might envision if one’s only knowledge of humanity came from the first paragraph of an encyclopedia entry. It cocked its bald head and studied the mud mat on the ground with flat, black eyes, its slender, hairless arms encircling its slender, hairless chest. Though Sandie stared in consternation, there was nothing of interest between its slender, hairless legs. And though its eyes were fixed on the cement, somehow she knew that the thing itself was watching her closely. Waiting.