Silhouetted against this sky was a young man with short hair. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt and looked like a surfer. I couldn’t see his face clearly in the failing light, but even so, watching the way he moved, I thought there was something familiar about him. “We got any floodlights out there?” Charley said. He was walking around, holding his bowl of pasta, still eating.
How did it know he was eating pasta? Do they have a way of seeing inside the building?
