In the middle of nowhere (nowhere being some random set of coordinates that just happened to come together in the Sonoran Desert) a large, pimple-like protrusion could be seen from outer space. Telescopes outside the international space station, hovering an insignificant percentage of a light year above earth, spotted the thing. From space, it looked like a horrendous blemish—a combination of an inflamed, gray raise of the skin in the desert at the base; a blackhead, abscessed and purulent, rising from a deep pore in the sand.
DARPA and SETI had teamed up to surround the thing on the ground with tape, fencing, and wire. Government employees sported biohazard protective gear—medical spacesuits with translucent helmets, gloves, and so on. On the ground, the image was similar, but one thing was clear; it was a giant head.
And although the satellites had picked up this image no longer than a day ago—there existed no physical signs that this was as recent an emergence as it seemed.
There was no dust settling in the air. The head had not risen rapidly from the sand, or if it had, the atmosphere around it would lend no legitimacy to such a claim. It must have been there thousands of years, but it seemed newly sculpted.
Its slick, metallic base was a dull gray. Saggy, gill-like jowls fell and flapped in layers, at least one hundred feet above the neck’s base. Blending with these jowls, an-almost-jawline could be noted. There was a gradual shift in color until the head was almost solidly the shade of the desert sand surrounding it. A large mouth-like protrusion (though some might call it a gaping hole) was set in the chin. Open wide, it displayed large, glistening fangs—black at the root that gradated to brown, then yellow at the pointy ends. These fangs were large and viper-like—alien to the structure they were rooted in. Those, and the large, dangling uvula set at the back of its mouth. The dangly-growth looked like a candida infected host of the herpes virus. It, much like the jowls, swayed with the wind. The head lacked ears, but there were two cavernous holes where a nose should exist.
The most unsettling feature of the eighth wonder of the world were a set of large monochromatic eyes; the deepest black. They were opaque with a glass-like sheen. Despite the watery glint, they appeared devoid of life.
Behind those abysmal globes, a slight purple glow cast a light below the hairless brow.