You were just on the street covered with a bunch of old newspapers from yesterday and you were just doing your own business, but of course. A portal opens.

Hello,” Nemo says as he floats down to the concrete road holding a strange book on his arm-thing which is like a tentacle with a few fingers. He doesn’t know what these random bits of paper are for, but he knows that he’s in a distant past from his perspective. “The weather is warm.”

There, he is very alien like, and you don’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to be as you’re left confused since your human brain can’t handle the concept of a complete alien being with sapience outside of science fiction.