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            Steven hated the smell the most.  That roiling, seething stench of humanity that burned his nostrils.  He could, if he tried hard enough, block it out by sheer force of will, but that left his other senses exposed, and he was not prepared for that.  The sights and the sounds were too much.

            He had never had to take the bus before, and he hated it immediately.  Man was not meant to live this way, crammed into a rectangular death machine like mortars pushed into the gapping maw of a cannon.  He hoped he himself could be shot out of this place, he did not care where he landed, it would be better than here.

            The craft stopped again, and another being entered.  Another Malebranche sent to torment Steven in this circle of hell.  One of these foul creatures chose to sit down right next to him, despite the fact that there were plenty of open seats elsewhere.  This indeed was his own personal torment, his own Inferno, Steven thought.  This, corpulent old woman next to him offering him hard candies as if they were religious relics, she was his cellmate.  That quiet sentinel driving the bus was the jailer.  That vile man did not speak, nor even look back.  He only drove on.

            20 more stops, Steve, told himself continuously.  Then he would be free.  He just needed to make it until then.  He comforted himself in the tale of Orpheus who, like himself, ascended hell and emerged unscathed.  But he knew this was his punishment, all of this; the unkempt man panhandling for change without a care in the world, the screaming, possessed enfant, whose hellish cries rang out to everyone except apparently the mother, this was what he deserved.  He would never again fail to pay a parking ticket, he decided.  He would gladly pay any fine in the world if it would save him from this nightmare in which he was trapped.