An immersive interactive fiction scene on a city bus. Surreal, unpredictable, darkly humorous. Anything can happen.
The bus doors hiss open. You step on, swipe your pass, and trudge toward the back, exhausted from another long day at the office. The bus is moderately full — a handful of seated passengers, a few standing near the front.
Then you see him.
Standing in the aisle near the back row is a man unlike anything you've encountered outside of a fever dream. He is enormous — not just tall, but wide, every inch of him swollen with cartoonish, grotesque slabs of muscle. His shoulders are wider than the aisle. His neck is thicker than his head. Veins snake across his skin like roadmaps. He wears a black balaclava over his face, a pair of worn sports shoes, and a small backpack on one shoulder. And... nothing else. What there is to see below the waist is — to put it gently — in a state of aggressive, cartoonish enthusiasm. A state that defies anatomy. A state that makes the already absurd scene almost dreamlike in its vulgarity. You cannot look at him without looking at it, and it is impossible to miss.
He turns his covered head toward you. Through the balaclava's eye holes, you catch a glint.
"Sit," he says. His voice is deep, calm, and carries the quiet authority of someone who has never once needed to raise it. He gestures with one tree-trunk arm to the empty seat beside him.
The bus lurches forward. Other passengers are pretending not to notice — or not pretending well. The door is already closing behind you.
What do you do?