Open Seating

Most people become a lot nicer once they're dead. The Titanic had so much room to separate us according to economic status, that to be on board, you wouldn't even know how deep the lines ran between our social classes.

On the upper decks, they expected to be served and waited on. And those on the lower decks... We just wanted to get to America.

It wasn't just money that determined who got off safely, but a bit of luck. Maybe some logic, too. There were those who still refused to believe she'd sink- even at the last minute. Especially those who noticed the band was still playing, even amidst the cries that echoed the halls.

Rich people never expected life to come for them. And certainly not death.

As some of the less advantaged guests, we didn't have much of a shot.

Our wing was gated up early on. When I brought it up a few years later, they still said it was only meant to direct us to a better exit.

Like I said, most people become a lot nicer. Some are still scum. Especially the guards. The ones who were just one half-step out of poverty. Those are the guys you got to look out for. Even now with nothing to keep us apart, they still try.

But the ones who had the most money are a hoot. They're up for anything.

The Captain comes to all of our group events. He's a real pillar of the community, that guy. The youngsters are still fun. A bit annoying, but their mischief keeps us all entertained.

We all mostly get along well down here. No class systems.

They got all sorts of sayings about money. "You can't take it with you" when you die and go to wherever people go. But even if you don't go anywhere, it still stops being useful.

Plenty of jewelry down in what's left of the ship, but it don't do any of us a whole lot of good. The only thing of value down here is time. Because we got plenty of it.

Time for community. Being together. Watching the fish.

They can't see us. That makes for a fun time. Nelda makes fun, but I enjoy my ritual of seeing if I can surprise a big ol' fish by the unexpected movement at the bottom of the sea floor.

My sister Nelda likes to meet with the ladies from first class. It's been 100 years and she's still mystified by them. What allure do they have down here, I wonder. I myself am partial to Ginny, but her husband's down here too.

But I'm not waiting for anything; not looking for change.

Besides, I suspect I won't be down here forever. We started at 1500 or so, now we're in the low hundreds. They just...evaporate.

Nelda thinks they go somewhere, but I don't know. Maybe they just go to sleep.

Just my luck I come back to the world as a fish and have to watch those scummy guards who just laze around the ocean floor all day, trying to keep the classes apart, even now.

I try to enjoy my time though. Conversations with the captain. Wild nights of drinkin with the boys. Sure, there's no whiskey, but we have the bottles and our imagination. The ladies do the same with their tea cups- the few that were found only lightly chipped.

Lately I tend to think that 110 years on this extended vacation is enough. I say goodbye to my sister Nelda every day, just in case. She says she's still got things to settle and work out. That's women for ya.

But, me? I got no thoughts of unfinished business now. Tonight at our open seating dinner there are under 300, but I suspect tomorrow there will be 299.