The Voice of Titanic

I was supposed to be unsinkable.

I was so excited and ready to go! I had been eagerly anticipating my maiden voyage for months now. But now everything was ready. All things were in place. My interior was luxury itself, opulent and divine. The grand central staircase and finely chiseled clock at the center of the landing was my crowning glory. Or maybe it was my huge steamer smokestacks. Or, perhaps, the beautiful china waiting to serve my many passengers. My decks were large, my engine room primed, and my crew was a fine one. I was especially proud of my captain, Edward Smith. He boasted quite a marvelous beard and mustache. Yes, I had much to be proud of. I was unsinkable.

I couldn't wait to take to the sea! She called to me in such alluring tones. The moment I truly sailed away from Great Britain with all my passengers in tow, the moment I felt my bow cutting the smoothest swathe through the cold Atlantic waters, feeling the wind cut against my great hull...it was the purest joy I knew.

I also enjoyed listening to the conversations that went on throughout my decks. Each class had their own deck, and the different patterns of speech, dialects, and topics of conversation drew my interest. I especially glowed deep in the embers of my coal fuel when anybody praised "Titanic." I was proud of the name, too. It signalled greatness. An epic promise of all my voyages to come. The trip to New York City was only the beginning of my adventures.

Oh, the life I felt running through me on every level via the blood and breath of each and every human being aboard! I rejoiced in providing them the vessell they required to reach America.

I wondered about America. In less than a week, I would get my first view of her shores. I heard stories of that country from passengers, but of course I was excited to see it for myself. I dreamed, too, of other journeys I would make. I planned to make many, of course. I had been well built. I would be in use for hundreds of years. And I had heard it myself, so that's how I knew. I was unsinkable.

Nothing was beyond my reach. I was truly, well, Titanic.

So, what happened?

Why was that iceberg there?

Why couldn't I miss it?

I mourn as I waste away at the bottom of the sea. All my dreams, all my joys, disintegrating like my rusted, bacteria-eaten hull. I cannot answer why my fine crew could not steer me from the path of the iceberg that mortally damaged my beautiful side. I cannot answer why my maiden voyage was also my last. I cannot answer why so many people met their deaths in the freezing arms of the Atlantic that awful night. It is not for me to guess. I am only a ship.

And yet, somehow, I bear the weight of a preventable tragedy. If it were not for me, all those souls would still be alive. I was supposed to be unsinkable.

But now I lay here in pieces, scattered across the ocean floor. I cannot see the sun. I cannot feel the wind. I will never see America. My beautiful interior, my grand exterior, my steamers, that glorious staircase...those things I was so proud of and gave me cause to glow and speed over the waves just a little bit faster...they were gone. And my fine crew, my captain, my many faithful passengers who all had dreams of their own...they were gone.

It was supposed to be unsinkable.

But as I lay here, far below the ocean surface, I have forever to reflect on the short but illustrious life I'd had. I am only a ship, but if I know anything about anything, it's that not even the greatest vessel of her time is invincible.

And maybe that's how this world works. Maybe nothing created by even the strongest of ordinary men is truly unsinkable.