A/N: While this story is heavily based on the Cameron movie, I've decided to take some liberties with the plot. One of those liberties is this chapter, which is almost entirely original. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Three

Futility

Friday, April 12, 1912

The third class common area was bustling with activity. Astrid's eyes scanned the crowd of people with mild interest. They were a sampling of countless different ethnicities and cultures, all thrown together with one common goal: to reach America. Unlike those traveling first or even second class, who were merely on vacation or returning home from a trip, these were immigrants who had left behind everything that was familiar and known in order to start a new life in the New World. There were English, a lot of Irish that had boarded at Queenstown the day before, a smattering of Scandinavians, even a handful of Asians all gathered together. A hundred voices speaking in various different languages rang out, creating a din that made it impossible for Astrid to even hear herself think.

"You still thinking about that guy?" Riley asked, raising her voice in order to be heard over the ruckus.

Astrid whipped her head around to look at her and scowled. "Of course not," she snapped, and this was mostly true. Sure, she'd wondered idly who he was and why he'd seemed so forlorn – she suspected the woman she'd seen had something to do with that – and even fantasized briefly about meeting him again. But she'd quickly shaken herself of these thoughts, knowing they would only upset her. Besides, she knew there was no point to the fantasies. He was living the good life up in first class, whereas she was in steerage. Granted the third class accommodations aboard the Titanic were by the far the best in the shipping industry, but they were still nothing compared to the luxury of first class. That was simply a world she didn't belong to.

Her musings were interrupted by a yell of, "Rat!" followed immediately by several women screaming. Astrid looked around and saw people scrambling to get out of the way as two young men chased the offending rodent around the room, leaping over benches and bobbing through the crowd. As it approached the spot where she and her friends sat, Astrid pulled her feet up, more to keep them from getting stepped on than out of fear over the rat itself. Terry, on the other hand, let out the most un-masculine shriek she'd ever heard and leapt onto the bench, eyes wide with terror. Riley shook her head exasperatedly and Astrid laughed.

"Didja see it, Finn? Where'd it go?"

Astrid looked over at the owner of the voice, a well-built young man of about twenty with untidy black hair. He was holding a shoe in his upraised hand, clearly a weapon meant for the rat that had disappeared. He was speaking to another man, a stocky figure with blond hair plastered to the top of his round face. Seeing that he only wore one shoe, Astrid figured he'd sacrificed its mate to the cause.

The first boy glanced up and met eyes with Astrid. He blinked and then grinned widely, a cocky expression that made he want to roll her eyes. "Well hello there," he said. "My name's Sven. Sven Jorgenson. And who might you two lovely ladies be?"

Astrid arched an eyebrow. "Astrid Hofferson," she replied in her best you-don't-want-to-even-think-about-messing-with-me voice.

It was hard to tell whether or not Sven got the hint. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom briefly before turning to her companion, who introduced herself, "Riley Thorston. And this idiot…" She gestured at her twin, who was still cowering in fear of the missing rat. "…is my brother Terry."

"Pleased to meet you," said the stout boy courteously. "I'm Finnick Ingerman. Call me Finn and please spare me the fish jokes. I've heard them all."

Astrid grinned warmly. "You've got it."

"Did you find the rat?" Terry asked nervously, his eyes scanning the floor for the rodent.

Sven looked at Terry with a befuddled expression. "Dude, it's just a rat," he said.

Terry suddenly seemed to realize how silly he looked, for he clambered off the bench and sat down again. "Of course it is," he said brusquely. "I knew that."

Astrid and Riley glanced at each other and looked away quickly. The urge to burst into laughter was overpowering. Astrid's gaze fell instead on Sven, who suddenly had a devilish gleam in his eyes. Arranging his features so that he looked comically surprised, he cried, "Look, there it is, right on top of your head!"

Terry immediately screamed and leapt to his feet, brushing his hair vigorously to rid himself of the imaginary pest. Several people in the vicinity turned to watch the spectacle with confusion mixed with amusement, and Riley nearly fell out of her seat laughing. Sven roared with mirth, and Finn held a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Even Astrid couldn't stop herself from giggling, and like Finn she reached up to conceal her expression.

"So where are you from?" Sven asked, sitting down in the empty space beside Astrid. Her smile flickered at the boy's close proximity. She had the distinct impression he was trying to flirt with her.

"America," she answered shortly.

Sven frowned. "But we're going to America."

Astrid didn't stop herself from rolling her eyes this time. "I know that. I'm going back home."

"Oh," Sven said, though she could tell that he still didn't get it. She decided not to illuminate him. She didn't want to give herself a headache. "I'm from Norway," he said. "We both are. We're heading to America to get rich!"

Astrid raised her eyebrows and said coolly, "Well, with your brains I'm sure you'll do fine."

Finn snorted and quickly covered the sound with a cough. Sven, however, missed her sarcasm completely and nodded. "Got that right, babe."

Astrid barely refrained from slapping her palm to her forehead. Good God Above, this was going to be a long voyage…

…

This is going to be a long voyage, Hinrik thought as he walked briskly down the deck. He kept glancing over his shoulder as he went, afraid he was being followed, but no one around him gave him a second glance, much to his relief. He didn't know what he'd say if Heather somehow found him. How could he possibly explain that he was trying to escape from the woman he was doomed to marry in just a few weeks? No matter how many times he ran through that conversation in his head, it never ended well.

But here he should be safe. It was technically the section reserved for second class passengers. And even though first class passengers could come here freely, it was something most of them would never dream of lowering themselves to do. He felt reasonably confident that he could find a few hours to himself.

He opened the door to the ship's library and paused on the threshold. The room was empty, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure what any second class passengers might have thought to see a first class man in their midst and he thanked his lucky stars he wasn't going to be gawked at. Slipping inside, he walked up to the nearest bookshelf and scanned the titles available.

A slim volume with the title Futility caught his eye and he pulled it out, walking over to a nearby armchair and settling down to read the afternoon away. He had a few hours to kill before dinner and he couldn't think of anything better to do.

He opened the book, pausing to glance at the title and the author's name – Morgan Robertson – and began to read. The story was about a steamship, the largest and most scientifically sophisticated ever built. The passengers lived in the lap of luxury, and with all the amenities on board she was referred to as a "floating city." She was also the safest vessel on the ocean with her nineteen watertight compartments with doors that would close automatically to prevent flooding. The ship could float with up to nine of her compartments filled, and as no one could imagine a disaster that could cause that kind of damage, she was labeled "unsinkable."

The ship's name was the Titan.

Hinrik paused, his eyes focused on the name. He flipped back to the copyright page and found that the book had been published in 1898. "How is that possible?" he whispered.

The fictional ship was named Titan. The ship he was sailing on was called Titanic. Both were the biggest, grandest, and safest ships afloat. He looked back at the page he'd been reading and his eyes fell on the word "unsinkable." He'd heard that word before. Grant Owens had said on Wednesday that the Titanic was unsinkable. "God Himself can't sink this ship," were his exact words.

He thought for a moment about some of the material he'd read about the Titanic before they'd come aboard. All the newspapers and shipbuilding magazines had been raving about her safety features. He vaguely recalled reading an article that described her watertight compartments. There were sixteen, if he remembered correctly, and with a flip of a switch on the bridge the doors could close and seal off a flooding compartment. The Titanic was capable of floating with up to four of the forward compartments filled and as such she had been labeled "unsinkable."

The largest ship afloat…a floating palace…unsinkable…named after the Greek Titans…what on earth is going on?

He shook his head. It must be a coincidence, he told himself. Of course with technology improving it was expected that steamships would get bigger and safer. If anything, the book was behind on the times: the Titanic was almost a hundred feet longer than the fictional ship. As for the name, well…he'd said it himself the previous day: it was pure arrogance to name a ship after the Titans. Apparently fictional people were just as capable of arrogance as real people. He continued to read.

The book continued describing the ship, stating that while she complied with the regulations, there were not enough lifeboats aboard for her total capacity. Indeed there was only room for five hundred out of a possible three thousand souls. Hinrik paused again, frowning. He couldn't remember how many lifeboats the Titanic had, but surely there would be enough for everyone aboard, right? It would be negligent for a ship to not have enough life-saving vessels for all her passengers and crew. He made a mental note to ask his father later and continued reading. The story didn't strike him as particularly interesting at first: it centered on a deckhand aboard the Titan, a former US Navy officer that had fallen from grace. While on a voyage across the Atlantic he ran into a former lover, who was sailing with her young daughter, and tensions rose between them. Once or twice Hinrik considered getting up and finding another book to read but decided against it each time. His armchair was just too comfortable to leave.

Then, a little before the novella's halfway point, the Titan rammed into an iceberg. The wound in her hull proved fatal and in no time at all she sank, taking most of her passengers to the bottom of the sea.

Hinrik stopped reading and stared down at the page, his thoughts scattered. The Titan and the Titanic were so similar. Both were big and grand and supposedly safe…was this book possibly…

He cut off that thought before it could fully form. He was being silly. It was just a stupid adventure story, nothing more. It was fiction. There was no need for him to be getting nervous over it. The Titanic was safe and any similarities the ship shared with its fictional counterpart were entirely coincidental.

But still…

He flipped back to the title page and gazed at the title. Futility. "Appropriate," he murmured. "All the effort taken to make the ship as grand and safe as possible and what happens? She ends up on the ocean floor."

He remembered his own words of the previous day: "It's like a slap in the face of God, the ultimate act of arrogance…" Man's hubris had created the Titan, and she was easily destroyed.

His heart stuttered for a moment. Could the same thing happen to the Titanic…?

He shook himself mentally and continued reading the story, though he found he couldn't quite concentrate on the story. His thoughts were jumbled and kept wandering away from the tale of the disgraced sailor. Futility, he thought. All is futile. We can keep making them bigger and faster and grander but in the end it's all for nothing…

"Hinrik?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. His head snapped up and his heart sank. Heather was standing at the library door, looking exasperated. Oh great, he thought dismally, she found me. And it looks like I'm in trouble.

He stood up as she bustled over. "Where have you been all afternoon?" she demanded.

"I've been here," Hinrik replied. Obviously, he added silently.

Heather sighed, apparently trying to retain some semblance of patience. "Well come on, dear. It's time for dinner."

"Is it really?" Hinrik asked, surprised. "Oh. I must have lost track of the time."

"Yes," Heather said impatiently, seizing his arm and all but dragging him to the door. "You seem prone to that. Now let's go. We still have time to change before going down to the dining saloon."

Hinrik barely had time to replace the book on the shelf before being ushered out of the library. He didn't look back, but he kept thinking about the book all the way back to the stateroom.

At dinner that night, Hinrik paid no attention to the conversation surrounding him. His father was talking to Gunnar, who was laughing delightedly at whatever he'd said. Heather was discussing something with Grant, who nodded politely as he ate. Hinrik sighed and glanced around the saloon. It was so opulent, so grandiose, so…unnecessary.

Futile.

He shook his head to clear it and tried to focus on what Stanford was saying, but all he heard was a faint rumble that he couldn't discern. He glanced over at Heather, who was smiling at her father. Her diamond necklace glittered in the lights shining above.

Dear God in Heaven, was this to be his future? Nothing but endless parties, meaningless chatter, polite laughter, surrounded by people who couldn't see how pointless all this was? Heather always by his side, latched to his arm like a leech, sucking the life out of him day by day? Did he have nothing at all to look forward to, nothing to distract him from the infinity of misery that lay before him? Did anyone, anyone at all, see that he was standing at the edge of a cliff, teetering, about to fall with no one to pull him back, to save him?

He reached out and picked up one of his forks, slipping it beneath the table. No one around him noticed. He rolled up his sleeve a little and pushed the tines into his skin. He felt the tiny prick of pain and pressed harder, poking and jabbing until the fork broke through his skin, drawing blood. He smiled slightly. He could feel pain. So not all was lost then.

It wasn't much, but he clung to it. The pain was all that separated him from an endless fall into nothingness.

A/N: First of all, yes, there really was a book called Futility published in 1898 that told a story of an ocean liner named Titan, a ship considered the grandest and safest ship on the sea that struck an iceberg on a cold April night and sank, taking most of her passengers with her because she had too few lifeboats. It's one of the eerier stories surrounding the Titanic disaster because it seems to predict the ship's fate before she was even built. The book is in the public domain now and if you can find it, I suggest you read it if you're interested in the Titanic. I can't say the story is all that memorable, but the similarities between the fictional Titan and the real Titanic are eerily striking. As to whether or not the ship's library had a copy of the book, I don't know. I rather doubt it, actually, as it wasn't a very popular book at the time of its release, but hey, I'm taking a few artistic liberties.

Also, a note on the timeline. I don't know if anyone else has ever noticed, but the Cameron film (indeed, several films about the Titanic) skips a day. Bear with me for a moment: she strikes the iceberg on the 14th of April, so the day Jack and Rose spend together would be the 13th, which makes the day of Rose's suicide attempt the 12th. The film presents this as the same day the Titanic left Queenstown, Ireland, but that was in fact the 11th, one day before. So either there's a time lapse somewhere (like the one I've put in my story), or else Cameron (and others) made an error. So for the sake of historical accuracy, I added an extra day to the voyage. Next chapter will be more familiar to you, I promise. In the meantime, I hope you're enjoying the story!