Tancredi’s finger sought the solace of his nose. Tamany looked up at his distressed companion. The child was calm, serene even. Tancredi took a deep breath; the better part of him, the Tancredi who sought to differentiate himself from the swirling mass of humanity, took control. He would face the danger, and find a way out.

He began to analyse the situation. Despite his awareness of mankind’s addiction to short-termism, he expected some signs of concern from his fellow shipmates. He had read accounts of the last hours of the Titanic, whose passengers regarded the evacuation as sport. They perambulated its decks, listened to the band, and even as the water lapped their feet, poured more drinks. He thought of his uncle, who would be horrified to get his clothes wet. He wondered at what point the passengers of the Titanic had realised they were going to die. Was it on contact with the water?

The lessons of history were clear. It was human nature not to face facts until it was too late. People would continue to watch reality TV even as a clock on screen counted down to Armageddon. After all, what better show than one’s own destruction?

He peered out of the space window. There were corpses floating outside, visible to anyone looking. Nunscrut harvesting nets wafted through space snaring the bodies. But the mass of the passengers continued to glue their collective focus on the big screen. Perhaps he was overreacting. His ability to see through to the gruesome end was a quality, but what was the dividing line between prudence and paranoia? Could it be that one person among thousands was right? And if he was, would he follow his own opinion or run with the pack?

‘Don’t you think you should get to an escape pod?’ he said to a man holding a beer bottle nearby, enjoying the show.

‘Why?’ the man replied. ‘The ship’s invincible, isn’t it? Anyway, the Captain hasn’t said anything.’

Tancredi picked up a pair of cheerleader pom-poms discarded on the deck. He jumped up and down in imitation of a hornpipe dance, waving the pom-poms in the man’s face.

‘Panic! Panic! Panic!’ he screeched. ‘What about those bodies?’ He gestured at the floating corpses. ‘Don’t you feel something’s wrong?’

The beer drinker looked at him wearily, barely bothering to move his head.

‘None of my business. Anyway, who’s to say what they are? Perhaps they’re foreign bodies? Perhaps they’ve gone for a space walk?’

At this, a nearby passenger opened his mouth, raised his eyebrows in anticipated pleasure, and looked around at his fellow travellers.

‘Space walk!’ he exclaimed, and laughed loudly.

It seemed to be contagious, everyone nearby cried ‘Space walk!’ and collapsed with laughter. Shortly, the entire deck was laughing, this was the funniest joke ever.

Incredible, thought Tancredi, collective euphoria without an ounce of humour. As for the beer drinker, would he clutch the bottle to him, perhaps taking a final sip as he was sucked into space?