Destiny. Many doubt its existence. Plenty choose to believe that they control
their own fates. Countless scientists
and philosophers have searched for proof of its existence for millennia, but
they will never find it. That does not
mean, however, that it does not exist.
Destiny is real. Every act that
was ever performed or ever will be has been recorded and sealed away in the
Cronos Library.
Geographically
speaking, its entrance is located at the peak of Mount Everest. Even so, the Library itself is hidden in a
gap between dimensions, the place where “now” ends and “then” begins. The Library is packed full of Tomes, ancient
volumes where every object in the universe’s entire existence is mapped out. The Tomes are tended by the Cronos
Librarians, creatures whose sole purpose is to make sure that destiny takes the
course they know instinctively to be ‘correct’.
Most
of the time this happens by itself, but every now and again there is a shift in
the fabric of the universe, and an object may move on a different track than
that which destiny defines. When this
happens, a Cronos Librarian is dispatched into the mortal realm to change the
track back. This is a task in which the
Librarians have never failed, to the extent that what precisely should happen
were such an eventuality to occur remains unknown to them. It is known, however, that their work is
vital to the continued existence of time and space, and so they consider it the
most sacred of duties, bestowed unto them and them alone.
Tervisan
Stesynd was one such Librarian. Time has
no meaning in the Library, and so Tervisan had no age or birthday. He just was.
The fact that he had the body of an adolescent human was merely down to
personal preference.
Tervisan
smiled, and placed the Tome belonging to Winston Churchill back onto the
shelf. He loved that Tome. The man had a phenomenal sense of
humour. As he wandered down the aisle,
he glanced into a mirror poking out between two shelves, and studied his
reflection. Tall. Pale.
Human. Two green-grey eyes stared
out from beneath a ragged black fringe, and an angry red spot glistened on the
tip of his nose. He growled in annoyance
through his perfect white teeth, and the spot vanished with a wink of light. Much
better, he thought to himself.
The
shrill scream of an alarm bell sliced through his thoughts like a
scimitar. Instantly, the face of
Tervisan’s black wristwatch slid to one side, revealing the less-than-friendly
head of a bald, angry Librarian.
“Mr
Fate, sir,” Tervisan greeted the man in the watch.
“Librarian
Stesynd,” the man barked. “There’s been
a Deviation on Earth, England, Midlands, Mid-Sixteenth Century. Your Intervention is required.”
“I’m
on it,” Tervisan replied. The world did
a somersault, and suddenly he was standing in a green field, next to an ancient
disused church. The stained-glass
windows had been smashed long ago, and a few bemused pigeons perched on its
slated roof. Half of the slates were
missing, and the other half were caked in bird droppings.
His
watch bleeped, and the hour hand swivelled to point at the four o’clock
mark. Tervisan turned, and headed in
that direction. Every now and again the
hand would move a fraction, and Tervisan would adjust his route to follow
it. Retro Style Watch GPS. Perfect for finding your way. Not released on Earth until 2197, of course,
but being a Cronos Librarian had its perks.
The
watch bleeped again, indicating Tervisan had arrived. He quickly took in his surroundings. Being the year 1564, no cars were scheduled
to be invented for centuries, but there were still road accidents, and it was
one of these that had led him here. A
crucially important figure was lying in a crumpled heap in the middle of a dirt
track, the horse and cart that had hit him having long since departed. He strode over to the heap. It was a child, trampled by hooves and stone
dead.
It
couldn’t be more than three months old.
Tervisan lifted the corpse in his arms, running his hands through what
had been newly growing hair. He kissed
the baby’s forehead, whispering words in a long-forgotten tongue, and raised it
to the sky.
The
baby opened its eyes. It smiled at
Tervisan. The Librarian tickled it, and
it laughed. Tervisan breathed a sigh of
relief, and touched his watch. His job
was done.
“This
is Librarian Stesynd,” he said. “William
Shakespeare has been saved.”