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Time's Atlas

Chapter 1

For the tenth time that day, Jeanie swept up the mess of the other gods. Without so much as a pattering little sigh, she wielded her broom with true command, and watched as the chunks of glass, twisted metal, and broken laurel wreaths behaved as she shepherded them into a corner.

Once upon a time she used to bemoan that if only the gods could clean up after themselves, there would be no more problems in the entire universe; she now knew that it was an impossible dream, however. Two solid eons of being a cleaner had taught her that.

Still, at least it was work. And in these hard economic times, when true belief amongst the human population was about as rare as diamond-studded gold, you had to do what work was given to you.

The offices on the third floor need scrubbing,’ mumbled Jerry, one of the other cleaning gods as he whistled his way down the corridor. Jerry always whistled while he worked. And if he didn't have a mop of broom propped up that he could lean against casually, he'd have his two large hands stuffed into the pockets of his overalls as he stared out the world. He'd probably seen it in a movie, she'd often wondered; just the exact twist to his head, the look of casual demeanor, the pitch and even tune of his whistling. Jerry no doubt had modeled himself on what he thought the humans would believe a cleaner should look and behave like. And he wouldn't be alone; ever since the incredible events of Ragnarok, and the massive upheavals it had caused to the entire divine world afterwards, a lot of things had changed around here. Old systems had crumbled. And while that might sound good to some extent, it left a lot of divine beings with a lot of self-searching to do. Now it was clear that myths had been lost, remodeled, changed, swapped, and plain old forgotten since the beginning of time, it had opened the doors to a sweeping away of tradition.

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