Modern Goddess: Trapped by Atlas
For the tenth time that day, Jeanie swept up the mess of the other gods. Without as much as a 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 moan that if only the gods could clean up after themselves, there would be no more problems in the entire universe. She knew it was an impossible dream, however. Two solid eons of being a cleaner had taught her that.
Still, at least it was work. 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. If he didn't have a mop or broom that he could lean against casually, he'd have his two large hands stuffed into the pockets of his overalls. He'd probably seen it in a movie, she'd often thought. The exact twist to his head, his casual demeanor, the melodious tune of his whistling. Jerry had modeled himself on what he thought the humans imagined a cleaner should look and behave like. He wouldn't be alone.
Since the events of Ragnarok, and the massive upheavals it had caused in the divine world, things had changed around here. Old systems had crumbled. While that might sound good, it left divine beings with a heck of a lot of self-searching to do. It was clear that myths had been lost, remodeled, changed, swapped, and plain old forgotten since the beginning of time, and it had opened the doors to a sweeping away of tradition.
Jerry was no longer a god of cleaning. If he wanted to be, he could specialize and be a god of whistling while he walked and cleaned, or he could generalize and be a god of anything that could be swept away. The point was, as long as he found a vein of belief as they were being called – some area of human interest and passion where devotion could still sustain him – then Jerry could reinvent himself all he wanted.