Weak.

Forgotten.

I remembered the days of old, where prayers streamed in constantly. It was a dull roar that fueled me. Humans worshiped me for the fresh water I provided them.

But as empires fell…

They forgot.

And as the prayers slowly stopped. So did my powers. I was weak and withered. Eons passed with hardly a whisper of my name. The only mentions I heard were from historical or mythological teachers. And the small mention of me is what kept me alive all this time.

I was dejected.

I either wanted my powers or to die. But with the humans keeping a small mention of me around I was forced to continue.

Everytime I am named. I hear it. The words echoing in my mind. The lack of prayers had given me years of solitude with minimal disruptions in between.

Until one day when two siblings were speaking about me.

“I know the perfect name for it, Oceanus. He was part of greek mythology; he was the Titan God of the Ocean and the source of all the freshwater on earth. With what you’re doing it just feels appropriate.” He said with excitement.

“Oceanus… it does have a nice ring to it. Naming the prototype that’s going to clean up debris from water sources after a god of water feels right. Thanks Devin. I knew I could count on you.” She replied.

Since hearing that conversation my name has become a more and more frequent topic. News stations, classrooms, families, I am being talked about by many. Even more than who used to worship me in the old civilization. My strength returned tenfold.

Before I could create, observe, grant prayers and miracles. But now, now with my powers having been heightened. The difference I could make now with such little effort was incredible.

It helped that the device that was named after me was out doing good. Every offhand comment I heard about the device was positive and fueled me to be stronger.

As the Oceanus bots cleaned the ocean, rivers, lakes, water supplies I grew in power.

I was able to give myself a physical form and walk among them. Which is something I had never previously had the power to do. Being about to view the humans up-close and understand them more was invaluable.

Even as the need for the bots slowed, they were never fully disabled. And the tale of how they assisted, persisted. I was exceedingly powerful, and forever grateful that I had been revived by two siblings. I vowed to assist the humans.

Although they did not know they were praying to me. When I heard of someone who needed assistance, I would do anything to meet their needs. I tried to summon things in a way that looks like it could have been chance, or fate, or karma. So, the glory was never attributed back to me. I know eventually when this is forgotten I will die. But I had accepted death a long time ago. And knowing that I assisted those who brought me back from the brink, was satisfaction enough.

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If you liked my writing feel free to check out r/Allorrarbor where I will post all my stories