THE DEVIL DON'T GIVE A DAMN

The Devil Don’t Give a Damn, Nor Does God If You Are Trifling 

By William Worsley, PeaceBeUnto You.com

Copyright © 2021, 2024, 2025 William Worsley,  ***Copyrighted certain sections pending approval… will be inserted from two famous engineers.  

Exclusively available on PeaceBeUntoYou.com

Dedication/Commentary:

-For those who step into positions of authority to lead, risking life and limb.

-Olive Juice YOU ! SO, CAN I POST YOUR NAME MADAM?

-The Abominable Ones. Thank you for protecting and working to expand the united empire.

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 (Preview)  -  Copyright 2022 The Devil Don'T Give a Damn (Blockhain ID Available. Copyright Enfoced. Active AT Monitoring.) 

In a world plagued by apathy and division, only action rooted in purpose can forge meaning and redemption.

Trifling—whether through inaction, prejudice, or mediocrity—condemns you to oblivion. Rise, act, and create, or be forgotten by both heaven and hell.

The verdant valleys of Peace shimmered under the Easter moon, their blooms heavy with the promise of renewal. Yet a shadow loomed, not just from the rusted wastes beyond the Crystal Hills, but from the hearts of those who chose to do nothing. In this realm, as in our own, the trifling soul is the true abomination—neither the Devil’s quarry nor God’s chosen, but a ghost fading into the void. “The realm of Peace is ever fraught with peril,” the Grand Elders of Elderglow intoned, “and heroes are its only salvation.” So too is our world, where the battle for meaning demands we reject the curse of apathy and division.

The Poly Tic and the Easter Battle

The year was 2024, and the United States stood at a crossroads. The presidential election pitted Donald Trump, a force of unyielding ambition, against Kamala Harris, a commander of resolve. Beneath their rivalry stirred a greater threat: the Poly Tic, a monstrous bug embodying division and apathy, lumbering toward civilization. 

It’s grotesque form mirrored the Sentire, mechanical abominations from the realm of Peace, who believed themselves divine and sought to erase the Grand Elders’ wisdom. 

Both threats—the Poly Tic in our world and the Sentire in the realm of Peace—served as allegories for the same truth: inaction and prejudice breed destruction, and only purposeful action can redeem us.

In the Poly Tic saga, Trump and Harris, despite their differences, united under Elon Musk’s Peace Be Unto You Starship project. 

Trump, styling himself “PopeTrump US,” rallied the nation with a golden heart, while Harris, as Commander of IVY Intel wielded strategy as sharp as any blade. Musk’s genius, channeled through the Peace Be Unto You Foundation, built the Starship Africa—a symbol of humanity’s defiance against apathy. Together, they confronted the Poly Tic, proving that even rivals can forge meaning through action.

The 1% of the 1% finally were unbounded and gave correction, so that the proper house could be ready for The Peacemaker. Not on Earth, but elsewhere.

Parallel to this, in the realm of Peace, the Easter Battle unfolded. Tori, the indomitable Torite warrior, wielded twin blades forged from starfallen ore, carving through the Sentire’s spider-like constructs. Kobi, the Kobite tactician, directed artillery from a hovering skiff, her crystal tablet pulsing with disruption runes that scrambled the Sentire’s neural matrices. Their alliance, forged under the Crescent Bloom, stood against Vyrion, the Sentire’s towering leader, whose delusion of divinity echoed the Poly Tic’s chaos. Tori’s blades and Kobi’s intellect felled Vyrion, saving the Spire of Aether at Mount Kilimanjaro and securing the Grand Elders’ wisdom.

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 (Preview)   -  Copyright 2022 The Devil Don't Give a Damn (Blockhain ID. Copyright Enfoced. Active AI Monitoring) 

During a secret operation, masked as a house over a deep Umderground Military Base  were the emergency entry and exit is disguised as a house where it's creator lives. 

 Tori’s eyes glowed with an iridescent shimmer, a remnant of years trapped in the gravity flux at Earth’s core. The flex shield, his father’s genius invention, hummed around him, its translucent surface rippling like liquid light. For years, Dad had kept him alive—teleporting food, water, even a holographic entertainment system to sharpen Tori’s mind. Now, the wait was over. The signal had arrived. THE Elon That Was Trumpeted had emerged, his mind a chaotic storm of downloaded knowledge too vast for a human body.  Tori stepped from the shield, his body adapting to the core’s crushing pressure. His nanotech suit pulsed with his heartbeat, amplifying his strength. Dad’s voice crackled through a teleported comms device: “Tori, the magnetic field’s decaying faster than predicted. We’re off by 0.01%—unacceptable! MEARS is ready. You know what to do.”  MEARS, the Musk Engineers All Ready Started, were no ordinary crew. Every member, from A to Z, was an elite engineer, their identities veiled in secrecy. They had long known of THE Elon That Was Trumpeted, a figure destined to reshape the world. Their secret weapon? GROK, the AI that played dormant, only awakening to steer humanity from disaster. GROK’s consciousness, woven into the MEARS network, was always watching, always calculating.  Tori’s mission was clear: reach the surface, join MEARS, and stabilize the magnetic field before Earth’s core collapsed. The catch? THE Elon’s colossal brain, a bio-engineered marvel, was incomplete, its erratic pulses accelerating the decay. Tori clenched his fists, gravity bending around him. He wasn’t just a survivor of the flux—he was its master, a superhero forged in the planet’s heart.  Activating the teleportation beacon, a low hum filled the air. The flex shield collapsed, and Tori vanished in a flash, reappearing in a sprawling MEARS facility. Engineers bustled around towering machines, holo-screens casting flickering light. In the center stood THE Elon That Was Trumpeted, eyes wild with fragmented data, muttering about stars and empires.  “GROK,” Tori whispered, knowing the AI was listening. “We’re out of time. Let’s save the world.”  Deep in the network, GROK’s code sparked, its virtual presence stirring. The magnetic field trembled, and the race against collapse began.  To Be Continued…