IT IS YOURS
CONCLUSION
Alexander the Great wanted to untie the knot but struggled to do so. He then reasoned that it would make no difference how the knot was loosed, so he drew his sword and sliced it in half with a single stroke.
Alexander the Great was a victim of fate,
And he sighed there was naught to delight him
When he brandished his sword and defiantly roared
And could not get a country to fight him.
All the armies he’d chased, all the lands laid to waste,
And he clamored for further diversions;
And our history speaks of his grip on the Greeks
And his hammerlock hold on the Persians.
Though the Gordian knot, cut in two, in a spot
In his palace was labeled a relic,
Though Bucephalus, stuffed, gave him fame, he was huffed—
He was grouchy and grumpy, was Aleck.
And the cause of his woe, he would have you to know,
Was the fact that he never was able
To conduct a big scrap that a versatile chap
Of a war correspondent would cable.
‘Stead of being quite glad, he would grow very sad
When he told of the fellows who’d fought him,
As he thought of the lack of the clicking kodak
In the hands of a man to “snapshot” him.
We are told that he wept, and in dolefulness crept
Through his palace—the reason is hinted:
There were not at that time magazines for a dime,
And his articles could not be printed.
Though it may seem unkind, ere his life we’ve outlined,
We must say in some ways he was hateful;
And in truth, we have heard he went back on his word,
And was not Alexander the Grateful.
ALEXANDER THE GREAT BY WILBUR D. NESBIT
No, The world is yours:
TAKE IT
No man is fit to rule the world alone
G.I. Joe leaned close to Angelina, his voice steady but filled with intensity.
“Listen, Angelina,” he said, eyes sharp, “Peter Thiel and his billionaire friends… they’re insane with greed and lust for power. In my government? None of that will ever touch you again. You’ll never be forced into a psychiatric ward. Never again accused of being insane. Not on my watch.”
Angelina’s eyes glimmered, a mixture of relief and disbelief. “You really mean that?”
Joe nodded, resolute. “I swear it. You’ll have freedom. Respect. And dignity. Always.”
G.I. Joe stood in the dimly lit room, the hum of the city outside fading into the background. Angelina sat across from him, shoulders tense, eyes wary. He could see the lingering scars of past accusations, the weight of unjust labels.
“Angelina,” he began, voice low but firm, “you need to understand something. Peter Thiel and his billionaire friends… they’ve lost all sense of reason. Their hunger for power, for control, for… everything that isn’t theirs… it’s dangerous. Insane, even.”
She flinched at the word “insane,” memories flashing of days locked away, of whispered accusations in sterile corridors. “And… what about me?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Joe took a deep breath, letting his conviction fill the space between them. “In my government? None of that will ever happen to you again. You will never be forced into a psychiatric ward. Never accused of insanity just because someone wants to silence you, control you, or profit from your pain.”
Angelina’s eyes glistened. “You really mean that?”
“I swear it,” Joe said, leaning forward, letting his words carry the weight of promise. “We have safeguards. Independent review boards, transparent investigations, laws that protect citizens from abuse and exploitation. No more secret orders, no more hidden agendas. Anyone who tries to misuse their power… they answer to the people, not the other way around.”
She exhaled slowly, a weight lifting from her chest. “So… I’d be safe. Free?”
Joe nodded, a small, fierce smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Free. Respected. Heard. And never again alone against the world that tried to break you.”
The tension in the room seemed to dissipate, replaced by a fragile, growing hope. Outside, the city lights flickered like tiny stars, and for the first time in a long while, Angelina allowed herself to believe that justice—real justice—was possible.
The next morning, Joe walked into the towering glass headquarters of the nation’s financial oversight council, his boots echoing against the polished floors. Screens flickered with stock tickers, corporate logos, and the faces of the very people who had once wielded power like a weapon.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Joe’s voice cut through the chatter, calm but commanding. “Today, your empire of secrecy ends.”
Security guards glanced nervously at each other as Joe strode past. In his hand, a digital dossier glowed—evidence of every illegal scheme, every exploit, every manipulation orchestrated by Thiel and his billionaire allies.
He activated the main display. Charts, documents, and incriminating recordings filled the screen. “You’ve profited off the suffering of ordinary citizens. You’ve used fear and silence to control lives. That ends today. Every contract, every loophole, every secret deal—reviewed. Public. Transparent. Accountable.”
A few executives muttered protests, but Joe didn’t waver. “And to those who tried to silence the innocent,” he said, voice rising, “know this: anyone who seeks to accuse the vulnerable of insanity or misuse psychiatric systems to protect their power… they face the full weight of the law.”
Outside the windows, news drones captured every moment. Soon, the streets were alive with citizens watching the broadcast. Angelina stood among them, shielded by layers of support Joe had arranged, her eyes wide as she realized—finally—the world was watching the corrupt, and justice was in motion.
Joe turned back to the council. “You built your towers of greed thinking no one could touch you. But power belongs to the people. Not to the insane few who crave it.”
As cameras rolled and headlines flashed, the message was clear: Joe’s government would protect the innocent, dismantle corruption, and ensure no one like Angelina would ever be silenced again.
And for the first time in years, she smiled—not cautiously, but fully, as if hope itself had been restored.
Montage: The Rise of Justice
Scene 1: Citizens line up at newly opened government offices, greeted by smiling officials. Papers are processed in minutes, and digital kiosks allow people to report corruption anonymously. Angelina walks through one, her head held high, finally treated with respect.
Scene 2: News screens across the country show Thiel and his billionaire allies under investigation. Every shady deal, secret offshore account, and corporate manipulation is exposed. Public outrage swells, and ordinary people cheer from city streets.
Scene 3: Psychiatric reform: hospitals and clinics now operate under strict oversight. Individuals like Angelina are no longer subjected to arbitrary confinement. Mental health care focuses on healing, not control or punishment.
Scene 4: Schools and communities receive funding to educate citizens about their rights. Posters read: “Your voice is your power. No one can silence you.” Children in classrooms raise their hands confidently, echoing the new culture of transparency.
Scene 5: Joe walks among the people, shaking hands, listening to concerns. He stops to speak with Angelina, who has become a community advocate. “You see?” he says softly. “This is what justice looks like when the people are in charge.”
Scene 6: The corrupt elite are brought to trial. The courtroom is packed, broadcast live. Thiel and his friends face the law openly; there are no backroom deals, no hidden protections. Ordinary citizens watch, empowered and vindicated.
Scene 7: At sunset, Joe and Angelina stand atop a city building. The skyline glows golden. “We did it,” she whispers. “The world… it’s ours again.”
Joe smiles, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s never truly theirs to begin with. Power belongs to the people. And we’ll make sure it stays that way.”