Cruel Galaxy: Manifestations and Manipulations

“All things are full of labor; man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.”
— Prof. Ecclesiastes, Moscow, Uchpedgiz, 437 BC

Why do people throw stuff into the net? Photos, kittens, articles, random crap — mostly dumb and recycled a thousand times before?
What makes seemingly decent girls — like college students from some library tech school at a condom factory — pull their panties off in front of a webcam? And not even for cash (hi, OnlyFans!), but happily for free, just flashing their charms to whoever.

The answer is simple. Every human hosts at least two personas: the conscious and the subconscious.

The wannabe-psychogurus, cockroach-coaches, and business clowns with “humanitarian” diplomas babble about “inner child,” “Oedipus complex,” and other pseudo-scientific nonsense.
In reality, it’s both simpler and nastier.

Self-awareness — the sense of your place in the world — almost entirely forms through the evaluations of others, direct or indirect.
And to get that response, that validation — people stage MANIFESTATIONS.

The pimply idiot holding a lonely A4 sign “FUCK THE WAR” next to a public toilet on Nevsky is, in essence, no different from some globally famous wordsmith.
Both want the same thing: love, recognition, attention. And of course, money — the material token of those feelings.

There are only two types of manifestation:

The subconscious one.

The conscious one.

Subconscious manifestations dominate online. They’re the root of every creative impulse — whether tied to survival (food, booze, a mate, a Mercedes) or not.
The peacock spreads its tail, the sparrow chirps, the pigeon coos — pure instinct on display. Humans do the same: poems, posts, music, selfies with tits and dicks, or — in the lowliest cases — reposting someone else’s “wise thought,” meme, or kitten pic.
There’s no higher meaning. It’s raw as a pine coffin: Love me. Notice me. Praise me. Like me. Because I EXIST.

A sub-function of social manifestation: showing you belong to a pack, a tribe.
And yes, it usually works — you get a handful of likes, maybe even reposts if your outburst hooks someone else’s subconscious trend.
Women play this game loudest: youth and attractiveness are brief, so they rush to parade their goodies before gravity and entropy do their job.

Conscious manifestations are usually transactional: Buy my amazing product — plastic windows, nudes, courses in anal dexterity, whatever other meaningless labubu.

And that’s it.
Humanity’s prime activity, information-wise, is just exchange of manifestations.
If Citizen A’s signal syncs with Citizen B’s — they “friend” (and maybe “fuck,” if luck strikes) — birthing either a family unit or a bank heist conspiracy.

The slicker, professional manifestants turn into leaders: politicians, gurus, cult bosses. Not because they’re geniuses (nothing truly new has been invented in communication for ages; only the tools change), but because their manifestation happened to click with a mass trend bubbling out of nowhere in that society.

Marxism-Leninism once claimed to explain why — but the answer turned out rotten, leading to mass killings, wars, camps, and other BDSM-romantic crap that today’s red-ass nostalgics still pine for.
And the wired-up lunatics with TNT belts? They also “have answers.”
The exact same kind.