Start asking where

A Manifesto for the Awakening

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I. Prologue: The Curtain Call

We are not free. We are scripted.

From the moment we arrive in this world, the stage is already set. The lights are positioned, the scenery painted, the actors waiting in their marks. We are handed our lines before we can even speak them, and the audience applauds as if this is real life.

But it isn’t real. It is theatre.

Governments pretend to rule, but they are not the writers. They are actors — and bad ones at that. The script comes from higher up, from families whose names you rarely hear, from corporations that outlive entire nations, from dynasties of wealth that never lose power no matter who wins elections.

The headlines are props. The laws are stage cues. The crises are carefully timed acts in a play that has been running for centuries.

And we — the people — are cast as extras.

This manifesto is not a sermon. It is not to herd you into another pen. It is not to turn you into sheep grazing in a different field. It is a mirror, held up to the stage, so you can see the wires, the shadows, the puppeteers. So you can step off the stage altogether.

Because until we start asking where, we remain trapped in the theatre.

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II. The Distraction Machine

Look closely. Every major crisis is paired with a distraction.

A stabbing here becomes front-page news, plastered across every platform, its horror amplified, its symbolism hijacked. But while your eyes are glued to that stage, freedom-of-speech protests flare somewhere else — and those stories vanish into silence. Why? Because protests that challenge control are dangerous to the script. A stabbing is not.

This is the choreography:

Amplify the spectacle. Crime, tragedy, celebrity scandal, a “breaking event.”

Suppress the uprising. Black out coverage of the protests, the walkouts, the people questioning power.

Feed fear, starve awareness. Keep us locked in outrage, scrolling, arguing — but never asking where the strings lead.

And here’s the secret the puppeteers cannot script for: when the extras — the people in the crowd, the ones meant to fill the arena quietly — start walking out.

When the extras leave, the audience shrinks.

When the audience shrinks, the illusion falters.

And suddenly the cast — the stars of the show, the politicians, the celebrities, the mouthpieces — stand exposed. They cannot walk out. They are too entwined with the machine. They are the lead roles, bound to the script until the theatre collapses.

The puppeteers know this: if the extras refuse their parts and the seats empty, the entire performance fails.

That is the danger they fear most.

Not the crime. Not the crisis. Not even the protest itself.

They fear the moment the crowd collectively realises it does not need to watch the play at all.

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III. The War Cycle

War is not failure. It is business.

The cycle never changes:

1. Weapons flow in. Arms dealers, “defence contractors,” foreign governments with stockpiles to unload.

2. Cities burn. Infrastructure collapses, homes reduced to rubble, lives erased.

3. Aid flows after. Smiling officials, branded trucks, photo ops.

4. Debt follows. Rebuilding loans with interest rates that chain the nation for decades.

5. Resources shift. Land, oil, minerals, routes all end up in the hands of those who armed both sides.

This cycle is older than our grandparents. It played out in empires, in colonies, in every modern war dressed up as “liberation” or “defence.”

The same hands that profit from destruction profit from reconstruction. War is not chaos — it is strategy.

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IV. The Fear Program

Fear is the leash.

The machine knows that a fearful population is a manageable one. Fear makes people beg for stronger locks, harsher laws, tighter surveillance. Fear turns freedom into a luxury people willingly trade away.

Everyday violence becomes performance. A murder on a bus becomes a stage cue. An “enemy” speech becomes a tool for propaganda. Fear ripples outward, amplified by screens, used to justify control.

Fear is everywhere:

In crime headlines that repeat the same stories until you feel unsafe in your own home.

In religious warnings that paint entire groups as threats.

In pandemic narratives that turned neighbours into dangers and fear itself into virtue.

Fear is not an accident. It is cultivated, refined, broadcast.

Because when you are afraid, you do not ask where.

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V. The Puppets and the Puppeteers

Governments are not the pinnacle of power. They are middle management.

Presidents, prime ministers, ministers — they change costumes, swap roles, take their bows. But the script remains. Because the script is written elsewhere.

Behind them: dynasties of wealth that stretch across centuries. Corporations that outlive entire countries. Financial institutions that lend money with one hand and dictate policy with the other. Billionaires whose fortunes rise during every crisis.

This is why no matter who you vote for, the wars continue, the debts deepen, the surveillance grows. It doesn’t matter which actor is in office — they are reading the same lines.

“Agenda 2030” is not evil in its words. Sustainability, equality, justice — who wouldn’t want that? But in its application, it becomes a neat management plan. Resources catalogued, movements tracked, people reduced to data points. Progress dressed in chains.

The puppets are not the problem. The puppeteers are.

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VI. The Birth Programming

From birth, we are programmed.

Schools teach obedience before knowledge.

Jobs reward conformity before creativity.

Media teaches consumption before critical thought.

We are told to believe what we are fed.

Told to compete against one another.

Told to follow, not to question.

This is not an accident. It is preparation. Human beings as resources. Citizens as compliant actors. Souls as consumers.

And when someone breaks free, the programming frames them as dangerous, mad, unstable. Because if too many people wake up, the theatre collapses.

We are not born free. We are born into a script.

But we can choose to step out of it.

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VII. The Arena of Division

The arena is ancient.

In Rome it was lions and gladiators. In the Middle Ages it was crusades and witch trials. Today it is immigration debates, gender wars, and political mud-wrestling on your phone screen.

The arena always serves the same purpose: keep the crowd entertained, divided, bleeding each other instead of looking at the Emperor’s box.

In this arena, we are trained to hate the neighbour who worships differently, the stranger who crossed a border, the worker who took “our” job, the politician on the “other side.”

But here is the truth: none of these people wrote the script. They are extras, same as us.

We are not enemies. We are co-captives.

And as long as we fight each other, the stage hands above keep counting their coins.

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VIII. The Generation of Justice

Something new is stirring.

Gen Z, the so-called “woke” generation, have grown up watching the stage crack. They see the wires, the smoke machines, the cheap tricks. They don’t clap when the actors deliver their lines. They shout back.

They are the “that’s not fair” generation. The ones who livestream hypocrisy, who meme corruption into ridicule, who refuse to wait quietly for their turn in the script.

Look at Nepal: students using Discord servers to choose leaders, not ballots. Government palaces set on fire, not politely petitioned. Entire regimes shaken by people barely in their twenties.

The machine calls them chaotic, dangerous, naïve. But really, they are mirrors. They reflect back the fraud.

And this terrifies the puppeteers. Because once one generation refuses the script, the theatre cannot continue as before.

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IX. The Sky and the Script

The stars are not passive witnesses. They reflect our cycles back to us.

Pluto in Aquarius: hierarchies collapse, networks rise. Authority no longer belongs to kings and CEOs — it leaks into the crowd, the swarm, the collective.

Saturn in Pisces: illusions dissolve. What was hidden under holy robes or corporate slogans melts away. People see what they were never meant to.

Eclipses in Virgo and Pisces: systems fail, lies are exposed, healing demands truth not compliance.

The script is cosmic as well as political. We are not only watching governments stumble; we are watching the Age itself turn.

The old playbook cannot hold. The props are falling apart.

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X. What They Don’t Want You to Ask

This is the heart of it.

They don’t want you asking:

Who funds the war?

Who supplies the weapons?

Who owns the debt?

Who profits from fear?

Who writes the script governments read from?

Because if you start asking these questions, the curtain slips. The illusion fails. And once you see the wires, you can’t unsee them.

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XI. Beyond the Puppets

Governments are the mask, not the face.

The true power sits in old names — families that never fade, dynasties that survive every “revolution.” It sits in corporations that move money across borders faster than laws can follow. It sits in billionaires who shape entire economies with a single investment.

And beyond even them: the networks of secrecy, the lodges, the hidden agreements. Call them Masons, Illuminati, “elites” — the names don’t matter. The structure does.

What matters is that they operate above the arena. While we fight over crumbs, they divide the feast.

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XII. The Collective Threshold

We can feel it in the air: people are tired.

Tired of fear headlines. Tired of distractions. Tired of governments pretending to govern while serving only their hidden masters.

This exhaustion is not weakness. It is the soil of awakening.

Because when people are too tired to keep playing their scripted roles, they start asking: why am I here? who wrote this? what if I just step off the stage?

That is when empires fall. Not when the actors falter, but when the audience walks out.

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XIII. The Call to Look Up

This is not about herding you into another ideology, another pen, another “movement” that will in time become its own stage play.

This is about reminding you to look up.

Stop fighting sideways.

Stop seeing your neighbour as the enemy.

Stop swallowing the fear leash.

Instead:

Follow the money.

Track the patterns.

Ask the questions you are told not to ask.

Freedom will not be handed down. Sovereignty will not be legislated. Truth will not be announced in headlines.

It begins when we stop being actors in their play. When we see the strings, and refuse to dance to them. When we step off the stage and build something unscripted together.

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XIV. Epilogue: The End of the Script

The theatre is collapsing. The curtains are fraying. The actors are stumbling over their lines.

And behind them, the puppeteers are panicking — because they know what happens when the audience sees the trick.

This manifesto is not an answer. It is a mirror.

So when you feel the fear, when you hear the next distraction, when you see the next arena fight breaking out — remember to look up.

The strings are there, waiting to be seen.

The play is ending.

The awakening has begun.