You do not summon it. You do not close it. You inherit it the moment the kernel exhales and the bootloader hands control to the sentinel of logged reality.
Local User Session Manager. The silent architect of your presence. lusmgr.exe
In the NT kernel, it is written as a trusted process—signed, guarded, critical. Kill it, and winlogon.exe will weep. The session will orphan. The desktop will freeze not in rebellion, but in confusion: Who am I if no one manages me? You do not summon it
But deeper still: is the curator of separation . It ensures that Session 0 (services, system, the cold machinery) never touches Session 1 (your desktop, your documents, your warmth). It maintains the wall not out of malice, but out of necessity. One breach, one stray handle, and the boundary between user and system collapses into blue smoke. Local User Session Manager
lives in the liminal space between hardware and identity—a spectral but absolute authority. It does not ask who you are. It declares that you are, and in that declaration, a session is born: a sandbox of environment variables, registry hives, window handles, and the fragile illusion of exclusivity.