A wave of energy pulsed and rippled through the darkened front room of the two-story home. It traveled thirty feet and dissipated. Electromagnetic signals grew red and also faded. From the doorway everything could be seen in a hazy x-ray, extending from the living room to the bedroom upstairs. The retrogress scanner was the only light, the condemned house fell quickly back into shadow.

Harvester Asylus entered the home and touched the air to highlight the ancient signals, staring through a face shield. He closed the door to prevent his long coat from flapping in the wind. Primitive humans had been so obsessed with consumerism and the house was littered with random objects, the mechanical signals were all over the place. Pictures were lopsided on the walls of a life that was long forgotten. The people who had lived here were smiling but they had probably never known true happiness. In the kitchen he found rudimentary appliances and obsolete utensils. On the counter was a small rectangular device that had once been used as a personal computer, a method to view a distorted reality. Asylus picked it up and noted the strong aura coming from it. How sad that they depended on these small telephonic machines so heavily. Another trinket for his collection.

He placed it in his jacket and moved to the area of the home known as the living room. There hadn’t been any real living here of course, not in modern terms. This is where the family would come to lay down and do nothing for hours on end. A faint aura was around the big box facing the couch. The rectangle in his pocket was the antecedent to making the big box superfluous. It was from these small devices that humanity banded together to criticize, uplift, demoralize, and comfort one another. Asylus remembered the history of these people. In secret they were lonely. It was the phones that connected them together, links in a chain, water pouring out in an endless digital river.

The TV had been kicked in, plastic shards had decayed into mold and moss. He was glad for it. The phone device he would put on his wall to display the downfall of humanity. It had only led to their separation and division. Coddled and pampered, listening to their own ideals and beliefs being displayed back at them, society had cultivated a series of rules and unspoken, personal laws. Rights and wrongs were individualized.

He looked at the family portraits and tore one off the wall, throwing it on the grass covered floor. Birthed from a glass tube and being raised in indoctrination center taught him the importance of being alone. But he couldn’t help but linger on the idea of a family. The past had stolen that sensation from him. The past had robbed all of civilization from something called humor, an expression of lightheartedness long forgotten because several individuals found it to be offensive. Laughter, with all its terrible derision, had become a foreign concept.

Asylus supposed that the primitives never understood their own boasting and how important it was to the growth of the Transgressions. The sacred laws had to be upheld and he was proud of being part of its delivery. It was the Transgressions that made him a better person, drove him as a young child to push himself harder and focus more deeply.

He activated the retrogress scanner again. The soft blue light echoed like sonar. There were no remains here but the Ultranet had pointed the Harvester to this area. That was when he looked up and saw the biological life essence, shimmering green on the second floor.

The stairs were cracked and bent, the landing was nearly completely missing. Somehow a potted plant hung from the window. It had been overgrown but after a few hundred years Asylus didn’t want to disturb it. Pictures were here too, of an existence of clean water and breathable air. A peaceful world. A world of shopping malls, hair salons, fast food, and instant coffee. A world of accommodations, replacements, and comfort. They didn’t know what they had, and now it was his turn to reap, sow, and bring woe.

He followed the green light to the master bedroom. A hole in the roof allowed rainwater and sewage seep through. Beams had collapsed onto the bed but that wasn’t where the body was. The skeleton was at his feet, arm outstretched. The man had been old, living alone and died from injuries to his torso. A scan of the man’s skull brought a virtual representation in front of Asylus, which grew with virtual neurons, recreated from the post-transgressor. Data ran across his interface and slowly filled in the personification that stood before him. The gaps were filled in with textures and visuals from ancient pictures.

The recreated brain was ready to be activated. Asylus blinked hard to bring the simulation to life. The man, appearing in his seventies, blinked back and staggered, looking around his ruined bedroom. “Wha…what? Where am I?” Jerry Wilson, as his name tag indicated, was naturally shaken and tried to step out of bounds of the digitization but couldn’t. “Who are you?”

Asylus put up his hand, “I am a Harvester. Your home, where you’ve been for seven hundred years. You’ve lived an extravagant life, Mr. Wilson.”

“Extravagant?” He shouted, eyes darting. “I’ve lived a life I could afford and I think I’ve earned it. Is this the afterlife? What is this?”

The simulation was as real as if he were alive and that excited Asylus. Of course, he was just a representation but there was still penance that needed to be paid. “This is not the afterlife, not yet. First you must face sentence. You are in violation of the Transgressions, our code and scripture. Even in death you cannot escape damnation. An eternity of virtual hellfire awaits you.”

“Hellfire?! I was always a good Christian and law-abiding citizen. I did everything I could to be good to my neighbors.”

“No.” Answered the Harvester. “We, the Surviving Union of the Ostrio Nation, judge you to be condemned. You have committed twelve violations against our culture and society.”

“So I’ve been dead…for that long? Haven’t I been pardoned for such crimes? Why should I be accountable for my actions after my death.” Mr. Wilson looked down and seemed to ponder this last word.

“You are guilty of such transgressions against your fellow man. You requested the cancelation of many shows and individuals on your social media accounts. This is forbidden. The other transgressions are much more severe. You were a consumer. Current law dictates that consumerism is forbidden. Usage of plants for anything other than photosynthesis is also forbidden. You’ve used 2 tons of toilet paper, 120 condoms, 4 tons of Styrofoam cups, and 4 tons of other paper and plastic products. Your gas emissions were well above the standards and your electrical output has been hazardous to the environment.”

“This isn’t fair!” Mr. Wilson threw up his arms and gestured desperately.

“You must all be held accountable to today’s standards, regardless of your deceased status. Prepare to be incarcerated into the digital realm of the infernal underworld.” With that Harvester Asylus opened his palm where an orb appeared in the virtual space. Jerry Wilson’s persona was sucked into its void and quickly disappeared, along with the orb itself.

Another digital ghost detained. The world was a safer place. He breathed out deeply and smiled, knowing that the toxicity of the past would not taint the future. The relief quickly faded. His scanner chimed with another prehistoric life signal. Accountability was a never-ending job.