He was dead and yet he was filled with trepidation. He was sent to that room in hell where bullies and trolls are forced to exprience what his victims felt. He had insulted many. He had berated belittled and baited. There was a lineup of thousands he recognized few. He had carried on his attacks anonymously. He had been an internet troll.

The first one came in and sat down. He felt his consiousness being transferred to the victim's body. Now he could see himself through the other person's eyes. A voice said "You are looking a Martin Gibson." Images flashed through the mind; of cursing and cajoling and witty insults, of booming bragging about everything from literary prowess to sexual adequecy. As the images started to sink in, the victim started to react, with laughter, peals and peals of of uproarious laughter.

It's not so bad thought Gibson. Maybe the next one will be hurt.