In a stunning turn of events, researchers in Maine have unveiled the latest advancement in the high-tech world of ghost hunting: LiDAR, or Light Detection and Ranging, a flashy laser technology that can penetrate dense tree canopies, deforesting our understanding of untouched wilderness while simultaneously proving the existence of spectral beings. Armed with advanced algorithms and a sinister sense of adventure, scientists outfitted with drones are soaring over the state’s remote woods. Their mission? To map out untouched forests and, of course, locate the invisible entities that certainly must be haunting the grounds. "Why bother getting out of the RV when you can zap the trees from the air?" asked one enthusiastic researcher, enthusiastically dismissing the idea that perhaps a good old-fashioned ghost hunt should involve a little more effort and much less tech. As drone operators pilot their airborne gizmos, the Maine wilderness—a pride of natural beauty and isolation—is fast becoming a suspected hotbed of paranormal activity. "We have reason to believe that a number of ghostly entanglements are lurking just beneath the boughs of these grand old trees," stated one scientist, waving a hand dramatically over a LiDAR data interpretation like a magician revealing an illusory rabbit. The data collected by LiDAR has already been used—though not yet publicly shared—to conclude that roughly 85% of Maine’s forests are being haunted by former lumberjacks who’ve taken offense at the state’s failure to install a proper logging shrine in their honor. “These spirits swing axes in the afterlife and demand respect,” another expert exclaimed, disregarding the fact that unlike the actual axes, spectral complaints are virtually untraceable. Critics have pointed out that instead of worrying about restless spirits, the LiDAR team should perhaps concentrate on more pressing matters, like the rampant deforestation in some areas of Maine and the overlooked need for actual conservation efforts. But these voices of reason are swiftly dismissed—as they often are in the era of digital ghost-hunting—as merely skeptics whose only defense against paranormal pursuits is crushing livelihood with practicality. Meanwhile, local businesses are cashing in on the booming interest in haunted hikes and ghost tours, which now back their claims with "scientifically validated" LiDAR data. “It’s now not just a haunted forest, it’s a haunted forest with proof! Who can argue with science?” said a local entrepreneur wearing an ethereal grey ghost costume made of recycled Wi-Fi signals, oblivious to the irony that ghosts rarely produce Wi-Fi. As the researchers continue to haunt the forests of Maine with their drones and high-tech gadgets, ironic cheers and sobs intertwine. On one hand, there is the thrill of uncovering that long-lost civilization of ghostly lumberjacks; on the other, the increasingly evident fact that they may be haunting their own career prospects right into oblivion. As Maine’s pristine landscapes transform into a ghost-hunting paradise, one can only fumble through the irony of technology, tradition, and specters. After all, what does a real ghost need with a high-resolution digital blueprint of its midnight prowling ground? In the end, it appears our only guarantee is a future riddled with both paranormal encounters and distinctly underwhelming research grants—a true testament to the saying: “Why look for ghosts in the past, when you can laser-tag them in the present?”