Chaos erupts. Kyle trips into a rack of tube amps. Constance drops a tray of mini quiches — the sound of shattering ceramic captured in perfect lossless fidelity . Jasper weeps.
“Dude, I just farted. Is that lossless?”
“Lossless means nothing’s missing. But people? We’re all lossy. You ever wish you could go back and find the bits you deleted?”