It's 2032 and the Complete and Total Loser is lying naked on a steel table. It's not an appealing site. He's seventy-four and his never-loved body shows it's age. For some reason, although he has no descendants or people who care about him, his body is being autopsied.
The pathologists do the usual disgusting things that are rote to them with the Loser's intestines and organs. They saw open his bald head and remove his brain. This see this small plastic tab inserted near the base of his skull.
"No!" one of the doctors says to the other. "They never removed this?"
"I guess they didn't," the other says. "How the hell did that happen?"
"I don't think I've seen an example of someone with this not removed in my twenty-seven years of doing this. No wonder this poor man lived such an inferior life, from what I can see on his chart."
"Yeah," says the second doctor. "There would be a hell of a liability suit if there were anyone to press it. And, of course, if the courts hadn't been dissolved in 2028."
"Such a pity. The clarity, intelligence and confidence this man would've had if someone had just remembered to take this out in his infancy."
"Well, what are you gonna do, right?"