Alfred Hitchcock and Tim Cook are stuck in Underground Bunker in a False Alarm and forced to have a deep conversation.

Hitchcock: (Dryly) Well, Mr. Cook, it seems we're trapped in a suspenseful situation not entirely of my making, yet possessing a certain... dramatic irony.

Cook: (Calmly) Dramatic irony, Mr. Hitchcock? I see it as a system malfunction, a bug we need to identify and resolve with utmost efficiency.

Hitchcock: Efficiency? The anticipation, the dread... that's where the real drama lies, the audience filling in the blanks with their own terror.

Cook: (Steepling his fingers) Our users expect seamless performance, not to be left wondering if their device will brick at any moment.

Hitchcock: But isn't life itself a series of near-bricking experiences, a constant tightrope walk over the abyss?

Cook: (Sighs) We strive to eliminate the abyss, Mr. Hitchcock; to provide a stable, secure platform for human connection.

Hitchcock: (A chuckle escapes) Ah, but the connection is so much sweeter when tinged with the possibility of disconnection, of loss.

Cook: Loss is unacceptable. We build redundancy, backup systems, safeguards against every conceivable failure.

Hitchcock: And yet, failure is inevitable, the ultimate twist in the narrative. Even the best-laid plans…

Cook: (Looking up, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes) We can always do better, Mr. Hitchcock. We *must* always do better.