Antonin Scalia and Sigmund Freud are stuck in Lost in a Space Elevator and forced to have a deep conversation.

"This contraption, hurtling us skyward against all God-given gravity, is an abomination against natural order, wouldn't you agree?" Scalia boomed, adjusting his tie.

Freud, stroking his beard, countered, "Perhaps, Justice Scalia, it represents man's latent desire to return to the womb, a technological regression towards the primordial sea."

Scalia scoffed. "Nonsense! It's merely a perversion of engineering, not some Freudian fantasy about oceanic bliss."

"Ah, but is all perversion not rooted in a fundamental drive, a repressed yearning finding an outlet in the unnatural?" Freud inquired, his eyes twinkling.

"The law, unlike your theories, is concerned with what *is*, not what *might be* lurking in the unconscious," Scalia retorted, his voice laced with disdain.

Freud chuckled softly. "But what *is*, Justice, is invariably shaped by the invisible hand of the id, the very foundation upon which your precious legal structures are built."

Scalia paused, considering. "Even if such a thing existed, it would be irrelevant; the law is derived from text, tradition, and reason, not some primal impulse."

"Tell me, Justice, is your unwavering adherence to originalism not, in itself, a powerful manifestation of the death drive, a yearning for a static, unchanging past?" Freud probed.

Scalia, taken aback, harrumphed. "Originalism is about preserving the intent of the Founders, not escaping mortality! It's about fidelity, not fantasy!"

Freud smiled knowingly. "Perhaps, Justice, the two are not as disparate as you believe; perhaps the desire for fidelity *is* the fantasy."