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

"This infernal contraption," Scalia boomed, adjusting his glasses, "is an affront to the natural order, defying gravity itself!"

Tupac, leaning against the elevator wall, retorted, "Natural order? The natural order keeps brothas down, pops locked up, ain't no justice in that, G."

"Justice," Scalia countered, "is adherence to the original intent, the Constitution’s bedrock; not some fleeting notion of equity."

"Original intent?" Tupac scoffed, "Try tellin' my momma that when she strugglin' to feed us, them founding fathers weren't thinkin' 'bout her."

Scalia sighed, "The law provides a framework, young man, for ordered liberty, even if its application isn't always perfect."

"Liberty ain't ordered when it's only for the privileged, Justice Scalia," Tupac shot back, his eyes intense.

"But chaos reigns when we abandon principle for emotional whim," Scalia insisted, tapping his cane on the floor.

"Sometimes, you gotta make a little noise to be heard over the system's hum," Tupac countered, his voice softening slightly.

Scalia paused, considering, "Perhaps... perhaps there's a place for both structure and righteous indignation in this world, however imperfectly we achieve it."

Tupac nodded slowly, "Maybe... maybe we both trapped in this space elevator, lookin' for the same damn exit, just comin' at it from different floors."