C.S. Lewis and Christopher Walken are stuck in Remote Lighthouse During a Storm and forced to have a deep conversation.

Here's the conversation:

Lewis: Blast this tempest! It feels as though the very foundations of reality are being shaken, not just this lonely tower, wouldn't you agree?

Walken: (Pauses, stares out at the storm) Reality, yeah. It's like, a… a vast stage, Mr. Lewis. With really bad lighting, and a lot of screaming.

Lewis: Indeed. And yet, within the screaming, there must be a still point, a source of unwavering truth, a divine orchestra conductor, wouldn't you say?

Walken: (Turns slowly, fixes Lewis with a gaze) Truth... it's a fickle thing. Like a… a stray cat. You try to pet it, it bites.

Lewis: But surely, even a biting cat seeks warmth, a connection, a reflection of the divine love that birthed it, however distorted.

Walken: Love... (Walken chuckles) It's a powerful thing. Like a… a loaded gun. Gotta know where you're aiming.

Lewis: Precisely! Free will, the capacity for both immense good and unspeakable evil, is the very crux of our human drama.

Walken: Drama... yeah. Life's a show. And the… the ending? Nobody ever sees it coming.

Lewis: But even the final curtain reveals something, does it not? A glimpse of the eternal, shining through the cracks of mortality.

Walken: (Looks back at the storm, a flicker of something in his eyes) Eternal... Maybe. Or maybe, just… static.