Christopher Walken and George Lucas are stuck in Library Locked-In Overnight and forced to have a deep conversation.

Walken: (Pauses, staring at a Dewey Decimal sign) You know, George, these books... they’re just stories. But stories... (gestures wildly) ...they're the echoes of the choices we didn't make, the galaxies we didn't conquer.

Lucas: (Sighs, rubbing his beard) It's all about the myth, Chris. The universal narrative. Every hero, every villain, just a different shade of the same archetype.

Walken: Archetypes… (leans in conspiratorially) ...like a clock. Ticking. Always ticking. But who... who winds the clock, George? Who greases the gears?

Lucas: The Force, Chris. It surrounds us, penetrates us, binds the galaxy together. Even here, in this... repository of paper and ink.

Walken: (Taps a book) But what if the Force... what if it has a sense of humor? A dark, twisted humor? Like a tap-dancing alien in a bowling alley.

Lucas: (Looks pensive) Humor is a tool, Chris. A way to connect. To soften the blow of the inevitable, the preordained... the merchandising opportunities.

Walken: (Whispers) Merchandising... (shudders) ...a siren song. Luring us into the quicksand of consumerism. Beautiful, shiny quicksand.

Lucas: It's about legacy, Chris. Leaving something behind. A mark on the universe, even if it's just a plastic lightsaber in a Happy Meal.

Walken: (Smiles faintly) A plastic lightsaber... (eyes gleam) ...a symbol. Of hope. Or despair. Depending on the battery life.

Lucas: (Nods slowly) Exactly. It's all perspective, Chris. And a good sound mix. The sound mix is crucial.