David Pilcher is granted access to the engine room where Wilford oversees the last bastion of humanity on the Snowpiercer.

David Pilcher: Mr. Wilford, I’ve heard quite a bit about your extraordinary train. A remarkable feat of engineering and social design, under the most dire of circumstances.

Wilford: Dr. Pilcher, the visionary of Wayward Pines. It’s not often we have the luxury of exchanging ideas with another who understands the weight of carrying humanity’s future. Please, call me Wilford. What brings you to this cold slice of survival?

David Pilcher: I’ve been exploring different methodologies of salvaging our species. Your train is a testament to adaptation—survival in motion. Wayward Pines was an attempt to create a static sanctuary, but as you are aware, it came with its own set of challenges.

Wilford: Indeed. Static, you say? A town, if I’m not mistaken? Your enclosure predates the cataclysm we’ve endured, doesn’t it? Ingenious, to plan so far ahead.

David Pilcher: Without foresight, there is no future. Nonetheless, even the best-laid plans can falter. Entropy is not just a physical principle but a societal one. Our isolation bred its own form of chaos.

Wilford: A problem I, too, am familiar with. On the Snowpiercer, the balance of humanity and resources is precarious. One must act with a firm hand to prevent disorder. Our train is perpetual, but its society is anything but.

David Pilcher: Society has always been the greater puzzle, hasn’t it? Biology, climate, these can be measured and predicted. Human will and spirit? How do you find controlling such elements in an environment like this?

Wilford: It’s a delicate balance between oppression and freedom, guidance and autonomy. The key to maintaining order is giving the illusion of control while pulling the necessary strings from behind the curtain.

David Pilcher: A tactic I am well acquainted with. I resorted to surveillance, a necessary evil to protect our fragile existence. And yet, there comes a time when the people must know the truth, lest you find rebellion knocking at your door.

Wilford: The truth is a luxury in a brittle world. Here, within these steel walls, truth is what I decree it to be. To ensure survival, sacrifices must be made. People need structure, purpose, a common enemy.

David Pilcher: Ah, yes, the common enemy—the aberrations within my own project served that purpose well. Though I must ask, Wilford, do you not fear the cost of such control? The potential erosion of the very essence that makes us human?

Wilford: A cost every ruler weighs. Still, I would argue that humanity’s essence is elastic. It can be shaped, stretched, even remolded, to fit the times. The alternative—annihilation—is not a risk I am willing to take.

David Pilcher: A viewpoint as cold as the world outside these walls. Nevertheless, we share the same burden, the same audacious hope to shepherd humanity through its darkest epoch.

Wilford: Then let us both hope our legacies will be looked upon favorably when the frost thaws or the aberrations cease. Until that uncertain future, let us keep the engines running and the walls secure, Dr. Pilcher.

David Pilcher: A sentiment I echo, Mr. Wilford. In this icy expanse, as in my walled Eden, survival is the greatest testament to our work. Despite our differing methods, may our endeavors preserve the flame of civilization.

Both leaders, with a nod of mutual understanding, return to their respective tasks of maintaining the fragile orders they’ve established, contemplating the heavy costs of their choices in the solitude of their responsibilities. 이를 한국어로 번역해주세요