Alan Turing and Stephen King are stuck in Stranded in the Arctic in a Crashed Plane and forced to have a deep conversation.

"The odds of survival, statistically speaking, are grim, but not impossible," Turing stated, his breath clouding the small space.

"Ah, but statistics, Alan, they don't account for the monster under the ice, do they?" King countered, a gleam in his eye despite the dire circumstances.

"Monsters are merely complex patterns we haven't yet deciphered," Turing argued, ever the logician.

"Maybe," King chuckled, "but some patterns are best left unread, some doors unopened, if you catch my drift."

"The human mind, Stephen, is the ultimate encryption device, capable of both creating and concealing the most terrifying realities," Turing mused.

King nodded slowly. "And fear, Alan, fear is the key, the universal solvent that unlocks those hidden horrors."

"But can fear truly exist outside of a system that interprets and anticipates it?" Turing pressed, his mind already racing.

"It's a primal code, Alan, older than any machine, etched into our DNA," King replied, his voice low.

"Perhaps," Turing conceded, "but even primal codes can be broken, understood, even… rewritten."

"God help us if you're right, Alan," King whispered, staring out at the endless white expanse, "because some stories… some stories should never be told."