conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Two-time, Hugo-winner, I>Chronospace</I with the genre: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Chronospace'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Chronospace
  Without really intending to do so, Murphy balled his right hand into a fist, swung it at Franc's face. He hadn't hit anyone since he was a teenager, though, and Franc saw it coming. He ducked the punch, but in doing so he lost his balance. His feet slipped on the icy sidewalk and he fell sideways, sprawling against the concrete basin surrounding the Reflecting Pool. He yelped in pain, then rolled away, wincing in pain as he clutched his left elbow
  Murphy sat down on the wall. Like it or not, Franc was right. He was an old man... worse, an old man stuck out of time. For chrissakes, he couldn't even punch out someone anymore, not even in anger. If he was going to survive the winter streets of Washington in 1998, he was going to have to do better than that. A lot better.
  Franc didn't immediately answer. He gazed off into the distance, studying the thin spire of the Washington Monument at the far end of the mall. A few tentative flakes of snow were beginning to drift down from the slate sky. It was the beginning of a cold and sunless afternoon, with the threat of many more like it to come.
  Consciousness returned as the gentle sensation of movement within darkness, interrupted now and then by an abrupt jar, a sporadic glimmer of light. From somewhere nearby he heard a wet flopping sound.
  At first he thought he was at home and in bed—it was early morning, and Donna was nudging him awake; the alarm must not have gone off, and it was time to go to work—but then he opened his eyes and discovered the source of the sound: windshield wipers, brushing aside thick flakes of snow streaming past headlights like thousands of tiny stars.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is four more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Their boots crunched softly as they left the cars behind and trod into the pasture. Murphy's imagination briefly entertained a dark thought—his frozen corpse, found face-down in the snow in this very spot by a park ranger—yet he found himself more perplexed than afraid. Somehow, he intuitively knew that he wouldn't come to any harm.
  About twenty feet from the road, the old man stopped. "Okay, we're here." He pointed into the darkness ahead. "Now watch... this is where it gets interesting."
  It appeared quietly, reverse-phasing out of the storm as if it had been there all the time. Indeed, it must have, for its upper fuselage was covered with snow and shallow drifts were piled around its wedge-shaped landing gear. Yet they were so close to it that, had he taken a few more steps, Murphy would have walked facefirst into one of the lowered flanges.
  Murphy felt his heart skip a beat. Unable to breathe, let alone muster the startled scream that caught halfway up his throat, he staggered back, his legs obeying an instinctive urge to flee, until his numbed feet slipped out from beneath him and he toppled to the ground. He landed on his back, his arms sprawled out on either side; for an absurd moment he looked as if he were trying to make a snow angel.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He landed on his back, his arms sprawled out on either side; for an absurd moment he looked as if he were trying to make a snow angel.. Unable to breathe, let alone muster the startled scream that caught halfway up his throat, he staggered back, his legs obeying an instinctive urge to flee, until his numbed feet slipped out from beneath him and he toppled to the ground.
  Murphy felt his heart skip a beat. Yet they were so close to it that, had he taken a few more steps, Murphy would have walked facefirst into one of the lowered flanges. Indeed, it must have, for its upper fuselage was covered with snow and shallow drifts were piled around its wedge-shaped landing gear."
  It appeared quietly, reverse-phasing out of the storm as if it had been there all the time. this is where it gets interesting... "Now watch." He pointed into the darkness ahead. "Okay, we're here.
  About twenty feet from the road, the old man stopped. Somehow, he intuitively knew that he wouldn't come to any harm. Murphy's imagination briefly entertained a dark thought—his frozen corpse, found face-down in the snow in this very spot by a park ranger—yet he found himself more perplexed than afraid.Their boots crunched softly as they left the cars behind and trod into the pasture
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Franc stood near the open front passenger door, still gazing into the sky. Murphy realized that he was looking upon a man lost in time, as homeless as any individual in history has ever been. When Franc lowered his face, Murphy noticed a faint wetness around his eyes. Franc saw him; he nodded once, distantly, then ducked his head and climbed into the car.
  Murphy walked back to his own car, used the brush to clear the snow away from the windows. While his back was still turned, he heard Zack start the engine. The taillights flashed an amber glow across the windshield, then the tires crunched against the icepack as the car moved away, heading down the road out of the park.
  Murphy resisted the impulse to watch them leave. Somehow, it seemed better that he not know which direction they were taking.
  Murphy waited another moment, then he opened the car door and settled in behind the wheel. It had been a long Monday, and now it was time to go home.
  For their assistance in the development of this novel, I'm grateful to the following individuals: Mark W. Tiedemann, Gregory Benford, Stanley Schmidt, Jim Young, Matt Visser, Scott Crawford, Ken Moore, Beth Gwinn, Judith Klein-Dial, my father-in-law Frank Jacobs, and my sister Rachel Steele.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Franc stood near the open front passenger door, still gazing into the sky. Murphy realized that he was looking upon a man lost in time, as homeless as any individual in history has ever been. When Franc lowered his face, Murphy noticed a faint wetness around his eyes. Franc saw him; he nodded once, distantly, then ducked his head and climbed into the car.
  Murphy walked back to his own car, used the brush to clear the snow away from the windows. While his back was still turned, he heard Zack start the engine. The taillights flashed an amber glow across the windshield, then the tires crunched against the icepack as the car moved away, heading down the road out of the park.
  Murphy resisted the impulse to watch them leave. Somehow, it seemed better that he not know which direction they were taking.
  Murphy waited another moment, then he opened the car door and settled in behind the wheel. It had been a long Monday, and now it was time to go home.
  For their assistance in the development of this novel, I'm grateful to the following individuals: Mark W.