conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for a book with the title 'The Last President'.. Start with the sentence 'The Last President
  Phat cleared his throat'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Last President
  Phat cleared his throat. "You're overestimating the time to get both Temper and the Provi forces back on line. They won't be as good as what we've lost but we'll have a functioning army—well, two functioning armies—well before the end of the summer. First of all, a black-powder foot army just doesn't take as long to train, and besides, as soon as we can get the Army of the Wabash onto trains and shipped back to their home territories, that's a lot of men who have lived through combat. Give them a chance to win, and some time to train more militia from back home, and they'll be there for you. Don't sell those old sergeants in Temper territory short; there's a reason why they used to say a good sergeant had to be trilingual, English, Spanish, and Alabaman.
  Leslie had been listening intently. "What the Commandant is doing is treason by the standards of Article III, Section 3. If we could arrest him it would be a short trial and a quick hanging."
  James froze, taken completely by surprise. Heather and Leslie had turned away from him to face Quattro; they sat perfectly still. Behind Quattro, Phat seemed to be looking for something to say. Bambi rose slowly, reaching tentatively around her husband to take him in her arms, but he gently pushed her away. "My god," he said. "Look what we've gotten into and what we're thinking about. I started wondering about us when we went busting into a family Christmas and murdered the dad. I flew over the camps on the Ohio where Grayson piled tribal bodies ten deep. And now... we've had a whole army beaten, surrounded, and saved just because Jenny Whilmire Grayson was too crazy to let them give up. And with only twenty-two airplanes on the whole continent, we let one be shot down, and the pilot—who was also one of the most expert airplane designers we have—was burned alive. And now we're sitting here saying well, we can't do anything for Pale Bluff, one of the most decent civilized places there is and one we've depended on for so many things, and we're going to just let the enemy have it, to murder and loot and burn. And so where do we put our attention? Into getting our army out of there? No. Into avenging Nancy Teirson? Not a bit. Into maybe, just maybe, at least fucking trying to save several thousand civilized people that have been a total bulwark for our side, from being burned out and butchered? Oh, no. No no no. Perish fucking forbid. We're trying to decide how to keep our consciences clear while we kill the leader of one of our few working, functioning port cities. I'm so fucking proud of you all I could just fucking piss my pants.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: When the first tribals with spears appeared at the other end of the field, Quattro, Asanté, and the ground crew had already pulled off the grounding wires and reconnected everything on the Gooney. "I still wish," the chief began.
  The ground crew piled in, the chief going last, and strapped down on the benches. Asanté took his place at the gun. Quattro revved up; the sound of the plane apparently attracted more tribals, for suddenly they were running out onto the end of the runway. He gave the engine full throttle and roared toward them, lifting off just in time to clear them by scant feet, and climbing as quickly as the Gooney could manage.
  The brilliant flash of light gave him just a moment to realize that the EMP, this time, was right overhead. The spark for the engines stopped, and they coughed on fuel-air mix they could not ignite, the propellers slowing, not even finishing a complete turn. Wires on the plane reached far above their kindling points, but most did not have time to burst into flame; the men in the back were lashed by shocks but the signals from the neurons just under their skin never reached their brains.
  In the small airspace in one of the almost-full fuel tanks, a spark touched off an explosion just big enough to rupture the tank and mix the fuel thoroughly into the air in the heated, sparking interior of the plane; there was a moment of terrible light and pain, and then nothing for those within. Outside, in the burning town strewn with bodies, the cheers and drumming grew louder and louder.
  He was the sort of guy that Lyndon Phat had always disliked on sight, and always forced himself to be nice to. Somehow, even through the food shortages and the disappearance of most mechanical work-savers in the past year and a half, this guy Davey Prinche had managed to remain pudgy and out of shape; there was something subtly dirty and messy about every aspect of him, from his grimy T-shirt to his crude coat-hanger glasses, and from the dirty dishes scattered among the tools on his workbench to the grime under his fingernails.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Somehow, even through the food shortages and the disappearance of most mechanical work-savers in the past year and a half, this guy Davey Prinche had managed to remain pudgy and out of shape; there was something subtly dirty and messy about every aspect of him, from his grimy T-shirt to his crude coat-hanger glasses, and from the dirty dishes scattered among the tools on his workbench to the grime under his fingernails. "I still wish," the chief began.
  The ground crew piled in, the chief going last, and strapped down on the benches. Asanté took his place at the gun. Quattro revved up; the sound of the plane apparently attracted more tribals, for suddenly they were running out onto the end of the runway. He gave the engine full throttle and roared toward them, lifting off just in time to clear them by scant feet, and climbing as quickly as the Gooney could manage.
  The brilliant flash of light gave him just a moment to realize that the EMP, this time, was right overhead. The spark for the engines stopped, and they coughed on fuel-air mix they could not ignite, the propellers slowing, not even finishing a complete turn. Wires on the plane reached far above their kindling points, but most did not have time to burst into flame; the men in the back were lashed by shocks but the signals from the neurons just under their skin never reached their brains.
  In the small airspace in one of the almost-full fuel tanks, a spark touched off an explosion just big enough to rupture the tank and mix the fuel thoroughly into the air in the heated, sparking interior of the plane; there was a moment of terrible light and pain, and then nothing for those within. Outside, in the burning town strewn with bodies, the cheers and drumming grew louder and louder.
  He was the sort of guy that Lyndon Phat had always disliked on sight, and always forced himself to be nice to.When the first tribals with spears appeared at the other end of the field, Quattro, Asanté, and the ground crew had already pulled off the grounding wires and reconnected everything on the Gooney.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.. End with the sentence ' This can result in apparently inconsistent, yet correct, capitalization on the same page or within a single sentence, and I just wanted it clearly stated that Luann Reed-Siegel has in fact done an excellent job with it, and that since I reviewed and approved it, any errors remaining are entirely my fault.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Leslie took his hand and leaned against him. When they had walked a little way in a closer embrace than he'd ever felt from her before, he said, "Are we ready to, um, take things to the next level?"
  First of all, I want to begin by saying that Luann Reed-Siegel has done an absolutely brilliant job in copyediting a very difficult manuscript.
  Thus the President is the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces and the Vice President presides over the Senate, but the president and vice president sometimes order a pizza in and spend the evening watching the Three Stooges (who, curiously, have no Federal function).
  Similarly, the United States has an army and a navy but the Constitution governs the relationship between the rest of the government and the Army and Navy. This can result in apparently inconsistent, yet correct, capitalization on the same page or within a single sentence, and I just wanted it clearly stated that Luann Reed-Siegel has in fact done an excellent job with it, and that since I reviewed and approved it, any errors remaining are entirely my fault.