conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for a story with the title 'Terminal Freeze'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Terminal Freeze
  She sighed with irritation, pulled a cigarette from her Hermès handbag, lit it with a snap of her platinum lighter.
  She pushed her chair back, stood up. "I'm headed for my trailer," she announced. "Thanks for a delightful evening."
  Conti—who had looked down again at the notes he'd been scribbling—glanced up once more. "If you run into Ken Toussaint," he said, "please send him to me. I'll either be here or in my quarters."
  Davis placed her coat over her shoulders, not deigning to reply. Brianna, her personal assistant, picked up her own coat and rose from the table. She'd been silent throughout dinner, knowing better than to speak when Davis was in a black mood.
  As she walked briskly toward the doorway, she became aware of someone approaching. It was the man who had trucked her trailer to the site. She glanced at him briefly. He wasn't bad-looking, with the tanned, lean body of a surfer. But his outrageously pastel Hawaiian shirt was in the worst possible taste. He was chewing, cudlike, on an enormous wad of gum.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: They crept forward onto the ice at little more than ten miles per hour. Barbour tensed as she felt the shaking and pounding of the permafrost give way to the far more unsettling sensation of ice flexing beneath them. Carradine frowned with concentration, one hand on the wheel, the other grasping the gearshift. The engine whined as they moved forward. "Gotta keep the RPMs high," he muttered. "Helps prevent spinning out."
  As they ventured farther onto the ice, Barbour could hear a new sound—a faint crackling that seemed to come from all around her, like the sound of cellophane being torn from a Christmas toy. She swallowed painfully. She knew what that sound was: the ice, protesting under the massive weight of the big-rig truck.
  They kept on at what seemed a snail's pace, the crackling growing louder. Snow skittered along the ice, forming eddies and cyclones and odd phantasmal shapes in the headlights. Now and then Barbour heard sharp pops and booms from beneath. She bit her lip, mentally counting the minutes. Suddenly, the truck yawed sideways, sliding to the right. She looked quickly at the trucker.
  She thought a moment before replying. "We're going over an icy patch. Should just be a couple of minutes more."
  Five minutes crawled by, then ten. Barbour realized her right hand had gone numb from gripping the stabilizer bar. The faint give of the ice, the constant crackling and snapping sounds, made her so tense she feared she'd go mad. The wind moaned and cried. Now and then a stronger gust would shove the truck sideways, forcing Carradine to compensate with the greatest of care.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Now and then a stronger gust would shove the truck sideways, forcing Carradine to compensate with the greatest of care.. The wind moaned and cried. The faint give of the ice, the constant crackling and snapping sounds, made her so tense she feared she'd go mad. Barbour realized her right hand had gone numb from gripping the stabilizer bar."
  Five minutes crawled by, then ten. Should just be a couple of minutes more. "We're going over an icy patch.
  She thought a moment before replying. She looked quickly at the trucker. Suddenly, the truck yawed sideways, sliding to the right. She bit her lip, mentally counting the minutes. Now and then Barbour heard sharp pops and booms from beneath. Snow skittered along the ice, forming eddies and cyclones and odd phantasmal shapes in the headlights.
  They kept on at what seemed a snail's pace, the crackling growing louder. She knew what that sound was: the ice, protesting under the massive weight of the big-rig truck. She swallowed painfully."
  As they ventured farther onto the ice, Barbour could hear a new sound—a faint crackling that seemed to come from all around her, like the sound of cellophane being torn from a Christmas toy. "Helps prevent spinning out. "Gotta keep the RPMs high," he muttered. The engine whined as they moved forward. Carradine frowned with concentration, one hand on the wheel, the other grasping the gearshift. Barbour tensed as she felt the shaking and pounding of the permafrost give way to the far more unsettling sensation of ice flexing beneath them.They crept forward onto the ice at little more than ten miles per hour
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The helicopter was landing now outside the security perimeter, beating up diaphanous skeins of powdery snow. Marshall looked at Logan, frowning. "I don't understand what losing a pet has to do with—"
  All of a sudden Logan's implication hit home. Marshall blinked in surprise as the light dawned. "Except that the travelers you're talking about were from much farther away than Rapid City, South Dakota."
  Under the direction of famed explorer Porter Stone, an archaeological team is secretly attempting to locate the tomb of a powerful ancient pharaoh. The dig itself is located in one of the most forbidding places on earth—the Sudd, a nearly impassable swamp in northern Sudan. As a monumental discovery looms within reach, inexplicable—then downright frightening—occurrences begin to plague the expedition. Professor Jeremy Logan may be the one who can decipher these events—and help to avoid a pharaoh's ancient curse.