conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a plot for a book about Skippy, Dies, Seabrook entitled Skippy Dies
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Skippy Dies: Skippy Dies follows the lives of a group of students and faculty members at the fictional Seabrook College, a Catholic boarding school in Dublin.\nThe title character, Daniel "Skippy" Juster, dies during a donut-eating contest in the novel\'s opening scene.\nThe rest of the novel explores the events leading up to Skippy\'s death, as well as the aftermath within the Seabrook community.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first three paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Skippy Dies
  The boy isn't even pretending to listen; he is chewing gum, which is banned on the very first page of the Employee Manual, and gazing off at the upper reaches of the kitchen walls, which Lynsey notes are discoloured by grease. She keeps going anyway, and the more he sighs and shrugs the slower she gets, just to remind him who's in charge.
  In ordinary circumstances, someone like Zhang would not have even a snowball's chance of making Level Two. But of course these aren't ordinary circumstances. We need to tread carefully here, Lynsey, Senan told her. This business has caused enough trouble for us already. An employee claiming trauma is the last thing we want. Have a chat with him, take his pulse. If he seems disgruntled maybe a promotion would sweeten him up a bit.
  Though at the same time... you can't deny it's romantic, writing her name with his last breath. Like in a way that girl is so lucky – most women won't ever experience anything even close to as romantic as that. She wonders what he was like. Daniel Juster. She imagines the annoying Seabrook boys that crowd in here at lunchtime, and him standing apart, different, sort of quiet and wistful and melancholy... Life is so sad, and love is so unfair. She wonders if Zhang has a girl he's in love with back in China. Maybe he's saving up to go home and marry her. Maybe he misses her and that's why he's so grouchy. She temporarily feels sorry for him and she marks him as twelve out of twenty on the Product Information section even though he has actually scored a zero.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The car park the following morning is crowded with company cars. Today is the first day of the annual milk round, in which representatives of various strands of Big Business – Seabrook fathers and old boys, for the most part – come in and speak one-to-one with final-year students. It was just such an interview, a decade earlier, that had set Howard on the road to London. He can still see Ryan Connolly's dad leaned back in his chair, expanding at length on the futures market and the fortunes to be made there, while on the other side of the table the young Howard thought deeply about Ryan Connolly's car, Ryan Connolly's enormous house with swimming pool, the exotic-sounding holidays to Disney World, St Tropez, Antibes, which Ryan Connolly and Ryan Connolly's dad and Ryan Connolly's incredibly hot mum went on every year.
  He's in the staffroom, boiling the kettle for tea, when he realizes that Brother Jonas has materialized beside him. 'You gave me a fright,' he jokes, clutching his chest. The little man does not return his smile, merely gazes at Howard a moment with those infinitely deep, melting-chocolate eyes. Then he chants, in his soft musical voice, 'Greg would like to see you now.' With that, like a spirit guide, he glides away, not looking back to see if Howard is following.
  A group of sixth-years loiter by the entrance to the Senior Rec Room, where tables and chairs have been set out for the milk round interviews. They are wearing suits – the school encourages a professional approach to the proceedings – of the same tastefully muted tones as the expensive marques in the car park. The change of wardrobe emboldens them; they lean against the door jamb, pronouncing on various topics with careless waves of the hand, the future that has been laid out for them at last being revealed. Howard nods cursorily as he passes them, and they nod back, looking him up and down, perhaps noticing for the first time the less than fresh cut of his own attire.
  Howard enters the office to find the Automator behind his desk, staring intensely at a framed photograph of his boys. Following Howard in and closing the door, Brother Jonas installs himself in the corner, from which he shimmers discreetly like a piece of corporate art. The aquarium bubbles gently.
  The school bell rings for the beginning of class: Howard twitches automatically at the door – 'It's taken care of,' the Automator says leadenly. He rolls his chair back from the desk and in the same dull voice says, 'Tell me, Howard – it's not going to make any difference, of course, but just for my own enlightenment – tell me what you thought you were doing, taking your class off the premises without permission?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Today is the first day of the annual milk round, in which representatives of various strands of Big Business – Seabrook fathers and old boys, for the most part – come in and speak one-to-one with final-year students. It was just such an interview, a decade earlier, that had set Howard on the road to London. He can still see Ryan Connolly's dad leaned back in his chair, expanding at length on the futures market and the fortunes to be made there, while on the other side of the table the young Howard thought deeply about Ryan Connolly's car, Ryan Connolly's enormous house with swimming pool, the exotic-sounding holidays to Disney World, St Tropez, Antibes, which Ryan Connolly and Ryan Connolly's dad and Ryan Connolly's incredibly hot mum went on every year.
  He's in the staffroom, boiling the kettle for tea, when he realizes that Brother Jonas has materialized beside him. 'You gave me a fright,' he jokes, clutching his chest. The little man does not return his smile, merely gazes at Howard a moment with those infinitely deep, melting-chocolate eyes. Then he chants, in his soft musical voice, 'Greg would like to see you now.' With that, like a spirit guide, he glides away, not looking back to see if Howard is following.
  A group of sixth-years loiter by the entrance to the Senior Rec Room, where tables and chairs have been set out for the milk round interviews. They are wearing suits – the school encourages a professional approach to the proceedings – of the same tastefully muted tones as the expensive marques in the car park. The change of wardrobe emboldens them; they lean against the door jamb, pronouncing on various topics with careless waves of the hand, the future that has been laid out for them at last being revealed. Howard nods cursorily as he passes them, and they nod back, looking him up and down, perhaps noticing for the first time the less than fresh cut of his own attire.
  Howard enters the office to find the Automator behind his desk, staring intensely at a framed photograph of his boys. Following Howard in and closing the door, Brother Jonas installs himself in the corner, from which he shimmers discreetly like a piece of corporate art. The aquarium bubbles gently.
  The school bell rings for the beginning of class: Howard twitches automatically at the door – 'It's taken care of,' the Automator says leadenly. He rolls his chair back from the desk and in the same dull voice says, 'Tell me, Howard – it's not going to make any difference, of course, but just for my own enlightenment – tell me what you thought you were doing, taking your class off the premises without permission?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last two paragraphs. End with the sentence ' The company will take care of mundane business and financial matters; the Paraclete Fathers will of course preserve a unique advisory role in the school and have the final say in its spiritual direction.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Police are still looking into the causes of the fire, but it is believed to have been started by a similar electrical fault to the one that interrupted the Christmas concert. There has been much understandable concern among parents at the speed with which the flames spread in an area where students were housed. It goes without saying that these anxieties have been voiced at the very highest levels of the school. My personal feeling is that now is not the time for laying blame. Instead, we must set our minds to the future. For some time now, plans have been circulating to replace the 1865 building with a new, modern wing, and there is no longer any excuse for delay. Until that work is completed, classes for second- and third-years will take place in prefabs that have been very kindly donated by friends of the school; the boarding school will, as you have been notified, remain closed.
  You will have seen reports in the media that the Holy Paraclete Fathers will shortly be turning over the day-to-day running of the school to a private management company. Contrary to these reports, this is a change that has been in train for a long time and is totally unrelated to recent events. More details will be made available in the coming months. At present it suffices to say that the management company will be headed by myself and a board of directors from the Seabrook alumni community, with representatives from parents and from faculty. The company will take care of mundane business and financial matters; the Paraclete Fathers will of course preserve a unique advisory role in the school and have the final say in its spiritual direction.