conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled The Good Doctor about Florida, Planning, State with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is a lifelong public servant and writer, graduating from Florida State University and spending time in Russia, Japan, England, Canada, and Central America. He was a six-year Planning Commissioner for the Tallahassee-Leon County Florida Planning Commission, with nearly 18 years in government. He lives with his wife and children in Tallahassee, Florida.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Trained, Daniel, Trained, worked, steering.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is a lifelong public servant and writer, graduating from Florida State University and spending time in Russia, Japan, England, Canada, and Central America. He was a six-year Planning Commissioner for the Tallahassee-Leon County Florida Planning Commission, with nearly 18 years in government. Trained as an urban planner with a career in public health, Daniel worked in a leadership role to find improvements in the short term while steering focus toward long term, sustainable outcomes. He lives with his wife and children in Tallahassee, Florida.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Good Doctor
  It was evening when my father got back from the club. He said he'd played badly. He'd had a few drinks and seemed irritable, but he didn't look sick to me. His voice was still loud and sure of itself, expressing opinions like truths, making jokes, and it was only when we came to dessert that he remembered I wasn't there on holiday.
  So we all went through to the inner chamber again. Valerie and I sat down in the same armchairs, my father settled himself behind the desk. He was pretending to be happy, but I could see that our conversation at the table had upset him. He was moving things around on the top of the desk, looking around the room, till finally his peevishness fixed on a point, and stayed there.
  We sat in silence until one of the maids, an elderly woman, barefoot and aproned, came in with a tray. While she poured, Valerie spoke sideways to her: 'Betty, the flowers...'
  And the old lady in the nice blue uniform set the dying flowers down and got on to her knees. She started crawling across the floor, picking up bits of flowers as she went.
  I came back in darkness, late at night. All the lights were out, except for at the front entrance and in the duty room. Framed by the window, I could see Laurence sitting at the desk inside, very upright and alert, his hands clasped in front of him. Wearing his white coat.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.. End with the sentence ' And soon everybody knew it as an established fact: Tehogo had gone.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: These rational possibilities calmed me more. But underneath them, down at the core, the irrational terror remained. If I put my memory to it, I could relive that primitive instant.
  I left the light on until I fell asleep. But Laurence was there when I woke up and for the first time his clothes, strewn around untidily on the floor, were a comforting sight to me. And the daylight, so steady and warm, made the whole expedition feel insane. None of it was substantial any more and the only tangible evidence was that sore place on my forehead.
  But I was troubled the whole day. I was on duty and the vacant corridors were like a screen on which my mind replayed its images. No patients came in that day. Not one. And Tehogo didn't turn up for duty either. I was alone, encircled by hours and hours of time. When evening came I was weary, tired out by boredom, and for once it was easy to fall asleep.
  In the morning the cut on my forehead had formed a scab. It was starting to heal. And when I went back on duty, I could work up some anger that Tehogo still wasn't there. I went looking for him this time, but his room was locked again and my knocking had a hollow sound to it.
  He wasn't there the next day either. Or the next. And soon everybody knew it as an established fact: Tehogo had gone.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The homelands of South Africa were impoverished and underdeveloped areas of land set aside by the apartheid government for the 'self-determination' of its various black 'nations'.
  I am grateful to the National Arts Council of South Africa for supporting me as writer-in-residence at the University of Cape Town during the latter half of 1998.
  Many thanks are also due to my agent Tony Peake for his honest eye and unwavering support; to Lyn Denny for helping me with a few stray facts; to Alison Lowry and Clara Farmer for their editorial input; and to Riyaz Ahmad Mir for keeping me company.