conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide a description for a book titled Unnatural Exposure about English, Engels, Anglais with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Mystery.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: / 0316883344 / English literature / Engels / English / Anglais / Englisch / hard cover / dust jacket / 24 x 16 cm / 338.pp /
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide a plot for a book titled Unnatural Exposure about English, Engels, Anglais with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Mystery.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Unnatural Exposure (novel): Virginia Chief Medical Examiner Kay Scarpetta has a bloody puzzle on her hands: five headless, limbless cadavers in Ireland, plus four similar victims in a landfill back home.\nIs a serial butcher loose in Virginia.\nThat's what the panicked public thinks, thanks to a local TV reporter who got the leaked news from Scarpetta's rival, Investigator Percy Ring.\nBut this is no run-of-the-mill serial killer.\nA shadowy figure has plans involving mutant smallpox, mass murder, and messing with Scarpetta's mind by e-mailing her hot naked photos of the murder scenes, along with cryptic AOL chat-room messages.\nCentral to the plot is the case of Janet Parker, the last person known to have died of smallpox, which she contracted in 1978 due to a lab accident in Birmingham, England, after the disease was eradicated in the wild.\nCornwell makes the villain a junior employee of the lab at the time who was made a scapegoat for the accident and whose career was blighted as a result.\nThis provides the plot with a credible source for the virus and a motive for the central crime.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: \nThis provides the plot with a credible source for the virus and a motive for the central crime.\nIs a serial butcher loose in Virginia.\nThat's what the panicked public thinks, thanks to a local TV reporter who got the leaked news from Scarpetta's rival, Investigator Percy Ring.\nBut this is no run-of-the-mill serial killer.\nA shadowy figure has plans involving mutant smallpox, mass murder, and messing with Scarpetta's mind by e-mailing her hot naked photos of the murder scenes, along with cryptic AOL chat-room messages.\nCentral to the plot is the case of Janet Parker, the last person known to have died of smallpox, which she contracted in 1978 due to a lab accident in Birmingham, England, after the disease was eradicated in the wild.\nCornwell makes the villain a junior employee of the lab at the time who was made a scapegoat for the accident and whose career was blighted as a result.Unnatural Exposure (novel): Virginia Chief Medical Examiner Kay Scarpetta has a bloody puzzle on her hands: five headless, limbless cadavers in Ireland, plus four similar victims in a landfill back home.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Unnatural Exposure
  Night fell clean and cold in Dublin, and wind moaned beyond my room as if a million pipes played the air. Gusts shook old windowpanes and sounded like spirits rushing past as I rearranged pillows one more time, finally resting on my back in a snarl of Irish linen. But sleep would not touch me, and images from the day returned. I saw bodies without limbs or heads, and sat up, sweating.
  I switched on lamps, and the Shelbourne Hotel was suddenly around me in a warm glow of rich old woods and deep red plaids. I put on a robe, my eyes lingering on the phone by my fitfully-slept-in bed. It was almost two A.M. In Richmond, Virginia, it would be five hours earlier, and Pete Marino, commander of the city police department's homicide squad, should be up. He was probably watching TV, smoking, eating something bad for him, unless he was on the street.
  I could hear him moving farther away from his pals as I rearranged the duvet around me. I reached for the last few sips of Black Bush I had carried to bed.
  He certainly hadn't thought so at first. No one really had. I was the chief medical examiner of Virginia, and when the Royal College of Surgeons had invited me to give a series of lectures at Trinity's medical school, I could not pass up an opportunity to investigate the Dublin crimes. Marino had thought it a waste of time, while the FBI had assumed the value of the research would prove to be little more than statistical.
  Doubts were understandable. The homicides in Ireland were more than ten years old, and as was true in the Virginia cases, there was so little to go on. We did not have fingerprints, dentition, sinus configurations or witnesses for identification. We did not have biological samples from people missing to compare to the victims' DNA. We did not know the means of death. Therefore, it was very difficult to say much about the killer, except that I believed he was experienced with a meat saw and quite possibly used one in his profession, or had at one time.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'I had known her during my residency days, and had always believed that kind words from faculty like her had everything to do with why I had come to mind when the chief's position had opened in Virginia'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I had known her during my residency days, and had always believed that kind words from faculty like her had everything to do with why I had come to mind when the chief's position had opened in Virginia. She was close to my age and had never married, her short hair the same dark gray as her eyes, and she always wore the same gold cross necklace that looked antique. Her parents were American, but she had been born in England, which was where she had trained and worked in her first lab.
  I followed her into the small, dark room, where she had been at work before the phone had rung. Slipping on the lab coat, I found a chair as she peered into a green phosphorescent screen inside the huge viewing chamber. The TEM looked more like an instrument for oceanography or astronomy than a normal microscope. The chamber always reminded me of the dive helmet of a dry suit through which one could see eerie, ghostly images in an iridescent sea.
  Through a thick metal cylinder called the scope, running from the chamber to the ceiling, a hundred-thousand-volt beam was striking my specimen, which in this case was liver that had been shaved to a thickness of six or seven one-hundredths of a micron. Smears like the ones I had viewed with my light microscope were simply too thick for the electron beam to pass through.
  Knowing this at autopsy, I had fixed liver and spleen sections in glutaraldehyde, which penetrated tissue very rapidly. These I had sent to Crowder, who I knew would eventually have them embedded in plastic and cut on the ultramicrotome, then the diamond knife, before being mounted on a tiny copper grid and stained with uranium and lead ions.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He took both my hands. "You can put this to rest right now. Mark is dead. I swear. Do you really think I could have this relationship with you if I knew he were alive somewhere?" he passionately said. "Jesus. How can you even imagine I could do something like that!"
  He hesitated again, this time longer, and for an instant, his eyes were filled with pity for me and it looked like he might cry. "Kay, it wasn't a he. Mark was with a woman."
  A teenager with body piercing and a mohawk slammed a locker door. We waited until he sauntered off with his girl in black leather.
  Outside it was damp with a numbing wind blowing, and the line of cabs around the station did not end. We walked hand in hand and bought bottles of Hooper's Hooch, because one could drink alcoholic lemonade on the streets of England. Police on dappled horses clopped past Buckingham Palace, and in St. James's Park, a band of guards in bearskin caps were marching while people pointed cameras. Trees swayed and drums faded as we walked back to the Athenaeum Hotel on Piccadilly.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Trees swayed and drums faded as we walked back to the Athenaeum Hotel on Piccadilly.. James's Park, a band of guards in bearskin caps were marching while people pointed cameras. Police on dappled horses clopped past Buckingham Palace, and in St. We walked hand in hand and bought bottles of Hooper's Hooch, because one could drink alcoholic lemonade on the streets of England.
  Outside it was damp with a numbing wind blowing, and the line of cabs around the station did not end. We waited until he sauntered off with his girl in black leather."
  A teenager with body piercing and a mohawk slammed a locker door. Mark was with a woman. "Kay, it wasn't a he. How can you even imagine I could do something like that!"
  He hesitated again, this time longer, and for an instant, his eyes were filled with pity for me and it looked like he might cry. "Jesus. Do you really think I could have this relationship with you if I knew he were alive somewhere?" he passionately said. I swear. Mark is dead. "You can put this to rest right now.He took both my hands