conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Australia's, William's, John with the genre: Literature & Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'The White Earth'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first four paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The White Earth
  In the wake of the Mabo judgment, the federal government is currently drawing up plans for sweeping Native Title legislation which it plans to introduce before the end of the year. This will alienate land to the black minority, and affect us all directly! It is vital that we meet to formulate an action plan and ensure our voices are heard before it's too late. As president, I am happy to offer my own property as a meeting ground, and a date has been set for...
  The article went on, talking about the federal government and about legislation and the prime minister, Mr Keating. There were many words William didn't understand.
  William nodded. He set his hand to the handle and began to turn. It wasn't hard, and freshly printed pages slid into the tray, one by one.
  His uncle patted him on the shoulder.'Just keep going till the paper runs out. Five hundred copies. Call me if they start to smudge too badly.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know four more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: William had nothing to say. The way she spoke about the League was so bizarre. He had always known that his mother, for instance, didn't approve of his uncle's activities... but that had seemed mostly because of the money the old man wasted. This was different. Ruth sounded almost amused by the League, in a cruel way. He found his eyes drawn to the flagpole in front of the House. And for the first time since the rally, he noticed that the Eureka flag was no longer hanging there.
  William shifted his legs uncomfortably. Her judgment was spoken with all the weight of her years, and he couldn't argue.
  She fell silent. As it was, William already felt he'd heard too much, seen a hidden part of his uncle's life nakedly exposed. All the things he'd thought he understood, they sounded different when they came from her — twisted and strange. He remembered his uncle's warning. Maybe she was just trying to confuse him. But why? Indeed, why was she talking to him at all? If it was the station she wanted, then it was her father she had to deal with.
  Instead, she smiled. 'You don't have to worry, you know. I don't want it. Not the House. Not the property. Not any of it.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: '. The way she spoke about the League was so bizarre. He had always known that his mother, for instance, didn't approve of his uncle's activities... but that had seemed mostly because of the money the old man wasted. This was different. Ruth sounded almost amused by the League, in a cruel way. He found his eyes drawn to the flagpole in front of the House. And for the first time since the rally, he noticed that the Eureka flag was no longer hanging there.
  William shifted his legs uncomfortably. Her judgment was spoken with all the weight of her years, and he couldn't argue.
  She fell silent. As it was, William already felt he'd heard too much, seen a hidden part of his uncle's life nakedly exposed. All the things he'd thought he understood, they sounded different when they came from her — twisted and strange. He remembered his uncle's warning. Maybe she was just trying to confuse him. But why? Indeed, why was she talking to him at all? If it was the station she wanted, then it was her father she had to deal with.
  Instead, she smiled. 'You don't have to worry, you know. I don't want it. Not the House. Not the property. Not any of it.William had nothing to say.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last four paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It was time to go. Her hands and face hurt, and every bone ached. She would leave the boy to his sleep, and then maybe later they would talk and see what needed to be done. She turned towards the door. Just then William stirred, moaning incoherent words. She hesitated. But he was sedated, she knew, and too exhausted, surely, for bad dreams.
  She glanced once more at the rain against the windows. A memory came. The smell of earth, and of wheat, and the feeling of a familiar hand upon her head, rough with calluses, and so strong. All of it wasted, all of it ruined.
  Thanks also to Professor Maurice French for his advice, and for the resource of his comprehensive histories. And to Jonathan Richards for some obscurer details.
  And finally, thanks to my brother Martin for his medical information, and to my brother Peter, for a timely comment about water catchments.