conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide a description for a book titled Everyone Says That at the End of the World about Earth, Everyone, Inter-dimensional with the genre: Humor & Entertainment, Humor.. End with the sentence 'Combining humor, philosophical inquiry and unforgettable characters, the author leads us through the most bizarre apocalypse ever put to paper.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Earth is the mental asylum of the universe and humans are the incurable inmates..Now the asylum is being shut down. Everyone Says That at the End of the World traces the adventures of a ghost-haunted slacker couple expecting their first child, an outrageously arrogant television actor seeking redemption and a prophetic hermit crab on a cross-country quest as they struggle to survive the final four days of life on Earth. Inter-dimensional time travelers, Jesus clones, and prosthetic limbs all play a role in the catastrophic events leading to the planets end.Combining humor, philosophical inquiry and unforgettable characters, the author leads us through the most bizarre apocalypse ever put to paper.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Everyone Says That at the End of the World
  In month eight, Hayden found the seventeen-year-old in the sauna again, this time snorting cocaine from Winter's sweaty nipples while in the corner, holding a camcorder, stood Deepak Chopra wearing nothing but an impressive erection.
  Hayden Brock and Jim Edwards sat drinking Old Milwaukee beer at a New Mexico rest stop. They watched a wild orange sun sink into the flat sands.
  THE WORLD WAS dark and close. Click had often buried himself in soft sand and felt cool and safe. But Suga Smax did not possess the comforts of sand. The puffs were clunky and clumsy. Sand moves like thick water; Smax move like sticky boulders.
  The world held one hint of light, below him, or above him if he was upside down. The light was a pinprick, so slight that Click wondered if it existed at all. Still, Click was drawn to it. He burrowed through the Smax, maneuvering over and around each puff toward the light. It was a slow, painful crawl. Every inch or so Click would have to stop and remove a piece of Smax that had wedged into his shell. To make things more difficult, often everything would shake and rumble. With nothing unmoving to grip, Click would be rattled to some far corner of his new world. Sometimes he'd land near the edge of the world, where the puffs end and an invisible skin crinkled. Past the skin was a gray, flat sky.
  After each shake, Click would shift to reorient himself and search until he again found the one point of light. Then he'd once more begin the slow climb. For a while the world held still. He crawled and crawled, but the light seemed no closer. He became convinced he was only pushing puffs behind him without moving forward at all. Still he crawled. What else could he do? Finally a puff slipped aside and the light shone before him, particles of sugar floating in the pinhole's single ray.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide three more paragraphs.. End with the sentence '
  But she was here in the cramped ruins, surrounded by wet rubble and the sick green light of the cell phone.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: They crawled for what seemed an hour, pushing stone and sheetrock behind them, inching along. Occasionally a creak emanated from somewhere in the rubble and twice a snap and crash froze Rica's blood. The cell phone lit only a few feet ahead, going dark every few minutes until Rica pressed the screen and it lit green once again.
  The movement was slow. A foot of crawling for minutes of clearing. The debris seemed to be repeating itself, the same tile, the same broken cinder block. Rica shoveled them back. In the green darkness her mind wandered. She remembered high school loves, Dante, Hayden, a dozen letters she never wrote. What if she had sent one? What if she had reached out to him? Laughed at the silly moment in the closet. Tried to meet him again. This baby could have been his. She could be with him now, safe, happy. That life, that parallel path of what could have been shone like a distant lit city. If she stared, she could just make out details. The feel of Sunday mornings, the joy of waking up and knowing you are safe. Her hands were still clearing a path, inching forward. But her mind was drifting far away, living a life of different choices. Another life, finer and fuller. She was happier there. Blessed.
  But she was here in the cramped ruins, surrounded by wet rubble and the sick green light of the cell phone.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A hand touched his. The winds died away and the red scratch of sand was replaced by a pale, white glow. He looked up to see the dark, bearded man in the trucker's hat sitting beside him. The mystery lights surrounded them, buzzing in fast arcs, forming a dome of low, white light that repelled the wind and rain.
  On the other side of the glow mountain-size hunks of earth slipped from the ground and scattered upward. The stars were hidden in the rush of red soil.
  Milton felt a scratching and saw the hermit crab crawling on his leg. He lowered his hand and allowed it to crawl onto his palm.
  Outside the wind stopped, as if all the Earth had inhaled and held a final breath. The debris fell, colliding against the surface. All was quiet and brilliant. Then in a rush, the Earth exhaled and a new wind melted the land into a soft, rolling, cream-colored ocean.
  For an instant Milton was floating in the stars. For an instant he was with his father, his daughter, his lover. For an instant he was the darkness and one dot among an infinite spray of light.