conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Mississippi, Jackson, American with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Points of Origin'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first paragraph for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Points of Origin
  I'd asked them to call us that, but I hadn't entirely realized the rest of the world would do so as well. It felt funny. Not a bad funny.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I put a long-simmering soup on the stove before I turned to the kids. "Now. Your father. I don't have any specific information—"
  I bit my lip, glancing at Judith. She had closed her eyes. I said, "I can help you look. If there are specific families you want to know about. But Enid—most of the families in the Oort had their ships repossessed. It's not just you."
  None of them believed it. You could see in their faces, they didn't believe it in the least. Living on a planet was an experience they were having, and they would probably talk about it fondly when they were grown—but the idea that they might spend any amount of time with Judith and me had not crossed their minds. And I couldn't really say that we understood what it would mean to raise them to adulthood. I don't know that we'd had the chance to think about it. But I think Judith and I knew that the odds against their dad coming for them were pretty high.
  Judith was the one to propose reading to the boys every night, and Judith had the idea for the outing the next time we had a free weekend. I would never have thought of Magus Station, but when I saw Harry jump up from his train seat and gasp, I knew she was right: it was the perfect place to take them.
  I had to say I was with her: Magus Station is quintessentially Martian, but not what one might call... reserved. Or classy. Nearly every building was made with low-quality peridots from the mining operation, the ones that nobody would want for jewelry, and the effect varied from things that looked like subdued green-yellow glass to a fairy-tale palace, if a fairy-tale palace held the post office and had been decorated by the bad christening fairy's psychotic sister.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: They were such nice little sprouts. The smile came much more naturally to me as I tried to push off and glide away from them—or I thought it had, and then the world moved by too fast to apprehend, and I was lying on my back on the ice.
  When the pain haze cleared—which only took a split second—and I was paying attention again, there were three worried little faces above me. Enid crouched down to check closer. "There, Grandpa, are you all right?" she said. I was only a little dazed—there would be a giant bruise on my backside, and my wrist was a little wrenched—but I let her hover over me and check me like a professional, top to toe. Richard was there to help her get me to my feet, and Harry trailed along close behind.
  The idea of a new setting triggered a thought in my head about the peridots I had wanted to give the children, and after consultation with the netcyclopedia and Judith, I hoped I had an answer. I called Enid into the office where I kept the records about my fish.
  If I had been staging it for a video, I would have slipped the necklace over her head, but by now I knew Enid better than that. She wouldn't have liked it. I simply handed it to her and watched her face as she examined the greeny-gold gems honeycombed with metal. "What is it?" she said.
  A more demonstrative child would have hugged me. Enid just slipped the necklace on and whispered, "I couldn't ever forget that. Not anymore."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ". Not anymore. Enid just slipped the necklace on and whispered, "I couldn't ever forget that.
  A more demonstrative child would have hugged me. "What is it?" she said. I simply handed it to her and watched her face as she examined the greeny-gold gems honeycombed with metal. She wouldn't have liked it.
  If I had been staging it for a video, I would have slipped the necklace over her head, but by now I knew Enid better than that. I called Enid into the office where I kept the records about my fish.
  The idea of a new setting triggered a thought in my head about the peridots I had wanted to give the children, and after consultation with the netcyclopedia and Judith, I hoped I had an answer. Richard was there to help her get me to my feet, and Harry trailed along close behind. I was only a little dazed—there would be a giant bruise on my backside, and my wrist was a little wrenched—but I let her hover over me and check me like a professional, top to toe. "There, Grandpa, are you all right?" she said. Enid crouched down to check closer.
  When the pain haze cleared—which only took a split second—and I was paying attention again, there were three worried little faces above me. The smile came much more naturally to me as I tried to push off and glide away from them—or I thought it had, and then the world moved by too fast to apprehend, and I was lying on my back on the ice.They were such nice little sprouts