conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Blood relative about Christian, Romanov, Tsarevich with the genre: History, Russia.. Start with the sentence 'the author is the author's adopted name'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is the author's adopted name. He does not know what his real Christian name would have been. He does, however know that his surname would have been Romanov. the author's contention is that his father was Tsarevich Alexei and his grandparents were Nicholas and Alexandria.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Blood Relative about York, City, Edgemont with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the authors short stories of mystery and suspense have been published in numerous magazines and periodicals across the country. He is a retired school administrator from the New York City and Edgemont school districts and is currently living in Glen Cove, Long Island. This is his first published novel.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Blood relative
  Nu Earth is a hellish, nightmare planet ravaged by war. The planet's atmosphere is devoid of life, poisoned by repeated chemical attacks and deadly to inhale. But the planet is close to a vital wormhole in space, a fact which has dragged its two rival factions - the Norts and the Southers - into a never-ending war. Now Nu Earth is a toxic, hell-blasted rock, where millions of soldiers in bio-suits wage bloody battles and die in their millions. Nu Earth is too important to lose. Not an inch of ground can be lost!
  Here is where the legend of Rogue Trooper was born. Created by Souther forces, Rogue Trooper is the sole surviving example of the Genetic Infantrymen: a regiment of soldiers grown in vats and bio-engineered to be the perfect killing machine. Complete with protective blue skin and the ability to breathe the venomous atmosphere, the Genetic Infantrymen became renowned figures on both sides of the conflict. Moreover, the mind and soul of the GI could be downloaded onto a silicon chip in case of a mortal wound on the battlefield. Once downloaded, the dog-chip could then be slotted into special equipment and preserved until the soldier could grace a newly grown body.
  Betrayed by a general in their own high command, almost the entire regiment of GIs were wiped out in the Quartz Zone Massacre. The sole survivor managed to save just three chips from his former comrades and slot them into his gun, helmet and backpack. Now he is a loner, with just the disembodied personalities of his comrades for company, roaming the chemical wasteland in search of revenge: the Rogue Trooper.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The guard from the lift didn't acknowledge him and continued to walk away. It was then that the korporal realised the other Nort trooper was wearing his chem-suit hood up.
  He should have recalled his men. He should have approached the figure with backup; instead he strode over to the guard and spun him around. "I gave you an order-"
  The korporal's words died in his throat as he matched gazes with the reptilian yellow eyes staring out at him from the goggles of the full-face hood. "GI!"
  The voice was muffled as it came through the heavy hatch. "There's been a prisoner breakout on this level! The Genetik Infantryman is loose!"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: "There's been a prisoner breakout on this level! The Genetik Infantryman is loose!". It was then that the korporal realised the other Nort trooper was wearing his chem-suit hood up.
  He should have recalled his men. He should have approached the figure with backup; instead he strode over to the guard and spun him around. "I gave you an order-"
  The korporal's words died in his throat as he matched gazes with the reptilian yellow eyes staring out at him from the goggles of the full-face hood. "GI!"
  The voice was muffled as it came through the heavy hatch.The guard from the lift didn't acknowledge him and continued to walk away.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: In the foothills to the west the echo of Domain Delta's death was muted and hollow, like the grumble of distant thunder. The broken remnants of a highway lay nearby, a relic of the infrastructure of a colonial civilisation that died in the crib. From a distance, the low blockhouse lying next to the road appeared to be nothing more than an abandoned guard post, a pillbox bunker where guns could train on passing traffic; but there were no guns and there had been no traffic on this highway for a decade.
  Something moved in the shadows of the bunker. Puffs of rusty dust coiled in the thick, hot air. A heavy iron hatch, sunk into the metal decking to match seamlessly with its surroundings, twitched. Beneath, strength borne from precision gene-engineering forced the hatch open and a blue-skinned figure emerged from the darkness.
  Rogue emerged from the bunker, blinking. The sky had a peculiar cast to it, a mottled red-orange like the colour of old, dried blood. He slipped a pair of eighty-eight grenades off his webbing strap and clipped them together, dialling a short fuse on the timer. He pulled the arming pins and threw them into the bunker's doorway before sprinting away. The grenades blew with a flat thunderclap of air and the pillbox roof caved in.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The grenades blew with a flat thunderclap of air and the pillbox roof caved in.. He pulled the arming pins and threw them into the bunker's doorway before sprinting away. He slipped a pair of eighty-eight grenades off his webbing strap and clipped them together, dialling a short fuse on the timer. The sky had a peculiar cast to it, a mottled red-orange like the colour of old, dried blood.
  Rogue emerged from the bunker, blinking. Beneath, strength borne from precision gene-engineering forced the hatch open and a blue-skinned figure emerged from the darkness. A heavy iron hatch, sunk into the metal decking to match seamlessly with its surroundings, twitched. Puffs of rusty dust coiled in the thick, hot air.
  Something moved in the shadows of the bunker. From a distance, the low blockhouse lying next to the road appeared to be nothing more than an abandoned guard post, a pillbox bunker where guns could train on passing traffic; but there were no guns and there had been no traffic on this highway for a decade. The broken remnants of a highway lay nearby, a relic of the infrastructure of a colonial civilisation that died in the crib.In the foothills to the west the echo of Domain Delta's death was muted and hollow, like the grumble of distant thunder