conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first four paragraphs for a book with the title 'Lost in Translation'?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lost in Translation
  A door meant either special efforts at security, which certainly fit with the secrecy surrounding this whole assignment, or a prison. But it was absurd to conjecture an elaborate plot to capture him. He couldn't imagine a motive, for one thing; for another, Yvekkarr radiated friendliness and respect. So, when Yvekkarr opened the door, he stepped through into the firelit room without hesitation, claws scraping on a stone floor still stained by the blood of all the slaughtered beasts that had hung there so many years before.
  Feeling as if he'd stepped back in time, Jarrikk found his voice. "Greetings, Flight Leader Kitillikk."
  Another S'sinn, a powerful male, stepped into the light from the shadows behind Jarrikk's old leader. "Translator Jarrikk," he said gravely.
  Jarrikk bowed his head slightly. "I am at your command. Within the bounds of my Guild Oath, of course. With what race am I to Translate?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Akkanndikk's wings flashed scarlet in the sunshine, covered from shoulder to tip with blood-red paint. The thousands with Kitillikk gazed raptly as somewhere a priest intoned a description of the ceremony, but Kitillikk preferred her own commentary. "In her reign Hunters die of old age, not in battle," she growled. "When I am Supreme Flight Leader, the Hunter of Worlds will feast on the ugly flesh of humans and the sweet blood of our strong young warriors!"
  Ukkarr gave her a sideways glance. "I confess surprise at this sudden surge of piety, Flight Leader."
  The Supreme Flight Leader spread her wings to land—and Kitillikk stiffened. In her prey-sight, all was clear, and the sudden outbreak of shouting all around her indicated the crowd saw, too, as a shape suddenly sprang up on the platform. "Ukkarr, the time is at hand!" Kitillikk breathed. "Human, I salute you!"
  A flash like lightning. The Supreme Flight Leader's wings collapsed and she dropped, crashing onto the next platform down on the tower, one scarlet wing draped over the edge. The Left Wing dove toward her, while the Right hurled herself at the human. The beamer lashed out again, and the Right Wing snapped into a fluttering spin that ended when one of the upthrust "fangs" of the Temple wall impaled her. Blood streaked the stones. Her wings jerked twice, then fell limp.
  The thousands roosting around and below Kitillikk surged this way and that in confusion and shrieking horror. Some tried to fly and collided with others, sending both crashing into the S'sinn on the ground. There would be more dead and wounded in the crowd, Kitillikk thought. All of which could be laid at the human's feet. She raked her prey-sight over the spire again, but the human had vanished.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She and Jarrikk had decided, on the journey back to Commonwealth Central, that they could not allow the Guild to know about the power they had within themselves. They could not hide the low-level telepathy—they'd demonstrated it too often—but the other, the projective telepathy, and most especially the horrible possibilities of using their powers as a weapon, they would reveal to no one.
  The Guild meant well, Kathryn supposed. It had made the Commonwealth possible, and so far it had kept the peace. But there were always strains, and nothing lasted forever. Someday there would be a new Guildmaster. The power they had found—the power to make anybody believe anything you wanted them to, and worse, the power to drive sentients mad—they must keep to themselves, or someday someone like Kitillikk or Jim would find a war it could serve.
  As Jarrikk had said, they were still upholding their Oath to serve and preserve the Commonwealth. As they had broken the letter of the Oath once before to preserve its spirit, so they must do so again, but this time, it must be permanent.
  They would leave the Guild. They would take Jarrikk to Earth, for regeneration therapy, and then...
  Well, then, they had the whole galaxy to explore, and at least for the moment, at least in their small corner of it, it was at peace.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She and Jarrikk had decided, on the journey back to Commonwealth Central, that they could not allow the Guild to know about the power they had within themselves. They could not hide the low-level telepathy—they'd demonstrated it too often—but the other, the projective telepathy, and most especially the horrible possibilities of using their powers as a weapon, they would reveal to no one.
  The Guild meant well, Kathryn supposed. It had made the Commonwealth possible, and so far it had kept the peace. But there were always strains, and nothing lasted forever. Someday there would be a new Guildmaster. The power they had found—the power to make anybody believe anything you wanted them to, and worse, the power to drive sentients mad—they must keep to themselves, or someday someone like Kitillikk or Jim would find a war it could serve.
  As Jarrikk had said, they were still upholding their Oath to serve and preserve the Commonwealth. As they had broken the letter of the Oath once before to preserve its spirit, so they must do so again, but this time, it must be permanent.
  They would leave the Guild. They would take Jarrikk to Earth, for regeneration therapy, and then...