conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a story about Indianapolis, Indiana, Louis with the genre: Christian Books & Bibles, Christian Living?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this story could be 'The Patient in Room Nine Says He's God'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first two paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Patient in Room Nine Says He's God
  Reid is a fascinating individual. He went to school at Brown, the bastion of liberalism. When George Bush won the last election he went into a deep depression and threatened to move to Canada or Nicaragua. I, of course, tried to comfort him by turning his car radio to Rush Limbaugh, by inviting him to Republican fundraisers, and by putting 'Bush/Cheney' stickers on his car. I even carved a pumpkin in the silhouette of a large penis and put it in his front yard while he was on vacation. This was after he put a 'for sale' sign in my front yard with the number 696-6969 as the inquiry line. By the way, cars stopped in front of his house for two straight nights taking photographs of the pumpkin my three sons and I carved.
  Reid may be the funniest, most entertaining person I have ever met, and he has become a great source of comic relief and a great friend. He is also one of those new age hippies/venture capitalists who has made a lot of money in the steel industry and has used his good fortune to start a charter school for the under-privileged, and a school and clinic in South America. He also does all of these cognitive psychology and group counseling session seminars. At times, I think he would be better suited for Berkeley, since his ideology in the heart of Indiana sticks out like a rabbi in Saudi Arabia. He recommended the name of a cognitive psychologist to discuss my dilemma.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: And there he was: her husband and one of her children. "Dr. Profeta... remember me... you took care of my wife." He held out his hand. I clutched it in both of mine.
  I tried to flash him a smile, shuffling my feet and looking at the floor. At that moment I had a suspicion that God was laughing at my expense, like watching your child do something stupid but harmless. The check was a goner. "I'm driving the kids to Florida next week; we've never been on vacation before."
  I nodded my head and shuffled my feet some more. "Uhhhh... I meant to call you. I have a check for $500 sitting on my desk for you." A look of confused surprise crossed his face. "You remember how I posted your wife's case in real time on this doctor's blog? Well, this other doctor nominated it for an award on this blog and it won. So stop by tomorrow and I'll give you the check."
  The next day he stopped into the ER with his children in tow. I give him the check, and he just looked at me in bewilderment.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: We are taping the present so that in the future we can watch the past that we never saw when it was happening. We have turned into thousands of water buffalo, jostling for positions at the front of our watering hole: a darkened auditorium, hoping to capture on video that one special moment in time, when we instead should be capturing them on the hard drives of our souls. You can't see God through a video lens. In time my mind will fade, my eyes will falter, but as I go gently into that good night, I will have with me my most prized possessions... my memories.
  I exited Room Nine, the soft light slowly retreated back into the sanctuary from where it came. With a gentle clack, the brushed steel knob engaged the door frame. The hallway seemed brighter and more inviting. I glanced down at my watch: 3:30 A.M.
  The nurse caught up to me in the corridor. "So, did God have anything to say?" she asked half-jokingly.
  I paused, looked back at the door, shook my head, and gave her the faintest of grins. "Not yet, but then again we're just getting started."
  A puzzled look danced across her mask of fatigue. "Maybe, you weren't listening well enough," she replied.