conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a title for a book about BZRK, UpFans, Reloaded with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'BZRK Apocalypse'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: BZRK Apocalypse
  They had walked out of the safe house, both feeling that there was too little air in the place, both needing to be reassured that the outside world still existed.
  They looked at each other, and Keats knew that a vast distance had opened up between them. He had wanted nothing so much as to close the much smaller distance that had persisted, even during the idyll on Île Sainte-Marie. Instead, he had dug the Grand Canyon and now looked at her across it.
  She had not raged at him. She seemed too tired to be very angry that he had unwired her without permission, in fact in direct rejection of her wishes. The temperature of their conversation was cold, not hot. She stood with her hands down at her sides. Her eyes were as big as ever, but now they seemed to be looking just past him, refusing to make eye contact.
  Keats wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but it might have seemed as if he hadn't trusted her. Then...
  She nodded. No emotion. Yes, she had ordered up an atrocity. No emotion. Yes, she had ordered mass murder. Nothing.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It was split-screened now on the news: half showed the remaining, yet-to-be rounded up loons from the Hollywood premiere; half showed the Tulip aflame. The crawl along the bottom was all about the Plague of Madness.
  Bug Man said nothing. This was his future now. He would live or die at Lear's whim. Or she might just let him go crazy.
  Three windows were open in his head. None of them showed much at the moment, just glimpses of the biots themselves. It was different than twitching nanobots, more intimate. You had only to think and the biot would move. No wonder BZRK had been so tough to beat. No wonder Vincent had ended up drooling nuts.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: No wonder Vincent had ended up drooling nuts. The crawl along the bottom was all about the Plague of Madness.
  Bug Man said nothing. This was his future now. He would live or die at Lear's whim. Or she might just let him go crazy.
  Three windows were open in his head. None of them showed much at the moment, just glimpses of the biots themselves. It was different than twitching nanobots, more intimate. You had only to think and the biot would move. No wonder BZRK had been so tough to beat.It was split-screened now on the news: half showed the remaining, yet-to-be rounded up loons from the Hollywood premiere; half showed the Tulip aflame.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Sadie sat for a while longer with Noah's mother and left her with enough small gold bars to take the edge off her poverty.
  She and Wilkes walked down streets that still showed the bullet holes, the fire scorches, the wreckage of the Plague of Madness. But London had suffered this badly before in its long history and knew how to put itself back together. Crews were at work. There were police on the streets. Life was slowly returning.
  They were in front of what had once been a pizza restaurant, but was now burned out and choked with rubble.
  When business was slow at Poet Pizza, she would sit in a corner booth with her old friends, Anthony and Wilkes. Their daughter would tease the cooks while their baby son chuckled on his father's lap.
  Ten thousand miles away to the south, Michael Ford, once known as Vincent, supervised the skeleton staff that maintained what had become, in effect, a prison.