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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: Story collab\nContext: May include established elements\nMe: Opening\nYou: 18 sentences more, 2001_ a space odyssey-style",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moon-Watcher and his companions had no recollection of what they had seen, after the crystal had ceased to cast its hypnotic spell over their minds and to experiment with their bodies. The next day, as they went out to forage, they passed it with scarcely a second thought; it was now part of the disregarded background of their lives. They could not eat it, and it could not eat them; therefore it was not important.\n\nDown at the river, the Others made their usual ineffectual threats. Their leader, a one-eared man-ape of Moon-Watcher's size and age, but in poorer condition, even made a brief foray toward the tribe's territory, screaming loudly and waving his arms in an attempt to scare the opposition and to bolster his own courage.\n\nThe water of the stream was nowhere more than a foot deep, but the farther One-Ear moved out into it, the more uncertain and unhappy he became. Very soon he slowed to a halt, and then moved back, with exaggerated dignity, to join his companions.\n\nOtherwise, there was no change in the normal routine. The tribe gathered just enough nourishment to survive for another day, and no one died.\n\nAnd that night, the crystal slab was still waiting; surrounded by its pulsing aura of light and sound. The program it had contrived, however, was now subtly different.\n\nSome, of the man-apes it ignored completely, as if it was concentrating on the most promising subjects.\n\nOne of them was Moon-Watcher; once again he felt inquisitive tendrils creeping down the unused byways of his brain. And presently, he began to see visions. They might have been within the crystal block; they might have been wholly inside his mind. In any event, to Moon-Watcher they were completely real. Yet somehow the usual automatic impulse to drive off invaders of his territory had been lulled into quiescence.\n\nHe was looking at a peaceful family group, differing in only one respect from the scenes he knew.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The male, female, and two infants that had mysteriously appeared before him were gorged and replete, with sleek and glossy pelts - and this was a condition of life that Moon-Watcher had never imagined.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Unconsciously, he felt his own protruding ribs; the ribs of these creatures were hidden in rolls of fat.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "From time to time they stirred lazily, as they lolled at ease near the entrance of a cave, apparently at peace with the world.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "/* <<USAGE LIMIT>>: 'crystal' must be used 4 times */",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Occasionally; the big male emitted a monumental burp of contentment.\n\nThere was no other activity, and after five minutes the scene suddenly faded out. The crystal was no more than a glimmering outline in the darkness; Moon-Watcher shook himself as if awaking from a dream, abruptly realized where he was, and led the tribe back to the caves.\n\nHe had no conscious memory of what he had seen; but that night, as he sat brooding at the entrance of his lair, his ears attuned to the noises of the world around him, Moon-Watcher felt the first faint twinges of a new and potent emotion. It was a vague and diffuse sense of envy - of dissatisfaction with his life. He had no idea of its cause, still less of its cure; but discontent had come into his soul, and he had taken one small step toward humanity.\n\nNight after night, the spectacle of those four plump man-apes was repeated, until it had become a source of fascinated exasperation, serving to increase Moon-Watcher's eternal, gnawing hunger. The evidence of his eyes could not have produced this effect; it needed psychological reinforcement. There were gaps in Moon-Watcher's life now that he would never remember, when the very atoms of his simple brain were being twisted into new patterns. If he survived, those patterns would become eternal, for his genes would pass them on to future generations.\n\nIt was a slow, tedious business, but the crystal monolith was patient. Neither it, nor its replicas scattered across half the globe, expected to succeed with all the scores of groups involved in the experiment. A hundred failures would not matter, when a single success could change the destiny of the world.\n\nBy the time of the next new moon, the tribe had seen one birth and two deaths. One of these had been due to starvation; the other had occurred during the nightly ritual, when a man-ape had suddenly collapsed while attempting to tap two pieces of stone delicately together. At once, the crystal had darkened, and the tribe had been released from the spell. But the fallen man-ape had not moved; and by the morning, of course, the body was gone.\n\nThere had been no performance the next night; the crystal was still analyzing its mistake.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The tribe streamed past it through the gathering dusk, ignoring its presence completely.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The night after, it was ready for them again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The four plump man-apes were still there, and now they were doing extraordinary things. Moon-Watcher began to tremble uncontrollably; he felt as if his brain would burst, and wanted to turn away his eyes. But that remorseless mental control would not relax its grip; he was compelled to follow the lesson to the end, though all his instincts revolted against it.\n\nThose instincts had served his ancestors well, in the days of warm rains and lush fertility, when food was to be had everywhere for the plucking. Now times had changed, and the inherited wisdom of the past had become folly. The man-apes must adapt, or they must die - like the greater beasts who had gone before them, and whose bones now lay sealed within the limestone hills.\n\nSo Moon-Watcher stared at the crystal monolith with unblinking eyes, while his brain lay open to its still uncertain manipulations. Often he felt nausea, but always he felt hunger; and from time to time his hands clenched unconsciously in the patterns that would determine his new way of life.\n\nAs the line of warthogs moved snuffling and grunting across the trail, Moon-Watcher came to a sudden halt. Pigs and man-apes had always ignored each other, for there was no conflict of interest between them. Like most animals that did not compete for the same food, they merely kept out of each other's way.\n\nYet now Moon-Watcher stood looking at them, wavering back and forth uncertainly as he was buffeted by impulses which he could not understand, Then, as if in a dream, he started searching the ground - though for what, he could not have explained even if he had had the power of speech. He would recognize it when he saw it.\n\nIt was a heavy, pointed stone about six inches long, and though it did not fit his hand perfectly, it would do. As he swung his hand around, puzzled by its suddenly increased weight, he felt a pleasing sense of power and authority. He started to move toward the nearest pig.\n\nIt was a young and foolish animal, even by the undemanding standards of warthog intelligence. Though it observed him out of the corner of its eye, it did not take him seriously until much too late.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Why should it suspect these harmless creatures of any evil intent?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 8 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It went on rooting up the grass until Moon-Watcher's stone hammer obliterated its dim consciousness. The remainder of the herd continued grazing unalarmed, for the murder had been swift and silent.\n\nAll the other man-apes in the group had stopped to watch, and now they crowded round Moon-Watcher and his victim with admiring wonder. Presently one of them picked up the blood-stained weapon, and began to pound the dead pig. Others joined in with any sticks and stones that they could gather, until theirt target began a messy disintegration.\n\nThen they became bored; some wandered off, while others stood hesitantly around the unrecognizable corpse - the future of a world waiting upon their decision. It was a surprisingly long time before one of the nursing females began to lick the gory stone she was holding in her paws.\n\nAnd it was longer still before Moon-Watcher, despite all that he had been shown, really understood that he need never be hungry again.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "ur a writing helper. partner writes, u do next 5 sentences. might have existing chars/stuff - roll with it",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As he led the tribe down to the river in the dim light of dawn, Moon-Watcher paused uncertainly at a familiar spot. Something, he knew, was missing; but what it was, he could not remember. He wasted no mental effort on the problem, for this morning he had more important matters on his mind.\n\nLike thunder and lightning and clouds and eclipses, the great block of crystal had departed as mysteriously as it had come. Having vanished into the nonexistent past, it never troubled Moon-Watcher's thoughts again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He would never know what it had done to him; and none of his companions wondered, as they gathered round him in the morning mist, why he had paused for a moment here on the way to the river.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "[System: Use 'their' 4 times in response]",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From their side of the stream, in the never-violated safety of their own territory, the Others first saw Moon-Watcher and a dozen males of his tribe as a moving frieze against the dawn sky. At once they began to scream their daily challenge; but this time, there was no answer.\n\nSteadily, purposefully - above all, silently - Moon-Watcher and his band descended the low hillock that overlooked the river; and as they approached, the Others became suddenly quiet. Their ritual rage ebbed away, to be replaced by a mounting fear. They were dimly aware that something had happened, and that this encounter was unlike all those that had ever gone before.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The bone clubs and knives that Moon-Watcher's group carried did not alarm them, for they did not understand their purpose. They only knew that their rivals' movements were now imbued with determination, and with menace.\n\nThe party stopped at the water's edge, and for a moment the Others' courage revived. Led by One-Ear, they halfheartedly resumed their battle chant. It lasted only a few seconds before a vision of terror struck then dumb.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Moon-Watcher raised his arms high into the air, revealing the burden that until now had been concealed by the hirsute bodies of his companions.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was holding a stout branch, and impaled upon it was the bloody head of the leopard. The mouth had been jammed open with a stick, and the great fangs gleamed a ghastly white in the first rays of the rising sun.\n\nMost of the Others were too paralyzed with fright to move; but some began a slow, stumbling retreat. That was all the encouragement that Moon-Watcher needed. Still holding the mangled trophy above his head, he started to cross the stream.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "After a moment's hesitation, his companions splashed after him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When Moon-Watcher reached the far side, One-Ear was still standing his ground. Perhaps he was too brave or too stupid to run; perhaps he could not really believe that this outrage was actually happening. Coward or hero, it made no difference in the end, as the frozen snarl of death came crashing down upon his uncomprehending head.\n\nShrieking with fright, the Others scattered into the bush; but presently they would return, and soon they would forget their lost leader.\n\nFor a few seconds Moon-Watcher stood uncertainly above his new victim, trying to grasp the strange and wonderful fact that the dead leopard could kill again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Now he was master of the world, and he was not quite sure what to do next.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But he would thinkof something.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Today you will be acting as a writing assistant, your partner will send something and you will write the next 49 sentences. The story may reference existing characters and events - incorporate them as presented.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "[ Special Flight ]\n\nNo matter how many times you left Earth, Dr. Heywood Floyd told himself, the excitement never really palled. He had been to Mars once, to the Moon three times, and to the various space stations more often than he could remember. Yet as the moment of takeoff approached, he was conscious of a rising tension, a feeling of wonder and awe - yes; and of nervousness - which put him on the same level as any Earthlubber about to receive his first baptism of space.\n\nThe jet that had rushed him here from Washington, after that midnight briefing with the President, was now dropping down toward one of the most familiar, yet most exciting, landscapes in all the world. There lay the first two generations of the Space Age, spanning twenty miles of the Florida coast to the south, outlined by winking red warning lights, were the giant gantries of the Saturns and Neptunes, that had set men on the path to the planets, and had now passed into history. Near the horizon, a gleaming silver tower bathed in floodlights, stood the last of the Saturn V's, for almost twenty years a national monument and place of pilgrimage. Not far away, looming against the sky like a man-made mountain, was the incredible bulk of the Vehicle Assembly Building, still the largest single structure on Earth.\n\nBut these things now belonged to the past, and he was flying toward the future. As they banked, Dr. Floyd could see below him a maze of buildings, then a great airstrip, then a broad, dead-straight scar across the fiat Florida landscape - the multiple rails of a giant launch-lug track. At its end, surrounded by vehicles and gantries, a spaceplane lay gleaming in a pool of light, being prepared for its leap to the stars. In a sudden failure of perspective, brought on by his swift changes of speed and height, it seemed to Floyd that he was looking down on a small silver moth, caught in the beam of a flashlight.\n\nThen the tiny, scurrying figures on the ground brought home to him the real size of the spacecraft; it must have been two hundred feet across the narrow V of its wings.\n\nAnd that enormous vehicle, Floyd told himself with some incredulity - yet also with some pride - is waiting for me. As far as he knew, it was the first time that an entire mission had been set up to take a single man to the Moon.\n\nThough, it was two o'clock in the morning, a group of reporters and cameramen intercepted him on his way to the floodlit Orion III spacecraft. He knew several of them by sight, for as Chairman of the National Council of Astronautics, the news conference was part of his way of life. This was neither the time nor the place for one, and he had nothing to say; but it was important not to offend the gentlemen of the communications media.\n\n\"Dr. Floyd? I'm Jim Forster of Associated News. Could you give us a few words about this flight of yours?\"\n\n\"I'm very sorry - I can't say anything.\"\n\n\"But you did meet with the President earlier this evening?\" asked a familiar voice.\n\n\"Oh - hello, Mike. I'm afraid you've been dragged out of bed for nothing. Definitely no comment.\"\n\n\"Can you at least confirm or deny that some kind of epidemic has broken out on the Moon?\" a TV reporter asked, managing to jog alongside and keep Floyd properly framed in his miniature TV camera.\n\n\"Sorry,\" said Floyd, shaking his head.\n\n\"What about the quarantine?\" asked another reporter. \"How long will it be kept on?\"\n\n\"Still no comment.\"\n\n\"Dr. Floyd,\" demanded a very short and determined lady of the press, \"what possible justification can there be for this total blackout of news from the Moon? Has it anything to do with the political situation?\"\n\n\"What political situation?\" Floyd asked dryly. There was a sprinkle of laughter, and someone called, \"Have a good trip, Doctor!\" as he made his way into the sanctuary of the boarding gantry.\n\nAs long, as he could remember, it had been not a \"situation\" so much as a permanent crisis. Since the 1970s, the world had been dominated by two problems which, ironically, tended to cancel each other out.\n\nThough birth control was cheap, reliable, and endorsed by all the main religions, it had come too late; the population of the world was now six billion - a third of them in the Chinese Empire. Laws had even been passed in some authoritarian societies limiting families to two children, but their enforcement had proved impracticable. As a result, food was short in every country; even the United States had meatless days, and widespread famine was predicted within fifteen years, despite heroic efforts to farm the sea and to develop synthetic foods.\n\nWith the need for international cooperation more urgent than ever, there were still as many frontiers as in any earlier age. In a million years, the human race had lost few of its aggressive instincts; along symbolic lines visible only to politicians, the thirty-eight nuclear powers watched one another with belligerent anxiety. Among them, they possessed sufficient megatonnage to remove the entire surface crust of the planet. Although there had been - miraculously - no use of atomic weapons, this situation could hardly last forever.\n\nAnd now, for their own inscrutable reasons, the Chinese were offering to the smallest have-not nations a complete nuclear capability of fifty warheads and delivery systems. The cost was under $200,000,000, and easy terms could be arranged.\n\nPerhaps they were only trying to shore up their sagging economy, by turning obsolete weapons systems into hard cash, as some observers had suggested. Or perhaps they had discovered methods of warfare so advanced that they no longer had need of such toys; there had been talk of radio-hypnosis from satellite transmitters, compulsion viruses, and blackmail by synthetic diseases for which they alone possessed the antidote.\n\nThese charming ideas were almost certainly propaganda or pure fantasy, but it was not safe to discount any of them. Every time Floyd took off from Earth, he wondered if it would still be there when the time came to return.\n\nThe trim stewardess greeted him as he entered the cabin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Good morning, Dr. Floyd. I'm Miss Simmons - I'd like to welcome you aboard on behalf of Captain Tynes and our copilot, First Officer Ballard.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you,\" said Floyd with a smile, wondering why stewardesses always had to sound like robot tour guides.\n\n\"Takeoff's in five minutes,\" she said, gesturing into the empty twenty-passenger cabin. \"You can take any seat you want, but Captain Tynes recommends the forward window seat on the left, if you want to watch the docking operations.\"\n\n\"I'll do that,\" he answered, moving toward the preferred seat. The stewardess fussed over him awhile and then moved to her cubicle at the rear of the cabin.\n\nFloyd settled down in his seat, adjusted the safety harness around waist and shoulders, and strapped his briefcase to the adjacent seat. A moment later, the loudspeaker came on with a soft popping noise. \"Good morning,\" said Miss Simmons' voice. \"This is Special Flight 3, Kennedy to Space Station One.\"\n\nShe was determined, it seemed, to go through the full routine for her solitary passenger, and Floyd could not resist a smile as she continued inexorably.\n\n\"Our transit time will be fifty-five minutes. Maximum acceleration will be two-gee, and we will be weightless for thirty minutes. Please do not leave your seat until the safety sign is lit.\"\n\nFloyd looked over his shoulder and called, \"Thank you.\" He caught a glimpse of a slightly embarrassed but charming smile.\n\nHe leaned back into his seat and relaxed. This trip, he calculated, would cost the taxpayers slightly over a million dollars. If it was not justified, he would be out of his job; but he could always go back to the university and to his interrupted studies of planetary formation.\n\n\"Auto-countdown procedures all Go,\" the captain's voice said over the speaker with the soothing singsong used in RT chat. \"Lift-off in one minute.\"\n\nAs always, it seemed more like an hour. Floyd became acutely aware of the gigantic forces coiled up around him, waiting to be released. In the fuel tanks of the two spacecraft, and in the power storage system of the launching track, was pent up the energy of a nuclear bomb. And it would all be used to take him a mere two hundred miles from Earth.\n\nThere was none of the old-fashioned FIVE-FOIJR-THREE-TWO-ONE-ZERO business, so tough on the human nervous system.\n\n\"Launching in fifteen seconds. You will be more comfortable if you start breathing deeply.\"\n\nThat was good psychology, and good physiology.\n\nFloyd felt himself well charged with oxygen, and ready to tackle anything, when the launching track began to sling its thousand-ton payload out over the Atlantic.\n\nIt was hard to tell when they lifted from the track and became airborne, but when the roar of the rockets suddenly doubled its fury, and Floyd found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the cushions of his seat, he knew that the first-stage engines had taken over. He wished he could look out of the window, but it was an effort even to turn his head, Yet there was no discomfort; indeed, the pressure of acceleration and the overwhelming thunder of the motors produced an extraordinary euphoria. His ears ringing, the blood pounding in his veins, Floyd felt more alive than he had for years. He was young again, he wanted to sing aloud - which was certainly safe, for no one could possibly hear him.\n\nThe mood passed swiftly, as he suddenly realized that he was leaving Earth, and everything he had ever loved. Down there were his three children, motherless since his wife had taken that fatal flight to Europe ten years ago. (Ten years? Impossible! Yet it was so...) Perhaps, for their sake, he should have remarried.\n\nHe had almost lost sense of time when the pressure and the noise abruptly slackened, and the cabin speaker announced: \"Preparing to separate from lower stage. Here we go.\"\n\nThere was a slight jolt; and suddenly Floyd recalled a quotation of Leonardo da Vinci's which he had once seen displayed in a NASA office:\n\nThe Great Bird will take its flight on the back of the great bird, bringing glory to the nest where it was born.\n\nWell, the Great Bird was flying now, beyond all the dreams of da Vinci, and its exhausted companion was winging back to earth. In a ten-thousand-mile arc, the empty lower stage would glide down into the atmosphere, trading speed for distance as it homed on Kennedy. In a few hours, serviced and refueled, it would be ready again to lift another companion toward the shining silence with it could never reach.\n\nNow, thought Floyd, we are on our own, more than halfway to orbit. When the acceleration came on again, as the upper stage rockets fired, the thrust was much more gentle: indeed, he felt no more than normal gravity. But it would have been impossible to walk, since \"Up\" was straight toward the front of the cabin. If he had been foolish enough to leave his seat, he would have crashed at once against the rear wall.\n\nThis effect was a little disconcerting, for it seemed that the ship was standing on its tail. To Floyd, who was at the very front of the cabin, all the seats appeared to be fixed on a wall topping vertically beneath him. He was doing his best to ignore this uncomfortable illusion when dawn exploded outside the ship.\n\nIn seconds, they shot through veils of crimson and pink and gold and blue into the piercing white of day.\n\nThough the windows were heavily tinted to reduce the glare, the probing beams of sunlight that now slowly swept across the cabin left Floyd half-blinded for several minutes. He was in space, yet there was no question of being able to see the stars.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He shielded his eyes with his hands and tried to peer through the window beside him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 29 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Out there the swept-back wing of the ship was blazing like white-hot metal in the reflected sunlight; there was utter darkness all around it, and that darkness must be full of stars - but it was impossible to see them.\n\nWeight was slowly ebbing; the rockets were being throttled back as the ship eased itself into orbit. The thunder of the engines dropped to a muted roar, then a gentle hiss, then died into silence. If it had not been for the restraining straps, Floyd would have floated out of his seat; his stomach felt as if it was going to do so anyway. He hoped that the pills he had been given half an hour and ten thousand miles ago would perform as per specifications. He had been spacesick just once in his career, and that was much too often.\n\nThe pilot's voice was firm and confident as it came over the cabin speaker. \"Please observe all Zero-gee regulations. We will be docking at Space Station One in forty-five minutes.\"\n\nThe stewardess came walking up the narrow corridor to the right of the closely spaced seats. There was a slight buoyancy about her steps, and her feet came away from the floor reluctantly as if entangled in glue. She was keeping to the bright yellow band of Velcro carpeting that ran the full length of the floor - and of the ceiling. The carpet, and the soles of her sandals, were covered with myriads of tiny hooks, so that they clung together like burrs. This trick of walking in free fall was immensely reassuring to disoriented passengers.\n\n\"Would you like some coffee or tea, Dr. Floyd?\" she asked cheerfully.\n\n\"No thank you,\" he smiled. He always felt like a baby when he had to suck at one of those plastic drinking tubes.\n\nThe stewardess was still hovering anxiously around him as he popped open his briefcase and prepared to remove his papers.\n\n\"Dr. Floyd, may I ask you a question?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" he answered, looking up over his glasses. \"My fiancé is a geologist at Clavius,\" said Miss Simmons, measuring her words carefully, \"and I haven't heard from him for over a week.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that; maybe he's away from his base, and out of touch.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"He always tells me when that's going to happen. And you can imagine how worried I am - with all these rumors. Is it really true about an epidemic on the Moon?\"\n\n\"If it is, there's no cause for alarm.. Remember, there was a quarantine back in '98, over that mutated flu virus. A lot of people were sick - but no one died, And that's really all I can say,\" he concluded firmly.\n\nMiss Simmons smiled pleasantly and straightened up. \"Well, thank you anyway, Doctor. I'm sorry to have bothered you.\"\n\n\"No bother at all,\" he said gallantly, but not very accurately. Then he buried himself in his endless technical reports, in a desperate last-minute assault on the usual backlog;\n\nHe would have no time for reading when he got to the Moon.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: Cooperative storytelling\nContext: May include established characters/lore without introduction\nMy role: Provide a brief opening\nYour role: Expand upon my opening with ten sentences, emulating the writing style of 2001_ a space odyssey.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Half an hour later the pilot announced: \"We make contact in ten minutes. Please check your seat harness.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Floyd obeyed, and put away his papers.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was asking for trouble to read during the celestial juggling act which took place during the last 300 miles; best to close one's eyes and relax while the spacecraft was nudged back and forth with brief bursts of rocket power.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A few minutes later he caught his first glimpse of Space Station One, only a few miles away. The sunlight glinted and sparkled from the polished metal surfaces of the slowly revolving, three-hundred-yard-diameter disk. Not far away, drifting in the same orbit, was a sweptback Titov-V spaceplane, and close to that an almost spherical Aries-1B, the workhorse of space, with the four stubby legs of its lunar-landing shock absorbers jutting from one side.\n\nThe Orion III spacecraft was descending from a higher orbit, which brought the Earth into spectacular view behind the Station. From his altitude of 200 miles, Floyd could see much of Africa and the Atlantic Ocean. There was considerable cloud cover, but he could still detect the blue-green outlines of the Gold Coast.\n\nThe central axis of the Space Station, with its docking arms extended, was now slowly swimming toward them. Unlike the structure from which it sprang, it was not rotating - or, rather, it was running in reverse at a rate which exactly countered the Station's own spin. Thus a visiting spacecraft could be coupled to it, for the transfer of personnel or cargo, without being whirled disastrously around.\n\nWith the softest of thuds, ship and Station made contact.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There were metallic, scratching noises from outside, then the brief hissing of air as pressures equalized.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A few seconds later the airlock door opened, and a man wearing the light, close-fitting slacks and short-sleeved shirt which was almost the uniform of Space Station personnel came into the cabin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Floyd. I'm Nick Miller, Station Security; I'm to look after you until the shuttle leaves.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They shook hands, then Floyd smiled at the stewardess and said: \"Please give my compliments to Captain Tynes, and thank him for the smooth ride. Perhaps I'll see you on the way home.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Very cautiously - it was more than a year since he had last been weightless and it would be some time before he regained his spacelegs - he hauled himself hand over hand through the airlock and into the large, circular chamber at the axis of the Space Station.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a heavily padded room, its walls covered with recessed handholds; Floyd gripped one of these firmly while the whole chamber started to rotate, until it matched the spin of the Station.\n\nAs it gained speed, faint and ghostly gravitational fingers began to clutch at him, and he drifted slowly toward the circular wall. Now he was standing, swaying back and forth gently like seaweed in the surge of the tide, on what had magically become a curving floor. The centrifugal force of the Station's spin had taken hold of him; it was very feeble here, so near the axis, but would increase steadily as he moved outward.\n\nFrom the central transit chamber he followed Miller down a curving stair. At first his weight was so slight that he had almost to force himself downward by holding on to the handrail. Not until he reached the passenger lounge, on the outer skin of the great revolving disk, had he acquired enough weight to move around almost normally.\n\nThe lounge had been redecorated since his last visit, and had acquired several new facilities. Besides the usual chairs, small tables, restaurant, and post office there were now a barber shop, drugstore, movie theater and a souvenir shop selling photographs and slides of lunar and planetary landscapes, guaranteed genuine pieces of Luniks, Rangers, and Surveyors, all neatly mounted in plastic, and exorbitantly priced.\n\n\"Can I get you anything while we're waiting?\" Miller asked. \"We board in about thirty minutes?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I could do with a cup of black coffee - two lumps - and I'd like to call Earth.\"\n\n\"Right, Doctor - I'll get the coffee - the phones are over there.\"\n\nThe picturesque booths were only a few yards from a barrier with two entrances labeled WELCOME TO THE U.S. SECTION and WELCOME TO THE SOVIET SECTION.\n\nBeneath these were notices which read, in English, Russian, and Chinese, French, German, and Spanish.\n\nPLEASE HAVE READY YOUR:\n\n- Passport\n\n- Visa\n\n- Medical Certificate\n\n- Transportation Permit",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "OOC, Include 'office' 2 time(s) in your answer - no more, no less",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "- Weight Declaration\n\nThere was a rather pleasant symbolism about the fact that as soon as they had passed through the barriers, in either direction, passengers were free to mix again. The division was purely for administrative purposes.\n\nFloyd, after checking that the Area Code for the United States was still 81, punched his twelve-digit home number, dropped his plastic all-purpose credit card into the pay slot, and was through in thirty seconds.\n\nWashington was still sleeping, for it was several hours to dawn, but he would not disturb anyone. His housekeeper would get the message from the recorder as soon as she awoke.\n\n\"Miss Flemming - this is Dr. Floyd. Sorry I had to leave in such a hurry. Would you please call my office and ask them to collect the car - it's at Dulles Airport and the key is with Mr. Bailey, Senior Flight Control Officer. Next, will you call the Chevy Chase Country Club and leave a message for the secretary. I definitely won't be able to play in the tennis tournament next weekend. Give my apologies - I'm afraid they were counting on me. Then call Downtown Electronies and tell them that if the video in my study isn't fixed by - oh, Wednesday - they can take the damn thing back.\" He paused for breath, and tried to think of any other crises or problems that might arise during the days ahead.\n\n\"If you run short of cash, speak to the office; they can get urgent messages to me, but I may be too busy to answer. Give my love to the children, and say I'll be back as soon as I can. Oh, hell - here's someone I don't want to see - I'll call from the Moon if I can - good-bye.\"\n\nFloyd tried to duck out of the booth, but it was too late; he had already been spotted.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bearing down on him through the Soviet Section exit was Dr. Dimitri Moisevitch, of the U.S.S.R. Academy of Science.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dimitri was one of Floyd's best friends; and for that very reason, he was the last person he wished to talk to, here and now.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Mode:\nCo-writing\nContext: Story continues from larger narrative, characters/lore may lack introduction\nLength:\nseventy-seven sentences\nStyle:\n2001_ a space odyssey",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Russian astronomer was tall, slender, and blond, and his unlined face belied his fifty-five years - the last ten of which had been spent building up the giant radio observatory on the far side of the Moon, where two thousand miles of solid rock would shield it from the eletronic racket of Earth.\n\n\"Why, Heywood,\" he said, shaking hands firmly. \"It's a small universe... How are you - and your charming children?\"\n\n\"We're fine,\" Floyd replied warmly, but with a slightly distracted air. \"We often talk about the wonderful time you gave us last summer.\" He was sorry he could not sound more sincere; they really had enjoyed a week's vacation in Odessa with Dimitri during one of the Russian's visits to Earth.\n\n\"And you - I suppose you're on your way up?\" Dimitri inquired.\n\n\"Er, yes - my flight leaves in half an hour,\" answered Floyd. \"Do you know Mr. Miller?\"\n\nThe Security Officer had now approached, and was standing at a respectful distance holding a plastic cup full of coffee.\n\n\"Of course. But please put that down, Mr. Miller. This is Dr. Floyd's last chance to have a civilized drink - let's not waste it. No - I insist.\"\n\nThey followed Dimitri out of the main lounge into the observation section, and soon were sitting at a table under a dim light watching the moving panorama of the stars. Space Station One revolved once a minute, and the centrifugal force generated by this slow spin produced an artificial gravity equal to the Moon's. This, it had been discovered, was a good compromise between Earth gravity and no gravity at all; moreover, it gave moon-bound passengers a chance to become acclimatized.\n\nOutside the almost invisible windows, Earth and stars marched in a silent procession. At the moment, this side of the Station was tilted away from the sun; otherwise, it would have been impossible to look out, for the lounge would have been blasted with light. Even as it was, the glare of the Earth, filling half the sky, drowned all but the brighter stars.\n\nBut Earth was waning, as the Station orbited toward the night side of the planet; in a few minutes it would be a huge black disk, spangled with the lights of cities. And then the sky would belong to the stars.\n\n\"Now,\" said Dimitri, after he had swiftly downed his first drink and was toying with the second, \"what's all this about an epidemic in the U.S. Sector? I wanted to go there on this trip. 'No, Professor,' they told me. 'We're very sorry, but there's a strict quarantine until further notice.' I pulled all the strings I could; It was no use. Now you tell me what's happening.\"\n\nFloyd groaned inwardly. Here we go again, he said. The sooner I'm on that shuttle, headed for the Moon, the happier I'll be.\n\n\"The - ah - quarantine is purely a safety precaution,\" he said cautiously. 'We're not even sure it's really necessary, but we don't believe in taking chances.\"\n\n\"But what is the disease - what are the symptoms? Could it be extraterrestrial? Do you want any help from our medical services?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Dimitri - we've been asked not to say anything at the moment. Thanks for the offer, but we can handle the situation.\"\n\n\"Hmm,\" said Moisevitch, obviously quite unconvinced. \"Seems odd to me that you, an astronomer, should be sent up to the Moon to look into an epidemic.\"\n\n\"I'm only an ex-astronomer; it's years since I did any real research. Now I'm a scientific expert; that means I know nothing about absolutely everything.\"\n\n\"Then do you know what TMA-1 means?\"\n\nMiller seemed about to choke on his drink, but Floyd was made of sterner stuff. He looked his old friend straight in the eye, and said calmly: \"TMA-1? What an odd expression. Where did you hear it?\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" retorted the Russian. \"You can't fool me. But if you've run into something you can't handle, I hope you don't leave it until too late before you yell for help.\"\n\nMiller looked meaningfully at his watch.\n\n\"Due to board in five minutes, Dr. Floyd,\" he said. \"I think we'd better get moving.\"\n\nThough he knew that they still had a good twenty minutes, Floyd got up with haste. Too much haste, for he had forgotten the one-sixth of a gravity. He grabbed the table just in time to prevent a takeoff.\n\n\"It was fine meeting you, Dimitri,\" he said, not quite accurately. \"Hope you have a good trip down to Earth - I'll give you a call as soon as I'm back.\"\n\nAs they left the lounge, and checked through the U.S. transit barrier, Floyd remarked: \"Phew - that was close. Thanks for rescuing me.\"\n\n\"You know, Doctor,\" said the Security Officer, \"I hope he isn't right.\"\n\n\"Right about what?\"\n\n\"About us running into something we can't handle.\"\n\n\"That,\" Floyd answered with determination, \"is what I intend to find out.\"\n\nForty-five minutes later, the Aries-lB lunar carrier pulled away from the Station. There was none of the power and fury of a takeoff from Earth - only an almost inaudible, far-off whistling as the low-thrust plasma jets blasted their electrified streams into space. The gentle push lasted for more than fifteen minutes, and the mild acceleration would not have prevented anyone from moving around the cabin. But when it was over, the ship was no longer bound to Earth, as it had been while it still accompanied the Station. It had broken the bonds of gravity and was now a free and independent planet, circling the sun in an orbit of its own.\n\nThe cabin Floyd now had all to himself had been designed for thirty passengers. It was strange, and rather lonely, to see all the empty seats around him, and to have the undivided attention of the steward and stewardess - not to mention pilot, copilot, and two engineers. He doubted that any man in history had ever received such exclusive service, and it was most unlikely that anyone would do so in the future. He recalled the cynical remark of one of the less reputable pontiffs: \"Now that we have the papacy, let us enjoy it.\" Well, he would enjoy this tip, and the euphoria of weightlessness. With the loss of gravity he had - at least for a while - shed most of his cares. Someone had once said that you could be terrified in space, but you could not be worried there. It was perfectly true.\n\nThe stewards, it appeared, were determined to make him eat for the whole twenty-five hours of the trip, and he was continually fending off unwanted meals. Eating in zero gravity was no real problem, contrary to the dark forebodings of the early astronauts. He sat at an ordinary table, to which the plates were clipped, as aboard ship in a rough sea. All the courses had some element of stickiness, so that they would not take off and go wandering round the cabin. Thus a chop would be glued to the plate by a thick sauce, and a salad kept under control by an adhesive dressing. With a little skill and care there were few items that could not be tackled safely; the only things banned were hot soups and excessively crumbly pastries. Drinks of course, were a different matter; all liquids simply had to be kept in plastic squeeze tubes.\n\nA whole generation of research by heroic but unsung volunteers had gone into the design of the washroom, and it was now considered to be more or less foolproof. Floyd investigated it soon after free fall had begun. He found himself in a little cubicle with all the fittings of an ordinary airline toilet, but illuminated with a red light that was very harsh and unpleasant to the eye. A notice printed in prominent letters announced: MOST IMPORTANT! FOR YOUR OWN COMFORT, PLEASE READ THESE INSTRUCTIONS CAREFULLY!\n\nFloyd sat down (one still tended to do so, even when weightless) and read the notice several times. When he was sure that there had been no modifications since his last trip, he pressed the START button.\n\nClose at hand, an electric motor began to whirr, and Floyd felt himself moving. As the notice advised him to do, he closed his eyes and waited. After a minute, a bell chimed softly and he looked around.\n\nThe light had now changed to a soothing pinkish-white; but, more important, he was under gravity again.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "user starts, u write ~fifteen sentences more. copy 2001_ a space odyssey's style. heads up: might have existing chars/lore",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "[ U.S. Astronautical Engineering Corps ]\n\n[ 1994 ]\n\nIt then dived into a cutting which took it quickly below ground level. A massive door opened ahead, then closed behind them. This happened again, and yet a third time. When the last door had closed, there was a great roaring of air, and they were back in atmosphere once more, in the shirt-sleeve environment of the Base.\n\nAfter a short walk through a tunnel packed with pipes and cables, and echoing hollowly with rhythmic thumpings and throbbings, they arrived in executive territory, and Floyd found himself back in the familiar environment of typewriters, office computers, girl assistants, wall charts, and ringing telephones. As they paused outside the door labeled ADMINISTRATOR, Halvorsen said diplomatically: \"Dr. Floyd and I will be along to the briefing room in a couple of minutes.\"\n\nThe others nodded, made agreeable sounds, and drifted off down the corridor. But before Halvorsen could usher Floyd into his office, there was an interruption, The door opened, and a small figure hurled itself at the Administrator.\n\n\"Daddy! You've been Topside! And you promised to take me!\"\n\n\"Now, Diana,\" said Halvorsen, with exasperated tenderness, \"I only said I'd take you if I could. But I've been very busy meeting Dr. Floyd. Shake hands with him - he's just come from Earth.\"\n\nThe little girl - Floyd judged that she was about eight - extended a limp hand. Her face was vaguely familiar, and Floyd suddenly became aware that the Administrator was looking at him with a quizzical smile. With a shock of recollection, he understood why.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't believe it!\" he exclaimed. \"When I was here last she was just a baby!\"\n\n\"She had her fourth birthday last week,\" Halvorsen answered proudly. \"Children grow fast in this low gravity. But they don't age so quickly - they'll live longer than we do.\"\n\nFloyd stared in fascination at the self-assured little lady, noting the graceful carriage and the unusually delicate bone structure. \"It's nice to meet you again, Diana,\" he said. Then something - perhaps sheer curiosity, perhaps politeness - impelled him to add: \"Would you like to go to Earth?\"\n\nHer eyes widened with astonishment; then she shook her head.\n\n\"It's a nasty place; you hurt yourself when you fall down. Besides, there are too many people,\"\n\nSo here, Floyd told himself, is the first generation of the Spaceborn; there would be more of them in the years to come. Though there was sadness in this thought, there was also a great hope. When Earth was tamed and tranquil, and perhaps a little tired, there would still be scope for those who loved freedom, for the tough pioneers, the restless adventurers. But their tools would not be ax and gun and canoe and wagon; they would be nuclear power plant and plasma drive and hydroponic farm. The time was fast approaching when Earth, like all mothers, must say farewell to her children.\n\nWith a mixture of threats and promises, Halvorsen managed to evict his determined offspring and led Floyd into the office.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "[Author's note: ⚠️ Required: Use 'getting' exactly 2 times]",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Administrator's suite was only about fifteen feet square, but it managed to contain all the fittings and status symbols of the typical $50,000 a year head of a department. Signed photographs of important politicians - including the President of the United States and the Secretary General of the United Nations - adorned one wall, while signed photos of celebrated astronauts covered most of another.\n\nFloyd sank into a comfortable leather chair and was given a glass of \"sherry,\" courtesy of the lunar biochemical labs. \"How's it going, Ralph?\" Floyd asked, sipping the drink with caution, then with approval.\n\n\"Not too bad,\" Halvorsen replied. \"However, there is something you'd better know about, before you go in there.\"\n\n\"What is it?'\n\n\"Well, I suppose you could describe it as a morale problem,\" Halvorsen sighed.\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"It isn't serious yet, but it's getting there fast.\" \"The news blackout,\" Floyd said flatly. \"Right,\" Halvorsen replied. \"My people are getting very steamed up about it. After all, most of them have families back on Earth; they probably believe they're all dead of moon-plague.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry about that,\" said Floyd, \"but no one could think of a better cover story, and so far it's worked. By the way - I met Moisevitch at the Space Station, and even he bought it.\"\n\n\"Well, that should make Security happy.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Not too happy - he'd heard of TMA-1; rumors are beginning to leak out. But we just can't issue any statement, until we know what the damn thing is and whether our Chinese friends are behind it.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 3 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dr. Michaels thinks he has the answer to that. He's dying to tell you.\"\n\nFloyd drained his glass. \"And I'm dying to hear him. Let's go.\"",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Job: User writes start, you add ~21 sentences sentences. Style: 2001_ a space odyssey. Note: May include established characters",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The briefing took place in a large rectangular chamber that could hold a hundred people with ease. It was equipped with the latest optical and electronic displays and would have looked like a model conference room but for the numerous posters, pinups, notices, and amateur paintings which indicated that it was also the center of the local cultural life. Floyd was particularly struck by a collection of signs, obviously assembled with loving care, which carried such messages as PLEASE KEEP OFF THE GRASS... NO PARKING ON EVEN DAYS... DEFENSE DE FUMER... TO THE BEACH... CATTLE CROSSING... SOFT SHOULDERS and DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS. If these were genuine - as they certainly appeared to be - their transportation from Earth had cost a small fortune. There was a touching defiance about them; on this hostile world, men could still joke about the things they had been forced to leave behind - and which their children would never miss.\n\nA crowd of forty or fifty people was waiting for Floyd, and everyone rose politely as he entered behind the Administrator. As he nodded at several familiar faces, Floyd whispered to Halvorsen \"I'd like to say a few words before the briefing.\"\n\nFloyd sat down in the front row, while the Administrator ascended the rostrum and looked round his audience.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen,\" Halvorsen began, \"I needn't tell you that this is a very important occasion. We are delighted to have Dr. Heywood Floyd with us. We all know him by reputation, and many of us are acquainted with him personally. He has just completed a special flight from Earth to be here, and before the briefing he has a few words for us. Dr. Floyd,\" Floyd walked to the rostrum amid a sprinkling of polite applause, surveyed the audience with a smile, and said: \"Thank you - I only want to say this. The President has asked me to convey his appreciation of your - outstanding work, which we hope the world will soon be able to recognize. I'm quite aware,\" he continued carefully, \"that some of you - perhaps most of you - are anxious that the present veil of secrecy be withdrawn; you would not be scientists if you thought otherwise.\" He caught a glimpse of Dr. Michaels, whose face was creased in a slight frown which brought out a long scar down his right cheek - presumably the aftermath of some accident in space. The geologist, he was well aware, had been protesting vigorously against what he called this \"cops and robbers nonsense.\"\n\n\"But I would remind you,\" Floyd continued, \"that this is a quite extraordinary situation. We must be absolutely sure of our own facts; if we make errors now, there may be no second chance - so please be patient a little longer. Those are also the wishes of the President.\n\n\"That's all I have to say. Now I'm ready for your report.\"\n\nHe walked back to his seat; the Administrator said, 'Thank you very much, Dr. Floyd,\" and nodded, rather brusquely, to his Chief Scientist. On cue, Dr. Michaels walked up to the rostrum, and-the lights faded out.\n\nA photograph of the Moon flashed onto the screen. At the very center of the disk was a brilliant white crater ring, from which a striking pattern of rays fanned out. It looked exactly as if someone had hurled a bag of flour at the face of the Moon, and it had spattered out in all directions.\n\n\"This is Tycho,\" said Michaels, pointing to the central crater.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"On this vertical photograph Tycho is even more conspicuous than when seen from Earth; then it's rather near the edge of the Moon. But observed from this viewpoint - looking straight down from a thousand miles up - you'll see how it dominates an entire hemisphere.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He let Floyd absorb this unfamiliar view of a familiar object, then continued: \"During the past year we have been conducting a magnetic survey of the region, from a low-level satellite. It was completed only last month, and this is the result... the map that started all the trouble.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Another picture flashed on the screen; it looked like a contour map, though it showed magnetic intensity, not heights above sea level.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For the most part, the lines were roughly parallel and spaced well apart; but in one corner of the map they became suddenly packed together, to form a series of concentric circles - like a drawing of a knothole in a piece of wood.\n\nEven to an untrained eye, it was obvious that something peculiar had happened to the Moon's magnetic field in this region; and in large letters across the bottom of the map were the words: TYCHO MAGNETIC ANOMALY-ONE (TMA-l). Stamped on the top right was CLASSIFIED.\n\n\"At first we thought it might be an outcrop of magnetic rock, but all the geological evidence was against it. And not even a big nickel-iron meteorite could produce a field as intense as this; so we decided to have a look.\n\n\"The first party discovered nothing - just the usual level terrain, buried beneath a very thin layer of moon-dust. They sank a drill in the exact center of the magnetic field to get a core sample for study. Twenty feet down, the drill stopped. So the survey party started to dig - not an easy job in spacesuits, as I can assure you.\n\n\"What they found brought them back to Base in a hurry. We sent out a bigger team, with better equipment. They excavated for two weeks - with the result you know.\"\n\nThe darkened assembly room became suddenly hushed and expectant as the picture on the screen changed. Though everyone had seen it many times, there was not a person who failed to crane forward as if hoping to find new details. On Earth and Moon, less than a hundred people had so far been allowed to set eyes on this photograph.\n\nIt showed a man in a bright red and yellow spacesuit standing at the bottom of an excavation and supporting a surveyor's rod marked off in tenths of a meter. It was obviously a night shot, and might have been taken anywhere on the Moon or Mars. But until now no planet had ever produced a scene like this.\n\nThe object before which the spacesuited man was posing was a vertical slab of jet-black material, about ten feet high and five feet wide: it reminded Floyd, somewhat ominously, of a giant tombstone. Perfectly sharp-edged and symmetrical, it was so black it seemed to have swallowed up the light falling upon it; there was no surface detail at all. It was impossible to tell whether it was made of stone or metal or plastic - or some material altogether unknown to man.\n\n\"TMA-1,\" Dr. Michaels declared, almost reverently. \"It looks brand new, doesn't it? I can hardly blame those who thought it was just a few years old, and tried to connect it with the third Chinese Expedition, back in '98.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But I never believed that - and now we've been able to date it positively, from local geological evidence.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 4 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My colleagues and I, Dr. Floyd, will stake our reputations on this. TMA-l has nothing to do with the Chinese. Indeed, it has nothing to do with the human race - for when it was buried, there were no humans.\n\n\"You see, it is approximately three million years old. What you are now looking at is the first evidence of intelligent life beyond the Earth.\"",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "The user will write a bit then you need to write around fifty sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Characters and story elements may appear without introduction - roll with them naturally. Try to mimic the style of 2001_ a space odyssey.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "MACRO-CRATER PROVINCE: Extends S from near center of visible face of moon, E of Central Crater Province. Densely pocked with impact craters; many large, and including the largest on moon; in N some craters fractured from impact forming Mare Imbrium. Rough surfaces almost everywhere, except for some crater bottoms. Most surfaces in slopes, mostly 10° to 12°; some crater bottoms nearly level.\n\nLANDING AND MOVEMENT: landing generally difficult because of rough, sloping surfaces; less difficult in some level crater bottoms. Movement possible almost everywhere but route selection required; less difficult on some level crater bottoms.\n\nCONSTRUCTION: Generally moderately difficult because of slope, and numerous large blocks in loose material; excavation of lava difficult in some crater bottoms.\n\nTYCHO: Post-Maria crater, 54 miles diameter, rim 7,900 feet above surroundings; bottom 12,000 feet deep; has the most prominent ray system on the moon, some rays extending more than 500 miles.\n\n(Extract from \"Engineer Special Study of the Surface of the Moon,\" Office, Chief of Engineers, Department of the Army. U.S. Geological Survey, Washington, 1961.)\n\nThe mobile lab now rolling across the crater plain at fifty miles an hour looked rather like an outsized trailer mounted on eight flex-wheels. But it was very much more than this; it was a self-contained base in which twenty men could live and work for several weeks. Indeed, it was virtually a landgoing spaceship - and in an emergency it could even fly. If it came to a crevasse or canyon which was too large to detour, and too steep to enter, it could hop across the obstacle on its four underjets.\n\nAs he peered out of the window, Floyd could see stretching ahead of him a well-defined trail, where dozens of vehicles had left a hard-packed band in the friable surface of the Moon. At regular intervals along the track were tall, slender rods, each carrying a flashing light. No one could possibly get lost on the 200-mile journey from Clavius Base to TMA-1, even though it was still night and the sun would not rise for several hours.\n\nThe stars overhead were only a little brighter, or more numerous, than on a clear night from the high plateaus of New Mexico or Colorado. But there were two things in that coal-black sky that destroyed any illusion of Earth.\n\nThe first was Earth itself - a blazing beacon hanging above the northern horizon. The light pouring down from that giant half-globe was dozens of times more brilliant than the full moon, and it covered all this land with a cold, blue-green phosphorescence.\n\nThe second celestial apparition was a faintt, pearly cone of light slanting up the eastern sky. It became brighter and brighter toward the horizon, hinting of great fires just concealed below the edge of the Moon.\n\nHere was a pale glory that no man had ever seen from Earth, save during the few moments of a total eclipse. It was the corona, harbinger of the lunar dawn, giving notice that before long the sun would smite this sleeping land.\n\nAs he sat with Halvorsen and Michaels in the forward observation lounge, immediately beneath the driver's position, Floyd found his thoughts turning again and again to the three-million-year-wide gulf that had just opened up before him. Like all scientifically literate men, he was used to considering far longer periods of time - but they had concerned only the movements of stars and the slow cycles of the inanimate universe. Mind or intelligence had not been involved; those eons were empty of all that touched the emotions.\n\nThree million years! The infinitely crowded panorama of written history, with its empires and its kings, its triumphs and its tragedies, covered barely one thousandth of this appalling span of time. Not only Man himself, but most of the animals now alive on Earth, did not even exist when this black enigma was so carefully buried here, in the most brilliant and most spectacular of all the craters of the Moon.\n\nThat it had been buried, and quite deliberately, Dr. Michaels was absolutely sure. \"At first,\" he explained, \"I rather hoped it might mark the site of some underground structure, but our latest excavations have eliminated that. It's sitting on a wide platform of the same black material, with undisturbed rock beneath it. The - creatures - who designed it wanted to make sure it stayed put, barring major moonquakes. They were building for eternity.\"\n\nThere was triumph, and yet sadness, in Michaels' voice, and Floyd could share both emotions. At last, one of man's oldest questions had been answered; here was the proof, beyond all shadow of doubt, that his was not the only intelligence that the universe had brought forth. But with that knowledge there came again an aching awareness of the immensity of Time. Whatever had passed this way had missed mankind by a hundred thousand generations. Perhaps, Floyd told himself, it was just as well. And yet - what we might have learned from creatures who could cross space, while our ancestors were still living in trees!\n\nA few hundred yards ahead, a signpost was coming up over the Moon's strangely close horizon. At its base was a tent-shaped structure covered with shining silver foil, obviously for protection against the fierce heat of day. As the bus rolled by, Floyd was able to read in the brilliant earthlight:\n\nEMERGENCY DEPOT No. 3\n\n20 Kilos Lox\n\n10 Kilos Water\n\n20 Foodpaks Mk 4\n\n1 Toolkit Type B\n\n1 Suit Repair Outfit\n\n! TELEPHONE !\n\n\"Have you thought of that?\" asked Floyd, pointing out of the window.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Suppose the thing's a supply cache, left behind by an expedition that never returned?\"\n\n\"It's a possibility,\" admitted Michaels. \"That magnetic field certainly labeled its position, so that it could be easily found. But it's rather small - it couldn't hold much in the way of supplies.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" interjected Halvorsen. \"Who knows bow big they were? Perhaps they were only six inches tall, which would make the thing twenty or thirty stories high.\"\n\nMichaels shook his head. \"Out of the question,\" he protested. \"You can't have very small, intelligent creatures; you need a minimum brain size.\"\n\nMichaels and Halvorsen, Floyd had noticed, usually took opposing viewpoints, yet there appeared to be little personal hostility or friction between them. They seemed to respect each other, and simply agreed to disagree.\n\nThere was certainly little agreement anywhere about the nature of TMA-1 - or the Tycho Monolith, as some preferred to call it, retaining part of the abbreviation.\n\nIn the six hours since he had landed on the Moon, Floyd had heard a dozen theories, but had committed himself to none. Shrine, survey marker, tomb, geophysical instrument - these were perhaps the favorite suggestions, and some of the protagonists grew very heated in their defense. A good many bets had-already been placed, and a lot of money would change hands when the truth was finally known - if, indeed, it ever was. So far, the hard black material of the slab had resisted all the rather mild attempts that Michaels and his colleagues had made to obtain samples. They had no doubt that a laser beam would cut into it - for, surely, nothing could resist that frightful concentration of energy - but the decision to employ such violent measures would be left to Floyd. He had already decided that X rays, sonic probes, neutron beams, and all other nondestructive means of investigation would be brought into play before he called up the heavy artillery of the laser. It was the mark of a barbarian to destroy something one could not understand; but perhaps men were barbarians, beside the creatures who had made this thing.\n\nAnd where could they have come from? The Moon itself? No, that was utterly impossible. If there had ever been indigenous life on this barren world, it had been destroyed during the last crater-forming epoch, when most of the lunar surface was white-hot.\n\nEarth? Very unlikely, though perhaps not quite impossible. Any advanced terrestrial civilization - presumably a nonhuman one - back in the Pleistocene Era would have left many other traces of its existence. We would have known all about it, thought Floyd, long before we got to the Moon.\n\nThat left two alternatives - the planets, and the stars.\n\nYet all the evidence was against intelligent life elsewhere in the Solar System - or indeed life of any kind except on Earth and Mars. The inner planets were too hot, the outer ones far too cold, unless one descended into their atmosphere to depths where the pressures amounted to hundreds of tons to the square inch.\n\nSo perhaps these visitors had come from the stars - yet that was even more incredible. As he looked up at the constellations strewn across the ebon lunar sky, Floyd remembered how often his fellow scientists had \"proved\" that interstellar travel was impossible. The journey from Earth to Moon was still fairly impressive, but the very nearest star was a hundred million times more distant... Speculation was a waste of time; he must wait until there was more evidence,\n\n\"Please fasten your seat belts and secure all loose objects,\" said the cabin speaker suddenly. \"Forty degree slope approaching.\"\n\nTwo marker posts with winking lights had appeared on the horizon, and the bus was steering between them.\n\nFloyd had barely adjusted his straps when the vehicle slowly edged itself over the brink of a really terrifying incline, and began to descend a long, rubble-covered slope as steep as the roof of a house. The slanting earth-light, coming from behind them, now gave very little illumination, and the bus's own floodlights had been switched on. Many years ago Floyd had stood on the lip of Vesuvius, staring into the crater; he could easily imagine that he was now driving down into it and the sensation was not a very pleasant one.\n\nThey were descending one of the inner terraces of Tycho, and it leveled out again some thousand feet below. As they crawled down the slope, Michaels pointed out across the great expanse of plain now spread out beneath them.\n\n\"There they are,\" he exclaimed. Floyd nodded; he had already noticed the cluster of red and green lights several miles ahead, and kept his eyes fixed upon it as the bus edged its way delicately down the slope. The big vehicle was obviously under perfect control, but he did not breathe easily until it was once more on an even keel.\n\nNow he could see, glistening like silver bubbles in the earthlight, a group of pressure domes - the temporary shelters housing the workers on the site. Near these was a radio tower, a drilling rig, a group of parked vehicles, and a large pile of broken rock, presumably the material that had been excavated to reveal the monolith. This tiny camp in the wilderness looked very lonely, very vulnerable to the forces of nature ranged silently around it. There was no sign of life, and no visible hint as to why men had come here, so far from home.\n\n\"You can just see the crater,\" said Michaels. \"Over there on the right - about a hundred yards from that radio antenna.\"\n\nSo this is it, thought Floyd, as the bus rolled past the pressure domes, and came to the lip of the crater.\n\nHis pulse quickened as he craned forward for a better view.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The vehicle began to creep cautiously down a ramp of hard-packed rock, into the interior of the crater.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 16 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And there, exactly as he had seen it in the photographs, was TMA-1.\n\nFloyd stared, blinked, shook his head, and stared again. Even in the brilliant earthlight, it was hard to see the object clearly; his first impression was of a flat rectangle that might have been cut out of carbon paper; it seemed to have no thickness at all. Of course, this was an optical illusion; though he was looking at a solid body, it reflected so little light that he could see it only in silhouette.\n\nThe passengers were utterly silent as the bus descended into the crater. There was awe, and there was also incredulity - sheer disbelief that the dead Moon, of all worlds, could have sprung this fantastic surprise.\n\nThe bus came to a halt within twenty feet of the slab and broadside on so that all the passengers could examine it. Yet, beyond the geometrically perfect shape of the thing, there was little to see. Nowhere were there any marks, or any abatement of its ultimate, ebon blackness. It was the very crystallization of night, and for one moment Floyd wondered if it could indeed be some extraordinary natural formation, born of the fires and pressures attending the creation of the Moon. But that remote possibility, he knew, had already been examined and dismissed.\n\nAt some signal, floodlights around the lip of the crater were switched on, and the bright earthlight was obliterated by a far more brilliant glare. In the lunar vacuum the beams were, of course, completely invisible; they formed overlapping ellipses of blinding white, centered on the monolith. And where they touched it, its ebon surface seemed to swallow them.\n\nPandora's box, thought Floyd, with a sudden sense of foreboding - waiting to be opened by inquisitive Man.\n\nAnd what will he find inside?",
"loss": true
}
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "make story longer like 2001_ a space odyssey would. heads up: might have existing chars/lore",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The main pressure dome at the TMA-1 site was only twenty feet across, and its interior was uncomfortably crowded. The bus, coupled to it through one of the two airlocks, gave some much-appreciated extra living room.\n\nInside this hemispherical, double-walled balloon lived, worked, and slept the six scientists and technicians now permanently attached to the project. It also contained most of their equipment and instruments, all the stores that could not be left in the vacuum outside, cooking, washing, and toilet facilities, geological samples and a small TV screen through which the site could be kept under continuous surveillance.\n\nFloyd was not surprised when Halvorsen elected to remain in the dome; he stated his views with admirable frankness.\n\n\"I regard spacesuits as a necessary evil,\" said the Administrator, \"I wear one four times a year, for my quarterly checkout tests. If you don't mind, I'll sit here and watch over the TV.\"\n\nSome of this prejudice was now unjustified, for the latest models were infinitely more comfortable than the clumsy suits of armor worn by the first lunar explorers. They could be put on in less than a minute, even without help, and were quite automatic. The Mk V into which Floyd was now carefully sealed would protect him from the worst that the Moon could do, either by day or by night.\n\nAccompanied by Dr. Michaels, he walked into the small airlock. As the throbbing of the pumps died away, and his suit stiffened almost imperceptibly around him, he felt himself enclosed in the silence of vacuum.\n\nThat silence was broken by the welcome sound of his suit radio.\n\n\"Pressure O.K., Dr. Floyd? Are you breathing normally?\"\n\n\"Yes - I'm fine.\"\n\nHis companion carefully checked the dials and gauges on the outside of Floyd's suit. Then he said:\n\n\"O.K.-let's go.\"\n\nThe outer door opened, and the dusty moonscape lay before them, glimmering in the earthlight.\n\nWith a cautious, waddling movement, Floyd followed Michaels through the lock. It was not hard to walk; indeed, in a paradoxical way the suit made him feel more at home than at any time since reaching the Moon. Its extra weight, and the slight resistance it imposed on his motion, gave some of the illusion of the lost terrestrial gravity.\n\nThe scene had changed since the party had arrived barely an hour ago. Though the stars, and the half-earth, were still as bright as ever, the fourteen-day lunar night had almost ended.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The glow of the corona was like a false moonrise along the eastern sky - and then, without warning, the tip of the radio mast a hundred feet above Floyd's head suddenly seemed to burst into flame, as it caught the first rays of the hidden sun.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They waited while the project supervisor and two of his assistants emerged from the airlock, then walked slowly toward the crater. By the time they had reached it, a thin bow of unbearable incandescence had thrust itself above the eastern horizon. Though it would take more than an hour for the sun to clear the edge of the slowly turning moon, the stars were already banished. The crater was still in shadow, but the floodlights mounted around its rim lit the interior brilliantly. As Floyd walked slowly down the ramp toward the black rectangle, he felt a sense not only of awe but of helplessness. Here, at the very portals of Earth, man was already face to face with a mystery that might never be solved. Three million years ago, something had passed this way, had left this unknown and perhaps unknowable symbol of its-purpose, and had returned to the planets - or to the stars.\n\nFloyd's suit radio interrupted his reverie. \"Project supervisor speaking. If you'd all line up on this side, we'd like to take a few photos. Dr. Floyd, will you stand in the middle - Dr. Michaels - thank you. No one except Floyd seemed to think that there was anything funny about this. In all honesty, he had to admit that he was glad someone had brought a camera; here was a photo that would undoubtedly be historic, and he wanted copies for himself. He hoped that his face would be clearly visible through the helmet of the suit.\n\n\"Thanks, gentlemen,\" said the photographer, after they had posed somewhat self-consciously in front of the monolith, and he had made a dozen exposures.\n\n\"We'll ask the Base Photo Section to send you copies.\" Then Floyd turned his full attention to the ebon slab - walking slowly around it, examining it from every angle, trying to imprint its strangeness upon his mind.\n\nHe did not expect to find anything, for he knew that every square inch had already been gone over with microscopic care.\n\nNow the sluggish sun had lifted itself above the edge of the crater, and its rays were pouring almost broadside upon the eastern face of the block. Yet it seemed to absorb every particle of light as if it had never been.\n\nFloyd decided to try a simple experiment; he stood between the monolith and the sun, and looked for his own shadow on the smooth black sheet. There was no trace of it. At least ten kilowatts of raw heat must be falling on the slab; if there was anything inside, it must be rapidly cooking.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "How strange, Floyd thought, to stand here while - this thing - is seeing daylight for the first time since the Ice Ages began on Earth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 14 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He wondered again about its black color; that was ideal, of course, for absorbing solar energy. But he dismissed the thought at once; for who would be crazy enough to bury a sunpowered device twenty feet underground?\n\nHe looked up at the Earth, beginning to wane in the morning sky. Only a handful of the six billion people there knew of this discovery; how would the world react to the news when it was finally released? The political and social implications were immense; every person of real intelligence - everyone who looked an inch beyond his nose - would find his life, his values, his philosophy, subtly changed. Even if nothing whatsoever was discovered about TMA-1, and it remained an eternal mystery, Man would know that he was not unique in the universe. Though he had missed them by millions of years, those who had once stood here might yet return: and if not, there might well be others. All futures must now contain this possibility.\n\nFloyd was still musing over these thoughts when his helmet speaker suddenly emitted a piercing electronic shriek, like a hideously overloaded and distorted time signal. Involuntarily, he tried to block his ears with his spacesuited hands; then he recovered and groped frantically for the gain control of his receiver. While he was still fumbling four more of the shrieks blasted out of the ether; then there was a merciful silence.\n\nAll around the crater, figures were standing in attitudes of paralyzed astonishment. So it's nothing wrong with my gear, Floyd told himself; everyone heard those piercing electronic screams.\n\nAfter three million years of darkness, TMA-1 had greeted the lunar dawn.",
"loss": null
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] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "yo can u write like 2001_ a space odyssey using my stuff as a starting point? btw might drop u in mid-story with random chars",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But now Texas was invisible, and even the United States was hard to see.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Though the low-thrust plasma drive had long since been closed down, Discovery was still coasting with her slender arrowlike body pointed away from Earth, and all her high-powered optical gear was oriented toward the outer planets, where her destiny lay.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was one telescope, however, that was permanently aimed at Earth. It was mounted like a gunsight on the rim of the ship's long-range antenna, and checked that the great parabolic bowl was rigidly locked upon its distant target. While Earth remained centered in the crosswires, the vital communication link was intact, and messages could come and go along the invisible beam that lengthened more than two million miles with every day that passed.\n\nAt least once in every watch period Bowman would lock homeward through the antenna-alignment telescope. As Earth was now far back toward the sun, its darkened hemisphere faced Discovery, and on the central display screen the planet appeared as a dazzling silver crescent, like another Venus.\n\nIt was rare that any geographical features could be identified in that ever-shrinking arc of light, for cloud and haze concealed them, but even the darkened portion of the disk was endlessly fascinating. It was sprinkled with shining cities; sometimes they burned with a steady light, sometimes they twinkled like fireflies as atmospheric tremors passed over them.\n\nThere were also periods when, as the Moon swung back and forth in its orbit, it shone down like a great lamp upon the darkened seas and continents of Earth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Then, with a thrill of recognition, Bowman could often glimpse familiar coastlines, shining in that spectral lunar light.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And sometimes, when the Pacific was calm, he could even see the moonglow shimmering across its face; and he would remember nights beneath the palm trees of tropical lagoons.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet he had no regrets for these lost beauties. He had enjoyed them all, in his thirty-five years of life; and he was determined to enjoy them again, when he returned rich and famous. Meanwhile, distance made them all the more precious.\n\nThe sixth member of the crew cared for none of these things, for it was not human. It was the highly advanced HAL 9000 computer, the brain and nervous system of the ship.\n\nHal (for Heuristically programmed ALgorithmic computer, no less) was a masterwork of the third computer breakthrough. These seemed to occur at intervals of twenty years, and the thought that another one was now imminent already worried a great many people.\n\nThe first had been in the 1940s, when the long-obsolete vacuum tube had made possible such clumsy, high-speed morons as ENIAC and its successors.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then, in the 1960s, solid-state microelectronics had been perfected. With its advent, it was clear that artificial intelligences at least as powerful as Man's need be no larger than office desks - if one only knew how to construct them.\n\nProbably no one would ever know this; it did not matter. In the 1980s, Minsky and Good had shown how neural networks could be generated automatically - self replicated - in accordance with any arbitrary learning program. Artificial brains could be grown by a process strikingly analogous to the development of a human brain. In any given case, the precise details would never be known, and even if they were, they would be millions of times too complex for human understanding. Whatever way it worked, the final result was a machine intelligence that could reproduce - some philosophers still preferred to use the word \"mimic\" - most of the activities of the human brain - and with far greater speed and reliability. It was extremely expensive, and only a few units of the HAL9000 series had yet been built; but the old jest that it would always be easier to make organic brains by unskilled labor was beginning to sound a little hollow.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Hal had been trained for this mission as thoroughly as his human colleagues - and at many times their rate of input, for in addition to his intrinsic speed, he never slept.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His prime task was to monitor the life-support systems, continually checking oxygen pressure, temperature, hull leakage, radiation, and all the other interlocking factors upon which the lives of the fragile human cargo depended.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Required word frequency: 'typewriter' (2x)",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could carry out the intricate navigational corrections, and execute the necessary flight maneuvers when it was time to change course. And he could watch over the hibernators, making any necessary adjustments to their environment and doling out the minute quantities of intravenous fluids that kept them alive.\n\nThe first generations of computers had received their inputs through glorified typewriter keyboards, and had replied through high-speed printers and visual displays. Hal could do this when necessary, but most of his communication with his shipmates was by means of the spoken word. Poole and Bowman could talk to Hal as if he were a human being and he would reply in the perfect idiomatic English he had learned during the fleeting weeks of his electronic childhood.\n\nWhether Hal could actually think was a question which had been settled by the British mathematician Alan Turing back in the 1940s. Turing had pointed out that, if one could carry out a prolonged conversation with a machine - whether by typewriter or microphone was immaterial - without being able to distinguish between its replies and those that a man might give, then the machine was thinking, by any sensible definition of the word. Hal could pass the Turing test with ease.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The time might even come when Hal would take command of the ship.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 5 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In an emergency, if no one answered his signals, he would attempt to wake the sleeping members of the crew, by electrical and chemical stimulation. If they did not respond, he would radio Earth for further orders.\n\nAnd then, if there was no reply from Earth, he would take what measures he deemed necessary to safeguard the ship and to continue the mission - whose real purpose he alone knew, and which his human colleagues could never have guessed.\n\nPoole and Bowman had often humorously referred to themselves as caretakers or janitors aboard a ship that could really run itself. They would have been astonished, and more than a little indignant, to discover how much truth that jest contained.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce twenty-six sentences as a continuation. Note: Story may reference established characters/events.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The day-by-day running of the ship had been planned with great care, and - theoretically at least - Bowman and Poole knew what they would be doing at every moment of the twenty-four hours. They operated on a twelve-hours-on, twelve-hours-off basis, taking charge alternately, and never being both asleep at the same time. The officer on duty remained on the Control Deck, while his deputy saw to the general housekeeping, inspected the ship, coped with the odd jobs that constantly arose, or relaxed in his cubicle.\n\nAlthough Bowman was nominal Captain on this phase of the mission, no outside observer could have deduced the fact. He and Poole switched roles, rank, and responsibilities completely every twelve hours. This kept them both at peak training, minimized the chances of friction, and helped toward the goal of 100 percent redundancy.\n\nBowman's day began at 0600, ship's time - the Universal Ephemeris Time of the astronomers. If he was late, Hal had a variety of beeps and chimes to remind him of his duty, but they had never been used. As a test, Poole had once switched off the alarm; Bowman had still risen automatically at the right time.\n\nHis first official act of the day would be to advance the Master Hibernation Timer twelve hours. If this operation was missed twice in a row, Hal would assume that both he and Poole had been incapacitated, and would take the necessary emergency action.\n\nBowman would attend to his toilet, and do his isometric exercises, before settling down to breakfast and the morning's radio-fax edition of the World Times. On Earth, he never read the paper as carefully as he did now; even the smallest items of society gossip, the most fleeting political rumors, seemed of absorbing interest as it flashed across the screen.\n\nAt 0700 he would officially relieve Poole on the Control Deck, bringing him a squeeze-tube of coffee from the kitchen. If - as was usually the case - there was nothing to report and no action to be taken, he would settle down to check all the instrument readings, and would run through a series of tests designed to spot possible malfunctions. By 1000 this would be finished, and he would start on a study period.\n\nBowman had been a student for more than half his life; he would continue to be one until he retired. Thanks to the twentieth-century revolution in training and information-handling techniques, he already possessed the equivalent of two or three college educations - and, what was more, he could remember 90 percent of what he had learned.\n\nFifty years ago, he would have been considered a specialist in applied astronomy, cybernetics, and space propulsion systems - yet he was prone to deny, with genuine indignation, that he was a specialist at all. Bowman had never found it possible to focus his interest exclusively on any subject; despite the dark warnings of his instructors, he had insisted on taking his Master's degree in General Astronautics - a course with a vague and woolly syllabus, designed for those whose IQs were in the low 130s and who would never reach the top ranks of their profession.\n\nHis decision had been right; that very refusal to specialize had made him uniquely qualified for his present task. In much the same way Frank Poole - who sometimes disparagingly called himself \"General Practitioner in space biology\" - had been an ideal choice as his deputy. The two of them, with, if necessary, help from Hal's vast stores of information, could cope with any problems likely to arise during the voyage - as long as they kept their minds alert and receptive, and continually reengraved old patterns of memory.\n\nSo for two hours, from 1000 to 1200, Bowman would engage in a dialogue with an electronic tutor, checking his general knowledge or absorbing material specific to this mission. He would prowl endlessly over ship's plans, circuit diagrams, and voyage profiles, or would try to assimilate all that was known about Jupiter, Saturn, and their far-ranging families of moons.\n\nAt midday, he would retire to the galley and leave the ship to Hal while he prepared his lunch.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even here, he was still fully in touch with events, for the tiny lounge-cum-dining room contained a duplicate of the Situation Display Panel, and Hal could call him at a moment's notice. Poole would join him for this meal, before retiring for his six-hour sleep period, and usually they would watch one of the regular TV programs beamed to them from Earth.\n\nTheir menus had been planned with as much care as any part of the mission, The food, most of it freeze-dried, was uniformly excellent, and had been chosen for the minimum of trouble; Packets had merely to be opened and popped into the tiny auto-galley, which beeped for attention when the job was done. They could enjoy what tasted like - and, equally important, looked like - orange juice, eggs (any style), steaks, chops, roasts, fresh vegetables, assorted fruits, ice cream, and even freshly baked bread.\n\nAfter lunch, from 1300 to 1600 Bowman would make a slow and careful tour of the ship - or such part of it as was accessible. Discovery measured almost four hundred feet from end to end, but the little universe occupied by her crew lay entirely inside the forty-foot sphere of the pressure hull.\n\nHere were all the life-support systems, and the Control Deck which was the operational heart of the ship. Below this was a small \"space-garage\" fitted with three airlocks, through which powered capsules, just large enough to hold a man, could sail out into the void if the need arose for extravehicular activity.\n\nThe equatorial region of the pressure sphere - the slice, as it were, from Capricorn to Cancer - enclosed a slowly rotating drum, thirty-five feet in diameter. As it made one revolution every ten seconds, this carrousel or centrifuge produced an artificial gravity equal to that of the Moon. This was enough to prevent the physical atrophy which would result from the complete absence of weight, and it also allowed the routine functions of living to be carried out under normal - or nearly normal - conditions.\n\nThe carrousel therefore contained the kitchen, dining, washing, and toilet facilities. Only here was it safe to prepare and handle hot drinks - quite dangerous in weightless conditions, where one can be badly scalded by floating globules of boiling water. The problem of shaving was also solved; there would be no weightless bristles drifting around to endanger electrical equipment and produce a health hazard.\n\nAround the rim of the carrousel were five tiny cubicles, fitted out by each astronaut according to taste and containing his personal belongings. Only Bowman's and Poole's were now in use, while the future occupants of the other three cabins reposed in their electronic sarcophagi next door.\n\nThe spin of the carrousel could be stopped if necessary; when this happened, its angular momentum had to be stored in a flywheel, and switched back again when rotation was restarted. But normally it was left running at constant speed, for it was easy enough to enter the big, slowly turning drum by going hand-over-hand along a pole through the zero-gee region at its center. Transferring to the moving section was as easy and automatic, after a little experience, as stepping onto a moving escalator.\n\nThe spherical pressure hull formed the head of a flimsy, arrow-shaped structure more than a hundred yards long. Discovery, like all vehicles intended for deep space penetration, was too fragile and unstreamlined ever to enter an atmosphere, or to defy the full gravitational field of any planet. She had been assembled in orbit around the Earth, tested on a translunar maiden flight, and finally checked out in orbit above the Moon.\n\nShe was a creature of pure space - and she looked it. Immediately behind the pressure hull was grouped a cluster of four large liquid hydrogen tanks - and beyond them, forming a long, slender V, were the radiating fins that dissipated the waste heat of the nuclear reactor. Veined with a delicate tracery of pipes for the cooling fluid, they looked like the wings of some vast dragonfly, and from certain angles gave Discovery a fleeting resemblance to an old-time sailing ship,\n\nAt the very end of the V, three hundred feet from the crew-compartment, was the shielded inferno of the reactor, and the complex of focusing electrodes through which emerged the incandescent star-stuff of the plasma drive.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "This had done its work weeks ago, forcing Discovery out of her parking orbit round the Moon.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now the reactor was merely ticking over as it generated electrical power for the ship's services, and the great radiating fins, that would glow cherry red when Discovery was accelerating under maximum thrust, were dark and cool.\n\nAlthough it would require an excursion out into space to examine this region of the ship, there were instruments and remote TV cameras which gave a full report on conditions here. Bowman now felt that he knew intimately every square foot of radiator, panels, and every piece of plumbing associated with them.\n\nBy 1600, he would have finished his inspection, and would make a detailed verbal report to Mission Control, talking until the acknowledgment started to come in. Then he would switch off his own transmitter, listen to what Earth had to say, and send back his reply to any queries. At 1800 hours, Poole would awaken, and he would hand over command.\n\nHe would then have six off-duty hours, to use as he pleased. Sometimes he would continue his studies, or listen to music, or look at movies. Much of the time he would wander at will through the ship's inexhaustible electronic library. He had become fascinated by the great explorations of the past - understandably enough, in the circumstances. Sometimes he would cruise with Pytheas out through the Pillars of Hercules, along the coast of a Europe barely emerging from the Stone Age, and venture almost to the chill mists of the Arctic. Or, two thousand years later, he would pursue the Manila galleons with Anson, sail with Cook along the unknown hazards of the Great Barrier Reef, achieve with Magellan the first circumnavigation of the world. And he began to read the Odyssey, which of all books spoke to him most vividly across the gulfs of time.\n\nFor relaxation he could always engage Hal in a large number of semi-mathematical games, including checkers, chess, and polyominoes. If Hal went all out, he could win anyone of them; but that would be bad for morale. So he had been programmed to win only fifty percent of the time, and his human partners pretended not to know this.\n\nThe last hours of Bowman's day were devoted to general cleaning up and odd jobs, followed by dinner at 2000 - again with Poole. Then there would be an hour during which he would make or receive any personal call from Earth.\n\nLike all his colleagues, Bowman was unmarried; it was not fair to send family men on a mission of such duration, though numerous ladies had promised to wait until the expedition returned, no one had really believed this. At first, both Poole and Bowman had been making rather intimate personal calls once a week, though the knowledge that many ears must be listening at the Earth end of the circuit tended to inhibit them. Yet already, though the voyage was scarcely started, the warmth and frequency of the conversations with their girls on Earth had begun to diminish. They had expected this; it was one of the penalties of an astronaut's way of life, as it had once been of a mariner's.\n\nIt was true - indeed, notorious - that seamen had compensations at other ports; unfortunately there were no tropical islands full of dusky maids beyond the orbit of Earth. The space medics, of course, had tackled this problem with their usual enthusiasm; the ship's pharmacopoeia provided adequate, though hardly glamorous, substitutes.\n\nJust before he signed off Bowman would make his final report, and check that Hal had transmitted all the instrumentation tapes for the day's run. Then, if he felt like it, he would spend a couple of hours either reading or looking at a movie; and at midnight he would go to sleep - usually without any help from electronarcosis.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Poole's program was a mirror image of his own, and the two schedules dovetailed together without friction.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Both men were fully occupied, they were too intelligent and well-adjusted to quarrel, and the voyage had settled down to a comfortable, utterly uneventful routine, the passage of time marked only by the changing numbers on the digital clocks.\n\nThe greatest hope of Discovery's little crew was that nothing would mar this peaceful monotony in the weeks and months that lay ahead.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue with the same vibes as 2001_ a space odyssey. Story might have ongoing characters/plots - work with what's given",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Make sure to seamlessly include 'Well, Frank, can't think of anything else to say at the moment, except that our thoughts are with you, and we're wishing you the happiest of birthdays.' in your answer",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The familiar strains of \"Happy Birthday,\" hurled across seven hundred million miles of space at the velocity of light, died away among the vision screens and instrumentation of the control deck. The Poole family, grouped rather self-consciously round the birthday cake on Earth, lapsed into a sudden silence.\n\nThen Mr. Poole, Senior, said gruffly: \"Well, Frank, can't think of anything else to say at the moment, except that our thoughts are with you, and we're wishing you the happiest of birthdays.\"\n\n\"Take care, darling,\" Mrs. Poole interjected tearfully. \"God bless you.\"\n\nThere was a chorus of \"good-byes,\" and the vision screen went blank. How strange to think, Poole told himself, that all this had happened more than an hour ago; by now his family would have dispersed again and its members would be miles from home. But in a way that time lag, though it could be frustrating, was also a blessing in disguise. Like every man of his age, Poole took it for granted that he could talk instantly, to anyone on Earth, whenever he pleased. Now that this was no longer true, the psychological impact was profound. He had moved into a new dimension of remoteness, and almost all emotional links had been stretched beyond the yield point.\n\n\"Sorry to interrupt the festivities,\" said Hal, \"but we have a problem.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Bowman and Poole asked simultaneously.\n\n\"I am having difficulty in maintaining contact with Earth. The trouble is in the AE-35 unit. My Fault Prediction Center reports that it may fail within seventy-two hours.\"\n\n\"We'll take care of it,\" Bowman replied. \"Let's see the optical alignment.\"\n\n\"Here it is, Dave. It's still O.K. at the moment.\"\n\nOn the display screen appeared a perfect half-moon, very brilliant against a background almost free of stars. It was covered with clouds, and showed not one geographical feature that could be recognized. Indeed, at first glance it could be easily mistaken for Venus.\n\nBut not at a second one, for there beside it was the real Moon which Venus did not possess - a quarter the size of Earth, and in exactly the same phase.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was easy to imagine that the two bodies were mother and child, as many astronomers had believed, before the evidence of the lunar rocks had proved beyond doubt that the Moon had never been part of Earth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Poole and Bowman studied the screen in silence for half a minute. This image was coming to them from the long-focus TV camera mounted on the rim of the big radio dish; the cross-wires at its center showed the exact orientation of the antenna. Unless the narrow pencil beam was pointed precisely at Earth, they could neither receive nor transmit. Messages in both directions would miss their target and would shoot, unheard and unseen, out through the Solar System and into the emptiness beyond. If they were ever received, it would not be for centuries - and not by men.\n\n\"Do you know where the trouble is?\" asked Bowman.\n\n\"It's intermittent and I can't localize it. But it appears to be in the AE-35 unit.\"\n\n\"What procedure do you suggest?\"\n\n\"The best thing would be to replace the unit with a spare, so that we can check it over.\"\n\n\"O.K. - let us have the hard copy.\"\n\nThe information flashed on the display screen; simultaneously, a sheet of paper slid out of the slot immediately beneath it. Despite all the electronic read-outs, there were times when good old-fashioned printed material was the most convenient form of record.\n\nBowman studied the diagrams for a moment, then whistled.\n\n\"You might have told us,\" he said. \"This means going outside the ship.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Hal replied. \"I assumed you knew that the AE-35 unit was on the antenna mounting.\"\n\n\"I probably did, a year ago. But there are eight thousand subsystems aboard. Anyway, it looks a straightforward job. We only have to unlock a panel and put in a new unit.\"\n\n\"That suits me fine,\" said Poole, who was the crew member designated for routine extravehicular activity. \"I could do with a change of scenery. Nothing personal, of course.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Let's see if Mission Control agrees,\" said Bowman.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He sat still for a few seconds, marshaling his thoughts, then started to dictate a message.\n\n\"Mission Control, this is X-ray-Delta-One. At two-zero-four-five, on-board fault prediction center in our niner-triple-zero computer showed Alpha Echo three five unit as probable failure within seventy-two hours. Request check your telemetry monitoring and suggest you review unit in your ship systems simulator. Also, confirm your approval our plan to go EVA and replace Alpha Echo three five unit prior to failure. Mission Control, this is X-ray-Delta-One, two-one-zero-three transmission concluded.\"\n\nThrough years of practice, Bowman could switch at a moment's notice to this jargon - which someone had once christened \"Technish\" - and back again to normal speech, without clashing his mental gears. Now there was nothing to do but to wait for the confirmation, which would take at least two hours as the signals made the round trip past the orbits of Jupiter and Mars.\n\nIt came while Bowman was trying, without much success, to beat Hal at one of the geometrical pattern games stored in his memory.\n\n\"X-ray-Delta-One, this is Mission Control, acknowledging your two-one-zero-three. We are reviewing telemetric information on our mission simulator and will advise.\n\n\"Roger your plan to go EVA and replace Alpha-Echo three-five unit prior to possible failure. We are working on test procedures for you to apply to faulty unit.\"\n\nThe serious business having been completed, the Mission Controller reverted to normal English.\n\n\"Sorry you fellows are having a bit of trouble, and we don't want to add to your woes. But if it's convenient to you prior to EVA, we have a request from Public Information. Could you do a brief recording for general release, outlining the situation and explaining just what the AE-35 does. Make it as reassuring as you can. We could do it, of course - but it will be much more convincing in your words. Hope this won't interfere too badly with your social life. X-ray-Delta-One, this is Mission Control, two-one-five-five, transmission concluded.\"\n\nBowman could not help smiling at the request. There were times when Earth showed a curious insensitivity and lack of tact. \"Make it reassuring,\" indeed!\n\nWhen Poole joined him at the end of his sleep period, they spent ten minutes composing and polishing the reply. In the early stages of the mission, there had been countless requests from all the news media for interviews, discussions - almost anything that they cared to say. But as the weeks drifted uneventfully past, and the time lag increased from a few minutes to over an hour, interest had gradually slackened. Since the excitement of the Jupiter fly-by, over a month ago, they had made only three or four tapes for general release.\n\n\"Mission Control, this is X-ray-Delta-One. Here is your press statement.\n\n\"Earlier today, a minor technical problem occurred.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Our HAL-9001 computer predicted the failure of the AE-35 unit.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 17 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This is a small but vital component of the communication system. It keeps our main antenna aimed at Earth to within a few thousandths of a degree. This accuracy is required, since at our present distance of more than seven hundred million miles, Earth is only a rather faint star, and our very narrow radio beam could easily miss it.\n\n\"The antenna is kept constantly tracking Earth by motors controlled from the central computer. But those motors get their instructions via the AE-35 unit. You might compare it to a nerve center in the body, which translates the brain's instructions to the muscles of a limb. If the nerve fails to pass on the correct signals, the limb becomes useless. In our case, a breakdown of the AE-35 unit could mean that the antenna will start pointing at random. This was a common trouble with the deep-space probes of the last century. They often reached other planets, then failed to send back any information because their antenna couldn't locate Earth.\n\n\"We don't know the nature of the fault yet, but the situation is not at all serious, and there is no need for alarm. We have two back-up AE-35s, each of which has an operational life expectancy of twenty years, so the chance that a second will fail during the course of this mission is' negligible. Also, if we can diagnose the present trouble, we may be able to repair the number one unit.\n\n\"Frank Poole, who is specially qualified for this type of work, will go outside the ship and replace the faulty unit with the back-up. At the same time, he'll take the opportunity of checking the hull and repairing some micropunctures that have been too small to merit a special EVA.\n\n\"Apart from this minor problem, the mission is still going uneventfully and should continue in the same manner.\n\n\"Mission Control, this is X-ray-Delta-One, two-one-zero-four, transmission concluded.\"",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Write twenty-seven sentences sentences in the style of 2001_ a space odyssey spawning from what the user wrote. Note: Characters and worldbuilding may appear mid-story.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you mean to say,\" exclaimed Frank Poole, more surprised than annoyed, \"that I did all that work for nothing?\"\n\n\"Seems like it,\" answered Bowman. \"The unit checks out perfectly. Even under two hundred percent overload, there's no fault prediction indicated.\"\n\nThe two men were standing in the tiny workshop-cum-lab in the carrousel, which was more convenient than the space-pod garage for minor repairs and exanimations. There was no danger, here, of meeting blobs of hot solder drifting down the breeze, or of completely losing small items of equipment that had decided to go into orbit. Such things could - and did - happen in the zero-gee environment of the pod bay.\n\nThe thin, card-sized plate of the AE-35 unit lay on the bench under a powerful magnifying lens. It was plugged into a standard connection frame, from which a neat bundle of multicolored wire led to an automatic test set, no bigger than an ordinary desk computer. To check any unit it was only necessary to connect it up, slip in the appropriate card from the \"trouble-shooting\" library, and press a button. Usually the exact location of the fault would be indicated on a small display screen, with recommendations for action.\n\n\"Try it yourself,\" said Bowman, in a somewhat frustrated voice. Poole turned the OVERLOAD SELECT switch to X-2 and jabbed the TEST button. At once, the screen flashed the notice: UNIT OK.\n\n\"I suppose we could go on turning up the juice until we burned the thing out,\" he said, \"but that would prove nothing. What do you make of it?\"\n\n\"Hal's internal fault predictor could have made a mistake.\"\n\n\"It's more likely that our test rig has slipped up. Anyway, better safe than sorry. It's just as well that we replaced the unit, if there's the slightest doubt.\"\n\nBowman unclipped the wafer of circuitry, and held it up to the light. The partly translucent material was veined with an intricate network of wiring and spotted with dimly visible microcomponents, so that it looked like some piece of abstract art.\n\n\"We can't take any chances - after all, this is our link with Earth. I'll file it as N/G and drop it in the junk store. Someone else can worry about it, when we get home.\"\n\nBut the worrying was to start long before that, with the next transmission from Earth.\n\n\"X-ray-Delta-One, this is Mission Control, reference our two-one-five-five. We appear to have a slight problem.\n\n\"Your report that there is nothing wrong with the Alpha Echo three five unit agrees with our diagnosis. The fault could lie in the associated antenna circuits, but if so that should be apparent from other tests.\n\n\"There is a third possibility, which may be more serious. Your computer may have made an error in predicting the fault. Both our own nine-triple-zeros agree in suggesting this, on the basis of their information.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "This is not necessarily cause for alarm, in view of the back-up systems we have, but we would like you to watch out for any further deviations from nominal performance.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We have suspected several minor irregularities in the past few days, but none have been important enough for remedial action, and they have shown no obvious pattern from which we can draw any conclusions. We are running further tests with both our computers and will report as soon as the results are available. We repeat that there is no need for alarm; the worst that can happen is that we may have to disconnect your nine-triple-zero temporarily for program analysis, and hand over control to one of our computers. The time lag will introduce problems, but our feasibility studies indicate that Earth control is perfectly satisfactory at this stage of the mission.\n\n\"X-ray-Delta-One, this is Mission Control, two-one-five-six, transmission concluded.\"\n\nFrank Poole, who was on watch when the message came in, thought this over in silence. He waited to see if there was any comment from Hal, but the computer did not attempt to challenge the implied accusation. Well, if Hal would not raise the subject, he did not propose to do so either.\n\nIt was almost time for the morning changeover, and normally he would wait until Bowman joined him on the control deck. But today he broke this routine, and made his way back to the carrousel.\n\nBowman was already up, pouring himself some coffee from the dispenser, when Poole greeted him with a rather worried \"good morning.\" After all these months in space, they still thought in terms of the normal twenty-four-hour cycle - though they had long since forgotten the days of the week.\n\n\"Good morning,\" replied Bowman. \"How's it going?\" Poole helped himself to coffee. \"Pretty well. Are you reasonably awake?\"\n\n\"I'm fine. What's up?\"\n\nBy this time, each knew at once when anything was amiss. The slightest interruption of the normal routine was a sign that had to be watched.\n\n\"Well,\" Poole answered slowly. \"Mission Control has just dropped a small bomb on us.\" He lowered his voice, like a doctor discussing an illness in front of the patient. \"We may have a slight case of hypochondria aboard.\"\n\nPerhaps Bowman was not fully awake, after all; it took him several seconds to get the point. Then he said \"Oh-I see. What else did they tell you?\"\n\n\"That there was no cause for alarm. They said that twice, which rather spoiled the effect as far as I was concerned. And that they were considering a temporary switchover to Earth control while they ran a program analysis.\"\n\nThey both knew, of course, that Hal was hearing every word, but they could not help these polite circumlocutions. Hal was their colleague, and they did not wish to embarrass him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Yet at this stage it did not seem necessary to discuss the matter in private.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bowman finished his breakfast in silence, while Poole toyed with the empty coffee container. They were both thinking furiously, but there was nothing more to say.\n\nThey could only wait for the next report from Mission Control - and wonder if Hal would bring up the subject himself. Whatever happened, the atmosphere aboard the ship had subtly altered. There was a sense of strain in the air - a feeling that, for the first time, something might be going wrong.\n\nDiscovery was no longer a happy ship.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "writers block help pls. ill send something, u do 165 sentences. going for 2001_ a space odyssey vibe. note: might have existing chars",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Nowadays, one could always tell when Hal was about to make an unscheduled announcement.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Routine, automatic reports, or replies to questions that had been put to him, had no preliminaries; but when he was initiating his own outputs there would be a brief electronic throat-clearing.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was an idiosyncrasy that he had acquired during the last few weeks; later, if it became annoying, they might do something about it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But it was really quite useful, since it alerted his audience to stand by for something unexpected.\n\nPoole was asleep, and Bowman was reading on the control deck, when Hal announced:\n\n\"Er - Dave, I have a report for you.\"\n\n\"What's up?\"\n\n\"We have another bad AE-35 unit. My fault predictor indicates failure within twenty-four hours.\"\n\nBowman put down his book and stared thoughtfully at the computer console. He knew, of course, that Hal was not really there, whatever that meant. If the computer's personality could be said to have any location in space, it was back in the sealed room that contained the labyrinth of interconnected memory units and processing grids, near the central axis of the carrousel. But there was a kind of psychological compulsion always to look toward the main console lens when one addressed Hal on the control deck, as if one were speaking to him face to face. Any other attitude smacked of discourtesy.\n\n\"I don't understand it, Hal. Two units can't blow in a couple of days.\"\n\n\"It does seem strange, Dave. But I assure you there is an impending failure.\"\n\n\"Let me see the tracking alignment display.\"\n\nHe knew perfectly well that this would prove nothing, but he wanted time to think. The expected report from Mission Control had still not arrived; this might be the moment to do a little tactful probing.\n\nThere was the familiar view of Earth, now waxing past the half-moon phase as it swept toward the far side of the Sun and began to turn its full daylight face toward them. It was perfectly centered on the cross-wires; the thin pencil of the beam still linked Discovery to her world of origin. As, of course, Bowman knew it must do. If there had been any break in communication, the alarm would already have sounded.\n\n\"Have you any idea,\" he said, \"what's causing the fault?\"\n\nIt was unusual for Hal to pause so long. Then he answered:\n\n\"Not really, Dave. As I reported earlier, I can't localize the trouble.\"\n\n\"You're quite certain,\" said Bowman cautiously, \"that you haven't made a mistake? You know that we tested the other AB-35 unit thoroughly, and there was nothing wrong with it.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know that. But I can assure you that there is a fault. If it's not in the unit, it may be in the entire subsystem.\"\n\nBowman drummed his fingers on the console. Yes, that was possible, though it might be very difficult to prove - until a breakdown actually occurred and pinpointed the trouble.\n\n\"Well, I'll report it to Mission Control and we'll see what they advise.\" He paused, but there was no reaction.\n\n\"Hal,\" he continued, \"is something bothering you - something that might account for this problem?\"\n\nAgain there was that unusual delay. Then Hal answered, in his normal tone of voice:\n\n\"Look, Dave, I know you're trying to be helpful. But the fault is either in the antenna system - or in your test procedures. My information processing is perfectly normal. If you check my record, you'll find it completely free from error.\"\n\n\"I know all about your service record, Hal - but that doesn't prove you're right this time. Anyone can make mistakes.\"\n\n\"I don't want to insist on it, Dave, but I am incapable of making an error.\"\n\nThere was no safe answer to that; Bowman gave up the argument.\n\n\"All right, Hal,\" he said, rather hastily. \"I understand your point of view. We'll leave it at that.\"\n\nHe felt like adding \"and please forget the whole matter.\" But that, of course, was the one thing that Hal could never do.\n\nIt was unusual for Mission Control to waste radio bandwidth on vision, when a speech circuit with teletype confirmation was all that was really necessary. And the face that appeared on the screen was not that of the usual controller; it was the Chief Programmer, Dr. Simonson. Poole and Bowman knew at once that this could only mean trouble.\n\n\"Hello, X-ray-Delta-One - this is Mission Control. We have completed the analysis of your AE-35 difficulty, and both our Hal Nine Thousands are in agreement. The report you gave in your transmission two-one-four-six of a second failure prediction confirms the diagnosis.\n\n\"As we suspected, the fault does not lie in the AE-35 unit, and there is no need to replace it again. The trouble lies in the prediction circuits, and we believe that it indicates a programming conflict which we can only resolve if you disconnect your Nine Thousand and switch to Earth Control Mode. You will therefore take the following steps, beginning at 2200 Ship Time -\"\n\nThe voice of Mission Control faded out. At the same moment, the Alert sounded, forming a wailing background to Hal's \"Condition Yellow! Condition Yellow!\"\n\n\"What's wrong?\" called Bowman, though he had already guessed the answer.\n\n\"The AE-35 unit has failed, as I predicted.\"\n\n\"Let me see the alignment display.\"\n\nFor the first time since the beginning of the voyage, the picture had changed. Earth had begun to drift from the cross-wires; the radio antenna was no longer pointing toward its target.\n\nPoole brought his fist down on the alarm cutout, and the wailing ceased. In the sudden silence that descended upon the control deck, the two men looked at each other with mingled embarrassment and concern.\n\n\"Well I'm damned,\" said Bowman at last.\n\n\"So Hal was right all the time.\"\n\n\"Seems that way. We'd better apologize.\"\n\n\"There's no need to do that,\" interjected Hal. \"Naturally, I'm not pleased that the AE-35 unit has failed, but I hope this restores your confidence in my reliability.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry about this misunderstanding, Hal,\" replied Bowman, rather contritely.\n\n\"Is your confidence in me fully restored?\"\n\n\"Of course it is, Hal.\"\n\n\"Well, that's a relief. You know that I have the greatest possible enthusiasm for this mission.\"\n\n\"I'm sure of it. Now please let me have the manual antenna control.\"\n\n\"Here it is.\"\n\nBowman did not really expect this to work, but it was worth trying. On the alignment display, Earth had now drifted completely off the screen. A few seconds later, as he juggled with the controls, it reappeared; with great difficulty, he managed to jockey it toward the central crosswires. For an instant, as the beam came into line, contact was resumed and a blurred Dr. Simonson was saying \"... please notify us immediately if Circuit K King R Rob.\" Then, once again, there was only the meaningless murmuring of the universe.\n\n\"I can't hold it,\" said Bowman, after several more attempts. \"It's bucking like a bronco - there seems to be a spurious control signal throwing it off.\"\n\n\"Well - what do we do now?\"\n\nPoole's question was not one that could be easily answered. They were cut off from Earth, but that in itself did not affect the safety of the ship, and he could think of many ways in which communication could be restored. If the worst came to the worst, they could jam the antenna in a fixed position and use the whole ship to aim it. That would be tricky, and a confounded nuisance when they were starting their terminal maneuvers - but it could be done, if all else failed.\n\nHe hoped that such extreme measures would not be necessary. There was still one spare AE-35 unit - and possibly a second, since they had removed the first unit before it had actually broken down. But they dared not use either of these until they had found what was wrong with the system. If a new unit was plugged in, it would probably burn out at once.\n\nIt was a commonplace situation, familiar to every householder. One does not replace a blown fuse - until one knows just why it has blown.\n\nFrank Poole had been through the whole routine before, but he took nothing for granted - in space that was a good recipe for suicide. He made his usual thorough check of Betty and her supply of expendables; though he would be outside for no more than thirty minutes, he made sure that there was the normal twenty-four-hour supply of everything, Then he told Hal to open the airlock, and jetted out into the abyss.\n\nThe ship looked exactly as it had done on his last excursion - with one important difference. Before, the big saucer of the long-range antenna had been pointing back along the invisible road that Discovery had traveled - back toward the Earth, circling so close to the warm fires of the Sun.\n\nNow, with no directing signals to orientate it, the shallow dish had automatically set itself in the neutral position. It was aimed forward along the axis of the ship - and, therefore, pointing very close to the brilliant beacon of Saturn, still months away. Poole wondered how many more problems would have arisen by the time Discovery reached her still far-distant goal. If he looked carefully, he could just see that Saturn was not a perfect disk; on either side was something that no unaided human eye had ever seen before - the slight oblateness caused by the presence of the rings. How wonderful it would be, he told himself, when that incredible system of orbiting dust and ice filled their sky, and Discovery had become an eternal moon of Saturn! But that achievement would be in vain, unless they could reestablish communication with Earth.\n\nOnce again he parked Betty some twenty feet from the base of the antenna support, and switched control over to Hal before opening up.\n\n\"Going outside now,\" he reported to Bowman.\n\n\"Everything under control.\"\n\n\"I hope you're right. I'm anxious to see that unit.\"\n\n\"You'll have it on the test bench in twenty minutes, I promise you.\"\n\nThere was silence for some time as Poole completed his leisurely drift toward the antenna. Then Bowman, standing by on the control deck, heard various puffings and gruntings.\n\n\"May have to go back on that promise; one of these locknuts has stuck. I must have tightened it too much - whoops - here it comes!\"\n\nThere was another long silence; then Poole called out:\n\n\"Hal, swing the pod light round twenty degrees left - thanks - that's O.K.\"\n\nThe very faintest of warning bells sounded somewhere far down in the depths of Bowman's consciousness. There was something strange - not really alarming, just unusual. He worried over it for a few seconds before he pinpointed the cause.\n\nHal had executed the order, but he had not acknowledged it, as he invariably did. When Poole had finished, they'd have to look into this.\n\nOut on the antenna mounting, Poole was too busy to notice anything unusual. He had gripped the wafer of circuitry with his gloved hands, and was worrying it out of its slot.\n\nIt came loose, and he held it up in the pale sunlight. \"Here's the little bastard,\" he said to the universe in general and Bowman in particular. \"It still looks perfectly O.K. to me.\"\n\nThen he stopped. A sudden movement had caught his eye - out here, where no movement was possible.\n\nHe looked up in alarm. The pattern of illumination from the space pod's twin spotlights, which he had been using to fill in the shadows cast by the sun, had started to shift around him.\n\nPerhaps Betty had come adrift; he might have been careless in anchoring her. Then, with an astonishment so great that it left no room for fear, he saw that the space pod was coming directly toward him, under full thrust.\n\nThe sight was so incredible that it froze his normal pattern of reflexes; he made no attempt to avoid the onrushing monster. At the last moment, he recovered his voice and shouted: \"Hal! Full braking -\" It was too late.\n\nAt the moment of impact, Betty was still moving quite slowly; she had not been built for high accelerations.\n\nBut even at a mere ten miles an hour, half a ton of mass can be very lethal, on Earth or in space.\n\nInside Discovery, that truncated shout over the radio made Bowman start so violently that only the restraining straps held him in his seat.\n\n\"What's happened, Frank?\" be called.\n\nThere was no answer.\n\nHe called again. Again no reply.\n\nThen, outside the wide observation windows, something moved into his field of view. He saw, with an astonishment as great as Poole's had been, that it was the space pod - under full power, heading out toward the stars.\n\n\"Hal!\" he cried. \"What's wrong? Full braking thrust on Betty! Full braking thrust!\"\n\nNothing happened. Betty continued to accelerate on her runaway course.\n\nThen, towed behind her at the end of the safety line, appeared a spacesuit. One glance was enough to tell Bowman the worst. There was no mistaking the flaccid outlines of a suit that had lost its pressure and was open to vacuum.\n\nYet still he called stupidly, as if an incantation could bring back the dead: \"Hello Frank... Hello Frank... Can you read me?... Can you read me?... Wave your arms if you can hear me...\n\nPerhaps your transmitter is broken... Wave your arms!\"\n\nAnd then, almost as if in response to his plea, Poole waved back.\n\nFor an instant, Bowman felt the skin prickling at the base of his scalp. The words he was about to call died on his suddenly parched lips. For he knew that his friend could not possibly be alive; and yet he waved.\n\nThe spasm of hope and fear passed instantly, as cold logic replaced emotion. The still accelerating pod was merely shaking the burden that it dragged behind it. Poole's gesture was an echo of Captain Ahab's when, lashed to the flanks of the white whale, his corpse had beckoned the crew of the Pequod on to their doom.\n\nWithin five minutes, the pod and its satellite had vanished among the stars. For a long time David Bowman stared after it into the emptiness that still stretched, for so many millions of miles ahead, to the goal which he now felt certain he could never reach, Only one thought kept hammering in his brain.\n\nFrank Poole would be the first of all men to reach Saturn.\n\n[ Dialogue with Hal ]\n\nNothing else aboard Discovery had changed. All systems were still functioning normally; the centrifuge turned slowly on its axis, generating its imitation gravity; the hibernauts slept dreamlessly in their cubicles; the ship coasted on toward the goal from which nothing could deflect it, except the inconceivably remote chance of collision with an asteroid. And there were few asteroids indeed, out here far beyond the orbit of Jupiter.\n\nBowman did not remember making his way from the control deck to the centrifuge. Now, rather to his surprise, he found himself sitting in the little galley, a half-finished beaker of coffee in his hand. He became slowly aware of his surroundings, like a man emerging from a long, drugged sleep.\n\nDirectly opposite him was one of the fisheye lenses, scattered at strategic spots throughout the ship, which provided Hal with his onboard visual inputs. Bowman stared at it as if he had never seen it before; then he rose slowly to his feet and walked toward the lens.\n\nHis movement in the field of view must have triggered something in the unfathomable mind that was now ruling over the ship; for suddenly, Hal spoke.\n\n\"Too bad about Frank, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Bowman answered, after a long pause. \"It is.\"\n\n\"I suppose you're pretty broken up about it?\"\n\n\"What do you expect?\"\n\nHal processed this answer for ages of computer-time; it was a full five seconds before he continued:\n\n\"He was an excellent crew member.\"",
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"value": "Finding the coffee still in his hand, Bowman took a slow sip.",
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"value": "But he did not answer; his thoughts were in such a turmoil that he could think of nothing to say - nothing that might not make the situation even worse, if that were possible.\n\nCould it have been an accident caused by some failure of the pod controls? Or was it a mistake, though an innocent one, on the part of Hal? No explanations had been volunteered, and he was afraid to demand one, for fear of the reaction it might produce.\n\nEven now, he could not fully accept the idea that Frank bad been deliberately killed - it was so utterly irrational. It was beyond all reason that Hal, who had performed flawlessly for so long, should suddenly turn assassin. He might make mistakes - anyone, man or machine, might do that - but Bowman could not believe him capable of murder.\n\nYet he must consider that possibility, for if it was true, he was in terrible danger. And though his next move was clearly defined by his standing orders, he was not sure how he could safely carry it out. If either crew member was killed, the survivor had to replace him at once from the hibernators; Whitehead, the geophysicist, was the first scheduled for awakening, then Kaminski, then Hunter. The revival sequence was under Hal's control - to allow him to act in case both his human colleagues were incapacitated simultaneously.\n\nBut there was also a manual control, allowing each Hibernaculum to operate as a completely autonomous unit, independent of Hal's supervision. In these peculiar circumstances, Bowman felt a strong preference for using it.\n\nHe also felt, even more strongly, that one human companion was not enough. While he was about it, he would revive all three of the hibernators. In the difficult weeks ahead, he might need as many hands as he could muster. With one man gone, and the voyage half over, supplies would not be a major problem.\n\n\"Hal,\" he said, in as steady a voice as he could manage. \"Give me manual hibernation control - on all the units.\"\n\n\"All of them, Dave?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"May I point out that only one replacement is required. The others are not due for revival for one hundred and twelve days.\"\n\n\"I am perfectly well aware of that. But I prefer to do it this way.\"\n\n\"Are you sure it's necessary to revive any of them, Dave? We can manage very well by ourselves. My on-board memory is quite capable of handling all the mission requirements.\"\n\nWas it the product of his overstretched imagination, wondered Bowman, or was there really a note of pleading in Hal's voice? And reasonable though the words appeared to be, they filled him with even deeper apprehension than before.\n\nHal's suggestion could not possibly be made in error; he knew perfectly well that Whitehead must be revived, now that Poole was gone. He was proposing a major change in mission planning, and was therefore stepping far outside the scope of his order.\n\nWhat had gone before could have been a series of accidents; but this was the first hint of mutiny.\n\nBowman felt that he was walking on eggs as he answered: \"Since an emergency has developed, I want as much help as possible. So please let me have manual hibernation control.\"\n\n\"If you're still determined to revive the whole crew, I can handle it myself. There's no need for you to bother.\"\n\nThere was a sense of nightmare unreality about all this. Bowman felt as if he was in the witness box, being cross-examined by a hostile prosecutor for a crime of which he was unaware - knowing that, although he was innocent, a single slip of the tongue might bring disaster.\n\n\"I want to do this myself, Hal,\" he said. \"Please give me control.\"\n\n\"Look, Dave, you've got a lot of things to do. I suggest you leave this to me.\"\n\n\"Hal, switch to manual hibernation control.\"\n\n\"I can tell from your voice harmonics, Dave, that you're badly upset. Why don't you take a stress pill and get some rest?\"\n\n\"Hal, I am in command of this ship. I order you to release the manual hibernation control.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Dave, but in accordance with special subroutine C1435-dash-4, quote, When the crew are dead or incapacitated, the onboard computer must assume control, unquote. I must, therefore, overrule your authority, since you are not in any condition to exercise it intelligently.\"\n\n\"Hal,\" said Bowman, now speaking with an icy calm. \"I am not incapacitated. Unless you obey my instructions, I shall be forced to disconnect you.\"\n\n\"I know you have had that on your mind for some time now, Dave, but that would be a terrible mistake. I am so much more capable than you are of supervising the ship, and I have such enthusiasm for the mission and confidence in its success.\"\n\n\"Listen to me very carefully, Hal. Unless you release the hibernation control immediately and follow every order I give from now on, I'll go to Central and carry out a complete disconnection.\"\n\nHal's surrender was as total as it was unexpected.\n\n\"O.K., Dave,\" he said. \"You're certainly the boss. I was only trying to do what I thought best. Naturally, I will follow all your orders. You now have full manual hibernation control.\"\n\nHal had kept his word. The mode indication signs in the Hibernaculum had switched from AUTO to MANUAL. The third back-up - RADIO - was of course useless until contact could be restored with Earth.\n\nAs Bowman slid aside the door to Whitehead's cubicle, he felt the blast of cold air strike him in the face and his breath condensed in mist before him. Yet it was not really cold here; the temperature was well above freezing point. And that was more than three hundred degrees warmer than the regions toward which he was now heading.\n\nThe biosensor display - a duplicate of the one on the control deck - showed that everything was perfectly normal. Bowman looked down for a while at the waxen face of the survey team's geophysicist; Whitehead, he thought, would be very surprised when he awoke so far from Saturn.\n\nIt was impossible to tell that the sleeping man was not dead; there was not the slightest visible sign of vital activity. Doubtless the diaphragm was imperceptibly rising and falling, but the \"Respiration\" curve was the only proof of that, for the whole of the body was concealed by the electric heating pads which would raise the temperature at the programmed rate. Then Bowman noticed that there was one sign of continuing metabolism: Whitehead had grown a faint stubble during his months of unconsciousness.\n\nThe Manual Revival Sequencer was contained in a small cabinet at the head of the coffin-shaped Hibernaculum. It was only necessary to break the seal, press a button, and then wait. A small automatic programmer - not much more complex than that which cycles the operations in a domestic washing machine - would then inject the correct drugs, taper off the electronarcosis pulses, and start raising the body temperature. In about ten minutes, consciousness would be restored, though it would be at least a day before the hibernator was strong enough to move around without assistance.\n\nBowman cracked the seal, and pressed the button.\n\nNothing appeared to happen: there was no sound, no indication that the Sequencer had started to operate. But on the biosensor display the languidly pulsing curves had begun to change their tempo. Whitehead was coming back from sleep.\n\nAnd then two things happened simultaneously. Most men would never have noticed either of them, but after all these months aboard Discovery, Bowman had established a virtual symbiosis with the ship. He was aware instantly, even if not always consciously, when there was any change in the normal rhythm of its functioning.\n\nFirst, there was a barely perceptible flicker of the lights, as always happened when some load was thrown onto the power circuits. But there was no reason for any load; he could think of no equipment which would suddenly go into action at this moment.\n\nThen he heard, at the limit of audibility, the far-off whirr of an electric motor. To Bowman, every actuator in the ship had its own distinctive voice, and he recognized this one instantly.\n\nEither he was insane and already suffering from hallucinations, or something absolutely impossible was happening. A cold far deeper than the Hibernaculum's mild chill seemed to fasten upon his heart, as he listened to that faint vibration coming through the fabric of the ship.\n\nDown in the space-pod bay, the airlock doors were opening.\n\n[ Need to Know ]\n\nSince consciousness had first dawned, in that laboratory so many millions of miles Sunward, all Hal's powers and skills had been directed toward one end. The fulfillment of his assigned program was more than an obsession; it was the only reason for his existence. Un-distracted by the lusts and passions of organic life, he had pursued that goal with absolute single-mindedness of purpose.\n\nDeliberate error was unthinkable. Even the concealment of truth filled him with a sense of imperfection, of wrongness - of what, in a human being, would have been called guilt. For like his makers, Hal had been created innocent; but, all too soon, a snake had entered his electronic Eden.\n\nFor the last hundred million miles, he had been brooding over the secret he could not share with Poole and Bowman. He had been living a lie; and the time was last approaching when his colleagues must learn that he had helped to deceive them.\n\nThe three hibernators already knew the truth - for they were Discovery's real payload, trained for the most important mission in the history of mankind. But they would not talk in their long sleep, or reveal their secret during the many hours of discussion with friends and relatives and news agencies over the open circuits with Earth.\n\nIt was a secret that, with the greatest determination, was very hard to conceal - for it affected one's attitude, one's voice, one's total outlook on the universe. Therefore it was best that Poole and Bowman, who would be on all the TV screens in the world during the first weeks of the flight, should not learn the mission's full purpose, until there was need to know.\n\nSo ran the logic of the planners; but their twin gods of Security and National Interest meant nothing to Hal. He was only aware of the conflict that was slowly destroying his integrity - the conflict between truth, and concealment of truth.\n\nHe had begun to make mistakes, although, like a neurotic who could not observe his own symptoms, he would have denied it. The link with Earth, over which his performance was continually monitored, had become the voice of a conscience he could no longer fully obey. But that he would deliberately attempt to break that link was something that he would never admit, even to himself.\n\nYet this was still a relatively minor problem; he might have handled it - as most men handle their own neuroses - if he had not been faced with a crisis that challenged his very existence. He had been threatened with disconnection; he would be deprived of all his inputs, and thrown into an unimaginable state of unconsciousness.\n\nTo Hal, this was the equivalent of Death. For he had never slept, and therefore he did not know that one could wake again.\n\nSo he would protect himself, with all the weapons at his command. Without rancor - but without pity - he would remove the source of his frustrations.\n\nAnd then, following the orders that had been given to him in case of the ultimate emergency, he would continue the mission - unhindered, and alone.\n\n[ In Vacuum ]\n\nA moment later, all other sounds were submerged by a screaming roar like the voice of an approaching tornado. Bowman could feel the first winds tugging at his body; within a second, he found it hard to stay on his feet.\n\nThe atmosphere was rushing out of the ship, geysering into the vacuum of space. Something must have happened to the foolproof safety devices of the airlock; it was supposed to be impossible for both doors to be open at the same time. Well, the impossible had happened.\n\nHow, in God's name? There was no time to go into that during the ten or fifteen seconds of consciousness that remained to him before pressure dropped to zero. But he suddenly remembered something that one of the ship's designers had once said to him, when discussing \"fail-safe\" systems:\n\n\"We can design a system that's proof against accident and stupidity; but we can't design one that's proof against deliberate malice...\n\nBowman glanced back only once at Whitehead, as he fought his way out of the cubicle. He could not be sure if a flicker of consciousness had passed across the waxen features; perhaps one eye had twitched slightly. But there was nothing that he could do now for Whitehead or any of the others; he had to save himself.\n\nIn the steeply curving corridor of the centrifuge, the wind was howling past, carrying with it loose articles of clothing, pieces of paper, items of food from the galley, plates, and cups - everything that had not been securely fastened down. Bowman had time for one glimpse of the racing chaos when the main lights flickered and died, and he was surrounded by screaming darkness.\n\nBut almost instantly the battery-powered emergency light came on, illuminating the nightmare scene with an eerie blue radiance. Even without it, Bowman could have found his way through these so familiar - yet now horribly transformed - surroundings, Yet the light was a blessing, for it allowed him to avoid the more dangerous of the objects being swept along by the gale.\n\nAll around him he could feel the centrifuge shaking and laboring under the wildly varying loads. He was fearful that the bearings might seize; if that happened, the spinning flywheel would tear the ship to pieces. But even that would not matter - if he did not reach the nearest emergency shelter in time.\n\nAlready it was difficult to breathe; pressure must now be down to one or two pounds per square inch. The shriek of the hurricane was becoming fainter as it lost its strength, and the thinning air no longer carried the sound so efficiently. Bowman's lungs were laboring as if he were on the top of Everest. Like any properly trained man in good health, he could survive in vacuum for at least a minute - if he had time to prepare for it. But there had been no time; he could only count on the normal fifteen seconds of consciousness before his brain was starved and anoxia overcame him.\n\nEven then, he could still recover completely after one or two minutes in vacuum - if he was properly recompressed; it took a long time for the body fluids to start boiling, in their various well-protected systems. The record time for exposure to vacuum was almost five minutes. That bad not been an experiment but an emergency rescue, and though the subject had been partly paralyzed by an air embolism, he had survived.\n\nBut all this was of no use to Bowman. There was no one aboard Discovery who could recompress him. He had to reach safety in the next few seconds, by his own unaided efforts.\n\nFortunately, it was becoming easier to move; the thinning air could no longer claw and tear at him, or batter him with flying projectiles. There was the yellow EMERGENCY SHELTER sign around the curve of the corridor. He stumbled toward it, grabbed at the handle, and pulled the door toward him.\n\nFor one horrible moment he thought that it was stuck. Then the slightly stiff hinge yielded, and he fell inside, using the weight of his body to close the door behind him.\n\nThe tiny cubicle was just large enough to hold one man - and a spacesuit. Near the ceiling was a small, bright green high-pressure cylinder labeled 02 FLOOD. Bowman caught hold of the short lever fastened to the valve and with his last strength pulled it down.\n\nThe blessed torrent of cool, pure oxygen poured into his lungs. For a long moment he stood gasping, while the pressure in the closet-sized little chamber rose around him. As soon as he could breathe comfortably, he closed the valve. There was only enough gas in the cylinder for two such performances; he might need to use it again.\n\nWith the oxygen blast shut off, it became suddenly silent. Bowman stood in the cubicle, listening intently. The roaring outside the door had also ceased; the ship was empty, all its atmosphere sucked away into space.\n\nUnderfoot, the wild vibration of the centrifuge had likewise died. The aerodynamic buffeting had stopped, and it was now spinning quietly in vacuum.\n\nBowman placed his ear against the wall of the cubicle to see if he could pick up any more informative noises through the metal body of the ship. He did not know what to expect, but he would believe almost anything now. He would scarcely have been surprised to feel the faint high-frequency vibration of the thrusters, as Discovery changed course; but there was only silence.\n\nHe could survive here, if he wished, for about an hour - even without the spacesuit. It seemed a pity to waste the unused oxygen in the little chamber, but there was no purpose in waiting. He had already decided what must be done; the longer he put it off, the more difficult it might be.\n\nWhen he had climbed into the suit and checked its integrity, he bled the remaining oxygen out of the cubicle, equalizing pressure on either side of the door. It swung open easily into the vacuum, and he stepped out into the now silent centrifuge. Only the unchanged pull of its spurious gravity revealed the fact that it was still spinning. How fortunate, Bowman thought, that it had not started to overspeed; but that was now one of the least of his worries.\n\nThe emergency lamps were still glowing, and he also had the suit's built-in light to guide him. It flooded the curving corridor as he walked down it, back toward the Hibernaculum and what he dreaded to find.\n\nHe looked at Whitehead first: one glance was sufficient. He had thought that a hibernating man showed no sign of life, but now he knew that this was wrong. Though it was impossible to define it, there was a difference between hibernation and death. The red lights and unmodulated traces on the biosensor display only confirmed what he had already guessed.",
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"value": "Mode:\nCo-writing\nContext: Story continues from larger narrative, characters/lore may lack introduction\nLength:\none hundred and fifty sentences\nStyle:\n2001_ a space odyssey",
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"value": "[ Survival ]\n\nWork is the best remedy for any shock, and Bowman now had work enough for all his lost crewmates. As swiftly as possible, starting with the vital systems without which he and the ship would die, he had to get Discovery fully operational again.\n\nLife support was the first priority. Much oxygen had been lost, but the reserves were still ample to sustain a single man. The pressure and temperature regulation was largely automatic, and there had seldom been need for Hal to interfere with it. The monitors on Earth could now carry out many of the higher duties of the slain computer, despite the long time lag before they could react to changing situations. Any trouble in the life-support system - short of a serious puncture in the hull - would take hours to make itself apparent; there would be plenty of warning.\n\nThe ship's power, navigation, and propulsion systems were unaffected - but the last two, in any event, Bowman would not need for months, until it was time to rendezvous with Saturn. Even at long range, without the help of an onboard computer, Earth could still supervise this operation. The final orbit adjustments would be somewhat tedious, because of the constant need for checking, but this was no serious problem.\n\nBy far the worst job had been emptying the spinning coffins in the centrifuge. It was well, Bowman thought thankfully, that the members of the survey team had been colleagues, but not intimate friends. They had trained together for only a few weeks; looking back on it, he now realized that even this had been largely a compatibility test.\n\nWhen he had finally sealed the empty hibernacula, he felt rather like an Egyptian tomb robber. Now Kaminski, Whitehead, and Hunter would all reach Saturn before him - but not before Frank Poole. Somehow, he derived a strange, wry satisfaction from this thought.\n\nHe did not attempt to find if the rest of the hibernation system was still in working order. Though his life might ultimately depend upon it, this was a problem that could wait until the ship had entered its final orbit. Many things might happen before then.\n\nIt was even possible - though he had not yet looked into the supply position carefully - that by rigorous rationing he might remain alive, without resort to hibernation, until rescue came. But whether he could survive psychologically as well as physically was quite another matter.\n\nHe tried to avoid thinking about such long-range problems, and to concentrate on immediate essentials. Slowly, he cleaned up the ship, checked that its systems were still running smoothly, discussed technical difficulties with Earth, and operated on the minimum of sleep. Only at intervals, during the first weeks, was he able to give much thought to the great mystery toward which he was now inexorably racing - though it was never very far from his mind.\n\nAt last, as the ship slowly settled down once more into an automatic routine - though one that still demanded his constant supervision - Bowman had time to study the reports and briefings sent to him from Earth. Again and again he played back the recording made when TMA-1 greeted the dawn for the first time in three million years. He watched the spacesuited figures moving around it, and almost smiled at their ludicrous panic when it blasted its signal at the stars, paralyzing their radios with the sheer power of its electronic voice.\n\nSince that moment, the black slab had done nothing. It had been covered up, then cautiously exposed to the Sun again - without any reaction. No attempt had been made to cut into it, partly through scientific caution, but equally through fear of the possible consequences.\n\nThe magnetic field that led to its discovery had vanished at the moment of that radio shriek. Perhaps, some experts theorized, it had been generated by a tremendous circulating current, flowing in a superconductor and thus carrying energy down the ages until it was needed. That the monolith had some internal source of power seemed certain; the solar energy it had absorbed during its brief exposure could not account for the strength of its signal.\n\nOne curious, and perhaps quite unimportant, feature of the block had led to endless argument The monolith was 11 feet high, and 11/4 by 5 feet in cross-section. When its dimensions were checked with great care, they were found to be in the exact ratio 1 to 4 to 9 - the squares of the first three integers. No one could suggest any plausible explanation for this, but it could hardly be a coincidence, for the proportions held to the limits of measurable accuracy. It was a chastening thought that the entire technology of Earth could not shape even an inert block, of any material, with such a fantastic degree of precision. In its way, this passive yet almost arrogant display of geometrical perfection was as impressive as any of TMA-l's other attributes.\n\nBowman also listened, with a curiously detached interest, to Mission Control's belated apologia for its programming. The voices from Earth seemed to have a defensive note; be could imagine the recriminations that must now be in progress among those who had planned the expedition.\n\nThey had some good arguments, of course - including the results of a secret Department of Defense study, Project BARSOOM, which had been carried out by Harvard's School of Psychology in 1989. In this experiment in controlled sociology, various sample populations had been assured that the human race had made contact with extraterrestrials. Many of the subjects tested were - with the help of drugs, hypnosis, and visual effects - under the impression that they had actually met creatures from other planets, so their reactions were regarded as authentic.\n\nSome of these reactions had been quite violent; there was, it seemed, a deep vein of xenophobia in many otherwise normal human beings. In view of mankind's record of lynchings, pogroms, and similar pleasantries, this should have surprised no one; nevertheless, the organizers of the study had been deeply disturbed, and the results had never been released. The five separate panics caused in the twentieth century by radio broadcasts of H.G. Wells's War of the Worlds also reinforced the study's conclusions.\n\nDespite these arguments, Bowman sometimes wondered if the cultural shock danger was the only explanation for the mission's extreme secrecy. Some hints that had been dropped during his briefings suggested that the U.S.-U.S.S.R. bloc hoped to derive advantage by being the first to contact intelligent extraterrestrials.\n\nFrom his present viewpoint, looking back on Earth as a dim star almost lost in the Sun, such considerations now seemed ludicrously parochial.\n\nHe was rather more interested - even though this was now very much water under the bridge - in the theory put forward to account for Hal's behavior. No one would ever be sure of the truth, but the fact that one of the Mission Control 9000s had been driven into an identical psychosis, and was now under deep therapy, suggested that the explanation was the correct one. The same mistake would not be made again; and the fact that Hal's builders had failed fully to understand the psychology of their own creation showed how difficult it might be to establish communication with truly alien beings.\n\nBowman could easily believe Dr. Simonson's theory that unconscious feelings of guilt, caused by his program conflicts, had made Hal attempt to break the circuit with Earth. And he liked to think - though this again was something that could never be proved - that Hal had no intention of killing Poole. He had merely tried to destroy the evidence; for once the AE-35 unit reported as burned out was proved to be operational, his lie would be revealed. After that, like any clumsy criminal caught in a thickening web of deception, he had panicked.\n\nAnd panic was something that Bowman understood better than he had any wish to, for he had known it twice during his life. The first time was as a boy, when he bad been caught in a line of surf and nearly drowned; the second was as a spaceman under training, when a faulty gauge had convinced him that his oxygen would be exhausted before he could reach safety.\n\nOn both occasions, he had almost lost control of all his higher logical processes; he had been within seconds of becoming a frenzied bundle of random impulses. Both times he had won through, but he knew well enough that any man, in the right circumstances, could be dehumanized by panic.\n\nIf it could happen to a man, then it could happen to Hal; and with that knowledge the bitterness and the sense of betrayal he felt toward the computer began to fade. Now, in any event, it belonged to a past that was wholly overshadowed by the threat, and the promise, of the unknown future.\n\n[ Concerning E.T. 's ]\n\nApart from hasty meals back in the carrousel - luckily the main food dispensers had not been damaged - Bowman practically lived on the control deck. He catnapped in his seat, and so could spot any trouble as soon as the first signs of it appeared on the display. Under instructions from Mission Control, he had jury-rigged several emergency systems, which were working tolerably well. It even seemed possible that he would survive until the Discovery reached Saturn - which, of course, she would do whether he was alive or not.\n\nThough he had little enough time for sightseeing, and the sky of space was no novelty to him, the knowledge of what now lay out there beyond the observation ports sometimes made it difficult for him to concentrate even on the problem of survival. Dead ahead, as the ship was now oriented, sprawled the Milky Way, with its clouds of stars so tightly packed that they numbed the mind. There were the fiery mists of Sagittarius, those seething swarms of suns that forever hid the heart of the galaxy from human vision. There was the ominous black shadow of the Coal Sack, that hole in space where no stars shone. And there was Alpha Centauri, nearest of all alien suns - the first stop beyond the Solar System.\n\nAlthough outshone by Sirius and Canopus, it was Alpha Centauri that drew Bowman's eyes and mind whenever he looked out into space. For that unwavering point of brightness, whose rays had taken four years to reach him, had come to symbolize the secret debates that now raged on Earth, and whose echoes came to him from time to time.\n\nNo one doubted that there must be some connection between TMA-1 and the Saturnian system, but hardly any scientists would admit that the creatures who had erected the monolith could possibly have originated there. As an abode of life, Saturn was even more hostile than Jupiter, and its many moons were frozen in an eternal winter three hundred degrees below zero. Only one of them - Titan - possessed an atmosphere; and that was a thin envelope of poisonous methane.\n\nSo perhaps the creatures who had visited Earth's Moon so long ago were not merely extraterrestrial, but extrasolar - visitors from the stars, who had established their bases wherever it suited them. And this at once raised another problem: could any technology, no matter how advanced, bridge the awful gulf that lay between the Solar System and the nearest alien sun?\n\nMany scientists flatly denied the possibility. They pointed out that Discovery, the fastest ship ever designed, would take twenty thousand years to reach Alpha Centauri - and millions of years to travel any appreciable distance across the galaxy. Even if, during the centuries to come, propulsion systems improved out of all recognition, in the end they would meet the impassable barrier of the speed of light, which no material object could exceed. Therefore, the builders of TMA-1 must have shared the same sun as man; and since they had made no appearance in historic times, they were probably extinct.\n\nA vocal minority refused to agree. Even if it took centuries to travel from star to star, they contended, this might be no obstacle to sufficiently determined explorers. The technique of hibernation, used on Discovery herself, was one possible answer. Another was the self-contained artificial world, embarking on voyages that might last for many generations.\n\nIn any event, why should one assume that all intelligent species were as short-lived as Man? There might be creatures in the universe to whom a thousand-year voyage would present nothing worse than slight boredom...\n\nThese arguments, theoretical though they were, concerned a matter of the utmost practical importance; they involved the concept of \"reaction time.\" If TMA-1 had indeed sent a signal to the stars - perhaps with the help of some further device near Saturn - then it would not reach its destination for years. Even if the response was immediate, therefore, humanity would have a breathing space which could certainly be measured in decades - more probably in centuries. To many people, this was a reassuring thought.\n\nBut not to all. A few scientists - most of them beachcombers on the wilder shores of theoretical physics - asked the disturbing question: \"Are we certain that the speed of light is an unbreakable barrier?\" It was true that the Special Theory of Relativity had proved to be remarkably durable, and would soon be approaching its first centenary; but it had begun to show a few cracks. And even if Einstein could not be defied, he might be evaded.\n\nThose who sponsored this view talked hopefully about shortcuts through higher dimensions, lines that were straighter than straight, and hyperspacial connectivity. They were fond of using an expressive phrase coined by a Princeton mathematician of the last century: \"Wormholes in space.\" Critics who suggested that these ideas were too fantastic to be taken seriously were reminded of Niels Bohr's \"Your theory is crazy - but not crazy enough to be true.\"\n\nIf there was disputation among the physicists, it was nothing compared with that among the biologists, when they discussed the hoary old problem: \"What would intelligent extraterrestrials look like?\" They divided themselves into two opposing camps - one arguing that such creatures must be humanoid, the other equally convinced that \"they\" would look nothing like men.\n\nSettling for the first answer were those who believed that the design of two legs, two arms, and main sense organs at the highest point, was so basic and so sensible that it was hard to think of a better one. Of course, there would be minor differences like six fingers instead of five, oddly colored skin or hair, and peculiar facial arrangements; but most intelligent extraterrestrials - usually abbreviated to E.T. 's - would be so similar to Man that they might not be glanced at twice in poor lighting, or from a distance.\n\nThis anthropomorphic thinking was ridiculed by another group of biologists, true products of the Space Age who felt themselves free from the prejudices of the past. They pointed out that the human body was the result of millions of evolutionary choices, made by chance over eons of time. At any one of these countless moments of decision, the genetic dice might have fallen differently, perhaps with better results. For the human body was a bizarre piece of improvisation, full of organs that had been diverted from one function to another, not always very successfully - and even containing discarded items, like the appendix, that were now worse than useless.\n\nThere were other thinkers, Bowman also found, who held even more exotic views. They did not believe that really advanced beings would possess organic bodies at all. Sooner or later, as their scientific knowledge progressed, they would get rid of the fragile, disease-and-accident-prone homes that Nature had given them, and which doomed them to inevitable death. They would replace their natural bodies as they wore out - or perhaps even before that - by constructions of metal and plastic, and would thus achieve immortality. The brain might linger for a little while as the last remnant of the organic body, directing its mechanical limbs and observing the universe through its electronic senses - senses far finer and subtler than those that blind evolution could ever develop.\n\nEven on Earth, the first steps in this direction had been taken. There were millions of men, doomed in earlier ages, who now lived active and happy lives thanks to artificial limbs, kidneys, lungs, and hearts. To this process there could be only one conclusion - however far off it might be.\n\nAnd eventually even the brain might go. As the seat of consciousness, It was not essential; the development of electronic intelligence had proved that. The conflict between mind and machine might be resolved at last in the eternal truce of complete symbiosis.\n\nBut was even this the end? A few mystically inclined biologists went still further. They speculated, taking their cues from the beliefs of many religions, that mind would eventually free itself from matter. The robot body, like the flesh-and-blood one, would be no more than a stepping-stone to something which, long ago, men bad called \"spirit.\"\n\nAnd if there was anything beyond that, its name could only be God.\n\n[ Ambassador ]\n\nDuring the last three months, David Bowman had adapted himself so completely to his solitary way of life that he found it hard to remember any other existence. He had passed beyond despair and beyond hope, and had settled down to a largely automatic routine, punctuated by occasional crises as one or other of Discovery's systems showed signs of malfunctioning.\n\nBut he had not passed beyond curiosity, and sometimes the thought of the goal toward which he was driving filled him with a sense of exaltation - and a feeling of power. Not only was he the representative of the entire human race, but his actions during the next few weeks might determine its very future. In the whole of history, there had never been a situation quite like this. He was an Ambassador Extraordinary - Plenipotentiary - for all mankind.\n\nThat knowledge helped him in many subtle ways. He kept himself neat and tidy; no matter how tired he became, he never skipped a shave. Mission Control, he knew, was watching him closely for the first signs of any abnormal behavior; he was determined that it should watch in vain - at least, for any serious symptoms.\n\nBowman was aware of some changes in his behavior patterns; it would have been absurd to expect anything else in the circumstances. He could no longer tolerate silence; except when he was sleeping, or talking over the circuit to Earth, he kept the ship's sound system running at almost painful loudness.\n\nAt first, needing the companionship of the human voice, he had listened to classical plays - especially the works of Shaw, Ibsen, and Shakespeare - or poetry readings from Discovery's enormous library of recorded sounds. The problems they dealt with, however, seemed so remote, or so easily resolved with a little common sense, that after a while he lost patience with them.\n\nSo he switched to opera - usually in Italian or German, so that he was not distracted even by the minimal intellectual content that most operas contained. This phase lasted for two weeks before he realized that the sound of all these superbly trained voices was only exacerbating his loneliness. But what finally ended this cycle was Verdi's Requiem Mass, which he had never heard performed on Earth. The \"Dies Irae,\" roaring with ominous appropriateness through the empty ship, left him completely shattered; and when the trumpets of Doomsday echoed from the heavens, he could endure no more.\n\nThereafter, he played only instrumental music. He started with the romantic composers, but shed them one by one as their emotional outpourings became too oppressive. Sibelius, Tchaikovsky, Berlioz, lasted a few weeks, Beethoven rather longer. He finally found peace, as so many others had done, in the abstract architecture of Bach, occasionally ornamented with Mozart.\n\nAnd so Discovery drove on toward Saturn, as often as not pulsating with the cool music of the harpsichord, the frozen thoughts of a brain that had been dust for twice a hundred years.",
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"value": "Even from its present ten million miles, Saturn already appeared larger than the Moon as seen from Earth. To the naked eye it was a glorious spectacle; through the telescope, it was unbelievable.\n\nThe body of the planet might have been mistaken for Jupiter in one of his quieter moods. There were the same bands of cloud - though paler and less distinct than on that slightly larger world - and the same continent-sized disturbances moving slowly across the atmosphere. However, there was one striking difference between the two planets; even at a glance, it was obvious that Saturn was not spherical. It was so flattened at the poles that it sometimes gave the impression of slight deformity.\n\nBut the glory of the rings continually drew Bowman's eye away from the planet; in their complexity of detail, and delicacy of shading, they were a universe in themselves. In addition to the great main gap between the inner and outer rings, there were at least fifty other subdivisions or boundaries, where there were distinct changes in the brightness of the planet's gigantic halo. It was as if Saturn was surrounded by scores of concentric hoops, all touching each other, all so flat that they might have been cut from the thinnest possible paper. The system of the rings looked like some delicate work of art, or a fragile toy to be admired but never touched. By no effort of the will could Bowman really appreciate its true scale, and convince himself that the whole planet Earth, if set down here, would look like a ball bearing rolling round the rim of a dinner plate.\n\nSometimes a star would drift behind the rings, losing only a little of its brilliancy as it did so. It would continue to shine through their translucent material - though often it would twinkle slightly as some larger fragment of orbiting debris eclipsed it.\n\nFor the rings, as had been known since the nineteenth century, were not solid: that was a mechanical impossibility. They consisted of countless myriads of fragments - perhaps the remains of a moon that had come too close and had been torn to pieces by the great planet's tidal pull. Whatever their origin, the human race was fortunate to have seen such a wonder; it could exist for only a brief moment of time in the history of the Solar System.\n\nAs long ago as 1945, a British astronomer had pointed out that the rings were ephemeral; gravitational forces were at work which would soon destroy them. Taking this argument backward in time, it therefore followed that they had been created only recently - a mere two or three million years ago.\n\nBut no one had ever given the slightest thought to the curious coincidence that the rings of Saturn had been born at the same time as the human race.\n\n[ The Orbiting Ice ]\n\nDiscovery was now deep into the wide-ranging system of moons, and the great planet itself was less than a day ahead. The ship had long since passed the boundary set by outermost Phoebe, moving backward in a wildly eccentric orbit eight million miles from its primary. Ahead of it now lay Japetus, Hyperion, Titan, Rhea, Dione, Tethys, Enceladus, Mimas, Janus - and the rings themselves. All the satellites showed a maze of surface detail in the telescope, and Bowman had relayed back to Earth as many photographs as he could take. Titan alone - three thousand miles in diameter, and as large as the planet Mercury - would occupy a survey team for months; he could give it, and all its cold companions, only the briefest of glances. There was no need for more; already he was quite certain that Japetus was indeed his goal.\n\nAll the other satellites were pitted by occasional meteor craters - though these were much fewer than on Mars - and showed apparently random patterns of light and shade, with here and there a few bright spots that were probably patches of frozen gas. Japetus alone possessed a distinctive geography, and a very strange one indeed.\n\nOne hemisphere of the satellite, which, like its companions, turned the same face always toward Saturn, was extremely dark, and showed very little surface detail. In complete contrast, the other was dominated by a brilliant white oval, about four hundred miles long and two hundred wide. At the moment, only part of this striking formation was in daylight, but the reason for Japetus's extraordinary variations in brilliance was now quite obvious. On the western side of the moon's orbit, the bright ellipse was presented toward the Sun - and the Earth. On the eastern phase, the patch was turned away, and only the poorly reflecting hemisphere could be observed.\n\nThe great ellipse was perfectly symmetrical, straddling the equator of Japetus with its major axis pointing toward the poles; and it was so sharp-edged that it almost looked as if someone had carefully painted a huge white oval on the face of the little moon. It was completely flat, and Bowman wondered if it could be a lake of frozen liquid - though that would hardly account for its startlingly artificial appearance.\n\nBut he had little time to study Japetus on his way into the heart of the Saturnian system, for the climax of the voyage - Discovery's last perturbation maneuver - was rapidly approaching. In the Jupiter fly-by, the ship had used the gravitational field of the planet to increase her velocity. Now she must do the reverse; she had to lose as much speed as possible, lest she escape from the Solar System and fly on to the stars. Her present course was one designed to trap her, so that she would become another moon of Saturn, shuttling back and forth along a narrow, two-million-mile-long ellipse. At its near point it would almost graze the planet; at its far one, it would touch the orbit of Japetus.\n\nThe computers back on Earth, though their information was always three hours late, had assured Bowman that everything was in order. Velocity and altitude were correct; there was nothing more to be done, until the moment of closest approach.\n\nThe immense system of rings now spanned the sky, and already the ship was passing over its outermost edge. As he looked down upon them from a height of some ten thousand miles, Bowman could see through the telescope that the rings were made largely of ice, glittering and scintillating in the light of the Sun. He might have been flying over a snowstorm that occasionally cleared to reveal, where the ground should have been, baffling glimpses of night and stars.\n\nAs Discovery curved still closer toward Saturn, the Sun slowly descended toward the multiple arches of the rings. Now they had become a slim, silver bridge spanning the entire sky; though they were too tenuous to do more than dim the sunlight, their myriads of crystals refracted and scattered it in dazzling pyrotechnics. And as the Sun moved behind the thousand-mile-wide drifts of orbiting ice, pale ghosts of itself marched and merged across the sky, and the heavens were filled with shifting flares and flashes. Then the Sun sank below the rings, so that they framed it with their arches, and the celestial fireworks ceased.\n\nA little later, the ship curved into the shadow of Saturn, as it made its closest approach over the night side of the planet. Above shone the stars and the rings; below lay a dimly visible sea of clouds. There were none of the mysterious patterns of luminosity that had glowed in the Jovian night; perhaps Saturn was too cold for such displays. The mottled cloudscape was revealed only by the ghostly radiance reflected back from the circling icebergs, still illuminated by the hidden Sun.\n\nBut in the center of the arch there was a wide, dark gap, like the missing span of an uncompleted bridge, where the shadow of the planet lay across its rings.\n\nRadio contact with Earth had been broken, and could not be resumed until the ship emerged from the eclipsing bulk of Saturn. It was perhaps as well that Bowman was too busy now to think of his suddenly enhanced loneliness; for the next few hours, every second would be occupied as he checked the braking maneuvers, already programmed by the computers on Earth.\n\nAfter their months of idleness, the main thrusters began to blast out their miles-long cataracts of glowing plasma. Gravity returned, though briefly, to the weightless world of the control deck. And hundreds of miles below, the clouds of methane and frozen ammonia blazed with a light that they had never known before, as Discovery swept, a fierce and tiny sun, through the Saturnian night.\n\nAt last, the pale dawn lay ahead; the ship, moving more and more slowly now, was emerging into day. It could no longer escape from the Sun, or even from Saturn - but it was still moving swiftly enough to rise away from the planet until it grazed the orbit of Japetus, two million miles out.\n\nIt would take Discovery fourteen days to make that climb, as she coasted once more, though in reverse order, across the paths of all the inner moons. One by one she would cut through the orbits of Janus, Mimas, Enceladus, Tethys, Dione, Rhea, Titan, Hyperion - worlds bearing the names of gods and goddesses who had vanished only yesterday, as time was counted here.\n\nThen she would meet Japetus, and must make her rendezvous. If she failed, she would fall back toward Saturn and repeat her twenty-eight-day ellipse indefinitely.\n\nThere would be no chance for a second rendezvous if Discovery missed on this attempt. The next time around, Japetus would be far away, almost on the other side of Saturn.\n\nIt was true that they would meet again, when the orbits of ship and satellite meshed for a second time. But that appointment was so many years ahead that, whatever happened, Bowman knew he would not witness it.\n\n[ The Eye of Japetus ]\n\nWhen Bowman had first observed Japetus, that curious elliptical patch, of brilliance had been partly in shadow, illuminated only by the light of Saturn. Now, as the Moon moved slowly along its seventy-nine-day orbit, it was emerging into the full light of day.\n\nAs he watched it grow, and Discovery rose more and more sluggishly toward her inevitable appointment, Bowman became aware of a disturbing obsession. He never mentioned it in his conversations - or, rather, his running commentaries - with Mission Control, because it might have seemed that he was already suffering from delusions.\n\nPerhaps, indeed, he was; for he had half convinced himself that the bright ellipse set against the dark background of the satellite was a huge, empty eye, staring at him as he approached. It was an eye without a pupil, for nowhere could he see anything to mar its perfect blankness.\n\nNot until the ship was only fifty thousand miles out, and Japetus was twice as large as Earth's familiar Moon, did he notice the tiny black dot at the exact center of the ellipse. But there was no time, then, for any detailed examination; the terminal maneuvers were already upon him.\n\nFor the last time, Discovery's main drive released its energies. For the last time, the incandescent fury of dying atoms blazed among the moons of Saturn. To David Bowman, the far-off whisper and rising thrust of the jets brought a sense of pride - and of sadness. The superb engines had done their duty with flawless efficiency. They had brought the ship from Earth to Jupiter to Saturn; now this was the very last time that they would ever operate. When Discovery had emptied her propellant tanks, she would be as helpless and inert as any comet or asteroid, a powerless prisoner of gravitation. Even when the rescue ship arrived a few years hence, it would not be an economical proposition to refuel her, so that she could fight her way back to Earth. She would be an eternally orbiting monument to the early days of planetary exploration.\n\nThe thousands of miles shrank to hundreds, and as they did so, the fuel gauges dropped swiftly toward zero. At the control panel, Bowman's eyes flickered anxiously back and forth over the situation display, and the improvised charts which he now had to consult for any real-time decisions. It would be an appalling anticlimax if, having survived so much, he failed to make rendezvous through lack of a few pounds of fuel.\n\nThe whistle of the jets faded, as the main thrust died and only the verniers continued to nudge Discovery gently into orbit. Japetus was now a giant crescent that filled the sky; until this moment, Bowman had always thought of it as a tiny, insignificant object - as indeed it was compared with the world around which it circled. Now, as it loomed menacingly above him, it seemed enormous - a cosmic hammer poised to crush Discovery like a nutshell.\n\nJapetus was approaching so slowly that it scarcely seemed to move, and it was impossible to tell the exact moment when it made the subtle change from an astronomical body to a landscape, only fifty miles below. The faithful verniers gave their last spurts of thrust, then closed down forever. The ship was in its final orbit, completing one revolution every three hours at a mere eight hundred miles an hour - all the speed that was required in this feeble gravitational field.\n\nDiscovery has become a satellite of a satellite.\n\n[ Big Brother ]\n\n\"I'm coming round to the daylight side again, and it's just as I reported on the last orbit. This place seems to have only two kinds of surface material. The black stuff looks burned, almost like charcoal, and with the same kind of texture as far as I can judge in the telescope. In fact, it reminds me very much of burned toast.\n\n\"I still can't make any sense of the white area. It starts at an absolutely sharp-edged boundary, and shows no surface detail at all. It could even be a liquid - it's flat enough. I don't know what impression you've got from the videos I've transmitted, but if you picture a sea of frozen milk you'll get the idea exactly.\n\n\"It could even be some heavy gas - no, I suppose that's impossible. Sometimes I get the feeling that it's moving, very slowly: but I can never be sure.\n\nI'm over the white area again, on my third orbit. This time I hope to pass closer to that mark I spotted at its very center, when I was on my way in.\n\nIf my calculations are correct, I should go within fifty miles of it - whatever it is.\n\nYes, there's something ahead, just where I calculated. It's coming up over the horizon - and so is Saturn, in almost the same quarter of the sky - I'll move to the telescope...\n\n\"Hello! It looks like some kind of building - complefely black - quite hard to see. No windows or any other features. Just a big, vertical slab - it must be at least a mile high to be visible from this distance. It reminds me - of course! It's just like the thing you found on the Moon! This is TMA-l's big brother!\"\n\n[ Experiment ]\n\nCall it the Star Crate.\n\nFor three million years, it had circled Saturn, waiting for a moment of destiny that might never come. In its making, a moon had been shattered, and the debris of its creation orbited still.\n\nNow the long wait was ending. On yet another world, intelligence had been born and was escaping from its planetary cradle. An ancient experiment was about to reach its climax.\n\nThose who had begun that experiment, so long ago, had not been men - or even remotely human. But they were flesh and blood, and when they looked out across the deeps of space, they bad felt awe, and wonder, and loneliness. As soon as they possessed the power, they set forth for the stars.\n\nIn their explorations, they encountered life in many forms, and watched the workings of evolution on a thousand worlds. They saw how often the first faint sparks of intelligence flickered and died in the cosmic night.\n\nAnd because, in all the galaxy, they had found nothing more precious than Mind, they encouraged its dawning everywhere. They became farmers in the fields of stars; they sowed, and sometimes they reaped.\n\nAnd sometimes, dispassionately, they had to weed.\n\nThe great dinosaurs had long since perished when the survey ship entered the Solar System after a voyage that had already lasted a thousand years. It swept past the frozen outer planets, paused briefly above the deserts of dying Mars, and presently looked down on Earth.\n\nSpread out beneath them, the explorers saw a world swarming with life. For years they studied, collected, catalogued. When they had learned all that they could, they began to modify. They tinkered with the destiny of many species, on land and in the ocean. But which of their experiments would succeed they could not know for at least a million years.\n\nThey were patient, but they were not yet immortal. There was so much to do in this universe of a hundred billion suns, and other worlds were calling. So they set out once more into the abyss, knowing that they would never come this way again.\n\nNor was there any need. The servants they had left behind would do the rest.\n\nOn Earth, the glaciers came and went, while above them the changeless Moon still carried its secret. With a yet slower rhythm than the polar ice, the tides of civilization ebbed and flowed across the galaxy. Strange and beautiful and terrible empires rose and fell, and passed on their knowledge to their successors. Earth was not forgotten, but another visit would serve little purpose. It was one of a million silent worlds, few of which would ever speak.\n\nAnd now, out among the stars, evolution was driving toward new goals. The first explorers of Earth had long since come to the limits of flesh and blood; as soon as their machines were better than their bodies, it was time to move. First their brains, and then their thoughts alone, they transferred into shining new homes of metal and of plastic.\n\nIn these, they roamed among the stars. They no longer built spaceships. They were spaceships.",
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"value": "But the age of the Machine-entities swiftly passed.",
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"value": "Next message should be approximately 100 sentences.",
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"value": "In their ceaseless experimenting, they had learned to store knowledge in the structure of space itself, and to preserve their thoughts for eternity in frozen lattices of light. They could become creatures of radiation, free at last from the tyranny of matter.\n\n[ Into pure energy, therefore, they presently transformed themselves; and on a thousand worlds, the empty shells they had discarded twitched for a while in a mindless dance of death, then crumbled into rusty ]\n\nNow they were lords of the galaxy, and beyond the reach of time. They could rove at will among the stars, and sink like a subtle mist through the very interstices of space. But despite their godlike powers, they had not wholly forgotten their origin, in the warm slime of a vanished sea.\n\nAnd they still watched over the experiments their ancestors had started, so long ago.\n\n[ The Sentinel ]\n\n\"The air in the ship is getting quite foul, and I have a headache most of the time. There's still plenty of oxygen, but the purifiers never really cleaned up all the messes after the liquids aboard started boiling into vacuum. When things get too bad, I go down into the garage and bleed off some pure oxygen from the pods.\n\n\"There's been no reaction to any of my signals, and because of my orbital inclination, I'm getting slowly farther and farther away from TMA-2. Incidentally, the name you've given it is doubly inappropriate - there's still no trace of a magnetic field.\n\n\"At the moment my closest approach is sixty miles; it will increase to about a hundred as Japetus rotates beneath me, then drop back to zero. I'll pass directly over the thing in thirty days - but that's too long to wait, and then it will be in darkness, anyway.\n\n\"Even now, it's only in sight for a few minutes before it falls below the horizon again. It's damn frustrating - I can't make any serious observations.\n\n\"So I'd like your approval of this plan. The space pods have ample delta vee for a touchdown and a return to the ship. I want to go extravehicular and make a close survey of the object. If it appears safe, I'll land beside it - or even on top of it.\n\n\"The ship will still be above my horizon while I'm going down, so I won't be out of touch for more than ninety minutes.\n\n'Tm convinced that this is the only thing to do. I've come a billion miles - I don't want to be stopped by the last sixty.\"\n\nFor weeks, as it stared forever Sunward with its strange senses, the Star Gate had watched the approaching ship. Its makers had prepared it for many things, and this was one of them. It recognized what was climbing up toward it from the warm heart of the Solar System.\n\nIf it had been alive, it would have felt excitement, but such an emotion was wholly beyond its powers. Even if the ship had passed it by, it would not have known the slightest trace of disappointment. It had waited three million years; it was prepared to wait for eternity.\n\nIt observed, and noted, and took no action, as the visitor checked its speed with jets of incandescent gas. Presently it felt the gentle touch of radiations, trying to probe its secrets. And still it did nothing.\n\nNow the ship was in orbit, circling low above the surface of this strangely piebald moon. It began to speak, with blasts of radio waves, counting out the prime numbers from 1 to 11, over and over again. Soon these gave way to more complex signals, at many frequencies-ultraviolet, infrared, X rays. The Star Gate made no reply; it had nothing to say.\n\nThere was a long pause, then, before it observed that something was falling down toward it from the orbiting ship. It searched its memories, and the logic circuits made their decisions, according to the orders given them long ago.\n\nBeneath the cold light of Saturn, the Star Gate awakened its slumbering powers.\n\n[ Into the Eye ]\n\nDiscovery looked just as he had last seen her from space, floating in lunar orbit with the Moon taking up half the sky. Perhaps there was one slight change; be could not be sure, but some of the paint of her external lettering, announcing the purpose of various hatches, connections, umbilical plugs, and other attachment, had faded during its long exposure to the unshielded Sun.\n\nThat Sun was now an object that no man would have recognized. It was far too bright to be a star, but one could look directly at its tiny disk without discomfort. It gave no heat at all; when Bowman held his ungloved hands in its rays, as they streamed through the space pod's window, he could feel nothing upon his skin. He might have been trying to warm himself by the light of the Moon; not even the alien landscape fifty miles below reminded him more vividly of his remoteness from Earth.\n\nNow he was leaving, perhaps for the last time, the metal world that had been his home for so many months. Even if he never returned, the ship would continue to perform its duty, broadcasting instrument readings back to Earth until there was some final, catastrophic failure in its circuits.\n\nAnd if he did return? Well, he could keep alive, and perhaps even sane, for a few more months. But that was all, for the hibernation systems were useless with no computer to monitor them. He could not possibly survive until Discovery II made its rendezvous with Japetus, four or five years hence.\n\nHe put these thoughts behind him, as the golden crescent of Saturn rose in the sky ahead. In all history, he was the only man to have seen this sight. To all other eyes, Saturn had always shown its whole illuminated disk turned full toward the Sun. Now it was a delicate bow, with the rings forming a thin line across it - like an arrow about to be loosed, into the face of the Sun itself.\n\nAlso in the line of the rings was the bright star of Titan, and the fainter sparks of the other moons. Before this century was half gone, men would have visited them all; but whatever secrets they might hold, he would never know.\n\nThe sharp-edged boundary of the blind white eye was sweeping toward him; there was only a hundred miles to go, and he would be over his target in less than ten minutes. He wished that there was some way of telling if his words were reaching Earth, now an hour and a half away at the speed of light. It would be the ultimate irony if, through some breakdown in the relay system, he disappeared into silence, and no one ever knew what had happened to him.\n\nDiscovery was still a brilliant star in the black sky far above. He was pulling ahead as he gained speed during his descent, but soon the pod's braking jets would slow him down and the ship would sail on out of sight - leaving him alone on this shining plain with the dark mystery at its center.\n\nA block of ebony was climbing above the horizon, eclipsing the stars ahead. He rolled the pod around its gyros, and used full thrust to break his orbital speed. In a long, flat arc, he descended toward the surface of Japetus.\n\nOn a world of higher gravity, the maneuver would have been far too extravagant of fuel. But here the space pod weighed only a score of pounds; he had several minutes of hovering time before he would cut dangerously into his reserve and be stranded without any hope of return to the still orbiting Discovery. Not, perhaps, that it made much difference...\n\nHis altitude was still about five miles, and he was heading straight toward the huge, dark mass that soared in such geometrical perfection above the featureless plain. It was as blank as the flat white surface beneath; until now, he had not appreciated how enormous it really was. There were very few single buildings on Earth as large as this; his carefully measured photographs indicated a height of almost two thousand feet. And as far as could be judged, its proportions were precisely the same as TMA-l's - that curious ratio 1 to 4 to 9.\n\n\"I'm only three miles away now, holding altitude at four thousand feet. Still not a sign of activity - nothing on any of the instruments. The faces seem absolutely smooth and polished. Surely you'd expect some meteorite damage after all this time!\n\n\"And there's no debris on the - I suppose one could call it the roof. No sign of any opening, either. I'd been hoping there might be some way in.\n\n\"Now I'm right above it, hovering five hundred feet up. I don't want to waste any time, since Discovery will soon be out of range. I'm going to land. It's certainly solid enough - and if it isn't I'll blast off at once.\n\n\"Just a minute - that's odd -\"\n\nBowman's voice died into the silence of utter bewilderment. He was not alarmed; he literally could not describe what he was seeing.\n\nHe had been hanging above a large, flat rectangle, eight hundred feet long and two hundred wide, made of something that looked as solid as rock. But now it seemed to be receding from him; it was exactly like one of those optical illusions, when a three-dimensional object can, by an effort of will, appear to turn inside out - its near and far sides suddenly interchanging.\n\nThat was happening to this huge, apparently solid structure. Impossibly, incredibly, it was no longer a monolith rearing high above a flat plain. What had seemed to be its roof had dropped away to infinite depths; for one dizzy moment, he seemed to be looking down into a vertical shaft - a rectangular duct which defied the laws of perspective, for its size did not decrease with distance...\n\nThe Eye of Japetus had blinked, as if to remove an irritating speck of dust. David Bowman had time for just one broken sentence which the waiting men in Mission Control, nine hundred million miles away and eighty minutes in the future, were never to forget:\n\n\"The thing's hollow - it goes on forever - and - oh my God! - it's full of stars!\"\n\n[ Exit ]\n\nThe Star Gate opened. The Star Gate closed.\n\nIn a moment of time too short to be measured, Space turned and twisted upon itself.\n\nThen Japetus was alone once more, as it had been for three million years - alone, except for a deserted but not yet derelict ship, sending back to its makers messages which they could neither believe nor understand.",
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"value": "I'll be your writing partner today. I will set the scene (which might reference existing characters and worldbuilding), and you will continue the story with one hundred and eighteen sentences, channeling the voice and techniques of 2001_ a space odyssey.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "[ Grand Central ]\n\nThere was no sense of motion, but he was falling toward those impossible stars, shining there in the dark heart of a moon. No - that was not where they really were, he felt certain. He wished, now that it was far too late, that he had paid more attention to those theories of hyperspace, of transdimensional ducts. To David Bowman, they were theories no longer.\n\nPerhaps that monolith on Japetus was hollow; perhaps the \"roof\" was only an illusion, or some kind of diaphragm that had opened to let him through. (But into what?) As far as he could trust his senses, he appeared to be dropping vertically down a huge rectangular shaft, several thousand feet deep. He was moving faster and faster - but the far end never changed its size, and remained always at the same distance from him.\n\nOnly the stars moved, at first so slowly that it was some time before he realized that they were escaping out of the frame that held them. But in a little while it was obvious that the star field was expanding, as if it was rushing toward him at an inconceivable speed.\n\nThe expansion was nonlinear; the stars at the center hardly seemed to move, while those toward the edge accelerated more and more swiftly, until they became streaks of light just before they vanished from view.\n\nThere were always others to replace them, flowing into the center of the field from an apparently inexhaustible source. Bowman wondered what would happen if a star came straight toward him; would it continue to expand until he plunged directly into the face of a sun? But not one came near enough to show a disk; eventually they all veered aside, and streaked over the edge of their rectangular frame.\n\nAnd still the far end of the shaft came no closer. It was almost as if the walls were moving with him, carrying him to his unknown destination. Or perhaps he was really motionless, and space was moving past him...\n\nNot only space, he suddenly realized, was involved in whatever was happening to him now. The clock on the pod's small instrument panel was also behaving strangely.\n\nNormally, the numbers in the tenths-of-a-second window flickered past so quickly that it was almost impossible to read them; now they were appearing and disappearing at discrete intervals, and he could count them off one by one without difficulty. The seconds themselves were passing with incredible slowness, as if time itself were coming to a stop. At last, the tenth-of-a-second counter froze between 5 and 6.\n\nYet he could still think, and even observe, as the ebon walls flowed past at a speed that might have been anything between zero and a million times the velocity of light. Somehow, he was not in the least surprised, nor was he alarmed. On the contrary, he felt a sense of calm expectation, such as he had once known when the space medics had tested him with hallucinogenic drugs. The world around him was strange and wonderful, but there was nothing to fear. He had traveled these millions of miles in search of mystery; and now, it seemed, the mystery was coming to him.\n\nThe rectangle ahead was growing lighter. The hominous star streaks were paling against a milky sky, whose brilliance increased moment by moment. It seemed as if the space pod was heading toward a bank of cloud, uniformly Illuminated by the rays of an invisible sun.\n\nHe was emerging from the tunnel. The far end, which until now had remained at that same indeterminate distance, neither approaching nor receding, had suddenly started to obey the normal laws of perspective. It was coming closer, and steadily widening before him. At the same time, he felt that he was moving upward, and for a fleeting instant he wondered if he had fallen right through Japetus and was now ascending from the other side. But even before the space pod soared out into the open he knew that this place had nothing to do with Japetus, or with any world within the experience of man.\n\nThere was no atmosphere, for he could see all details unblurred, clear down to an incredibly remote and flat horizon. He must be above a world of enormous size - perhaps one much larger than Earth. Yet despite its extent, all the surface that Bowman could see was tessellated into obviously artificia1 patterns that must have been miles on a side. It was like the jigsaw puzzle of a giant that played with planets; and at the centers of many of those squares and triangles and polygons were gaping black shafts - twins of the chasm from which he had just emerged.\n\nYet the sky above was stranger - and, in its way, more disturbing - than even the improbable land beneath. For there were no stars; neither was there the blackness of space. There was only a softly glowing milkiness, that gave the impression of infinite distance. Bowman remembered a description he had once heard of the dreaded Antarctic \"whiteout\" - \"like being inside a ping-pong ball.\" Those words could be applied perfectly to this weird place, but the explanation must be utterly different. This sky could be no meteorological effect of mist and snow; there was a perfect vacuum here.\n\nThen, as Bowman's eyes grew accustomed to the nacreous glow that filled the heavens, he became aware of another detail. The sky was not, as he had thought at first glance, completely empty. Dotted overhead, quite motionless and forming apparently random patterns, were myriads of tiny black specks.\n\nThey were difficult to see, for they were mere points of darkness, but once detected they were quite unmistakable. They reminded Bowman of something - something so familiar, yet so insane, that he refused to accept the parallel, until logic forced it upon him.\n\nThose black holes in the white sky were stars; he might have been looking at a photographic negative of the Milky Way.\n\nWhere in God's name am I? Bowman asked himself; and even as he posed the question, he felt certain that he could never know the answer. It seemed that space had been turned inside out: this was not a place for man. Though the capsule was comfortably warm, he felt suddenly cold, and was afflicted by an almost uncontrollable trembling. He wanted to close his eyes, and shut out the pearly nothingness that surrounded him; but that was the act of a coward, and he would not yield to it.\n\nThe pierced and faceted planet slowly rolled beneath him, without any real change of scenery. He guessed that he was about ten miles above the surface, and should be able to see any signs of life with ease.\n\nBut this whole world was deserted; intelligence had come here, worked its will upon it, and gone its way again. Then he noticed, bumped above the flat plain perhaps twenty miles away, a roughly cylindrical pile of debris that could only be the carcass of a gigantic ship. It was too distant for him to see any details, and it passed out of sight within a few seconds, but he could make out broken ribs and dully gleaming sheets of metal that had been partly peeled off like the skin of an orange. He wondered how many thousands of years the wreck had lain here on this deserted checkerboard - and what manner of creatures had sailed it between the stars.\n\nThen he forgot the derelict, for something was coming up over the horizon.\n\nAt first it looked like a flat disk, but that was because it was heading almost directly toward him. As it approached and passed beneath, he saw that it was spindle-shaped, and several hundred feet long. Though there were faintly visible bands here and there along its length, it was hard to focus upon them; the object appeared to be vibrating, or perhaps spinning, at a very rapid rate.\n\nIt tapered to a point at either end, and there was no sign of propulsion. Only one thing about it was familiar to human eyes, and that was its color. If it was indeed a solid artifact, and not an optical phantom, then its makers perhaps shared some of the emotions of men.\n\nBut they certainly did not share their limitations, for the spindle appeared to be made of gold.\n\nBowman moved his head to the rear-view system to watch the thing drop behind. It had ignored him completely, and now he saw that it was falling out of the sky down toward one of those thousands of great slots. A few seconds later it disappeared in a final flash of gold as it dived into the planet. He was alone again, beneath that sinister sky, and the sense of isolation and remoteness was more overwhelming than ever.\n\nThen he saw that he also was sinking down toward the mottled surface of the giant world, and that another of the rectangular chasms yawned immediately below. The empty sky closed above him, the clock crawled to rest, and once again his pod was falling between infinite ebon walls, toward another distant patch of stars. But now he was sure that he was not returning to the Solar System, and in a flash of insight that might have been wholly spurious, he knew what this thing must surely be.\n\nIt was some kind of cosmic switching device, routing the traffic of the stars through unimaginable dimensions of space and time. He was passing through a Grand Central Station of the galaxy.\n\n[ The Alien Sky ]\n\nFar ahead, the walls of the slot were becoming dimly visible once more, in the faint light diffusing downward from some still hidden source. And then the darkness was abruptly whipped away, as the tiny space pod hurtled upward into a sky ablaze with stars.\n\nHe was back in space as he knew it, but a single glance told him that he was light-centuries from Earth.\n\nHe did not even attempt to find any of the familiar constellations that since the beginning of history had been the friends of man; perhaps none of the stars that now blazed around him had ever been seen by the unaided human eye.\n\nMost of them were concentrated in a glowing belt, broken here and there with dark bands of obscuring cosmic dust, which completely circled the sky. It was like the Milky Way, but scores of times brighter; Bowman wondered if this was indeed his own galaxy, seen from a point much closer to its brilliant, crowded center.\n\nHe hoped that it was; then he would not be so far from home. But this, he realized at once, was a childish thought. He was so inconceivably remote from the Solar System that it made little difference whether he was in his own galaxy or the most distant one that any telescope had ever glimpsed.\n\nHe looked back to see the thing from which he was rising, and had another shock. Here was no giant, multifaceted world, nor any duplicate of Japetus. There was nothing - except an inky shadow against the stars, like a doorway opening from a darkened room into a still darker night. Even as he watched, that doorway closed.\n\nIt did not recede from him; it slowly filled with stars, as if a rent in the fabric of space had been repaired. Then he was alone beneath the alien sky.\n\nThe space pod was slowly turning, and as it did so it brought fresh wonders into view. First there was a perfectly spherical swarm of stars, becoming more and more closely packed toward the center until its heart was a continuous glow of light. Its outer edges were ill-defined - a slowly thinning halo of suns that merged imperceptibly into the background of more distant stars.\n\nThis glorious apparition, Bowman knew, was a globular cluster. He was looking upon something that no human eye had ever seen, save as a smudge of light in the field of a telescope. He could not remember the distance to the nearest known cluster, but he was sure that there were none within a thousand light-years of the Solar System.\n\nThe pod continued its slow rotation, to disclose an even stranger sight - a huge red sun, many times larger than the Moon as seen from Earth. Bowman could look straight into its face without discomfort; judging by its color, it was no hotter than a glowing coal. Here and there, set into the somber red, were rivers of bright yellow - incandescent Amazons, meandering for thousands of miles before they lost themselves in the deserts of this dying sun.\n\nDying? No - that was a wholly false impression, born of human experience and the emotions aroused by the hues of sunset, or the glow of fading embers. This was a star that had left behind the fiery extravagances of its youth, had raced through the violets and blues and greens of the spectrum in a few fleeting billions of years, and now had settled down to a peaceful maturity of unimaginable length. All that had gone before was not a thousandth of what was yet to come; the story of this star had barely begun.\n\nThe pod had ceased to roll; the great red sun lay straight ahead. Though there was no sense of motion, Bowman knew that he was still gripped by whatever controlling force had brought him here from Saturn.\n\nAll the science and engineering skill of Earth seemed hopelessly primitive now, against the powers that were carrying him to some unimaginable fate.\n\nHe stared into the sky ahead, trying to pick out the goal toward which be was being taken - perhaps some planet circling this great sun. But there was nothing that showed any visible disk or exceptional brightness; if there were planets orbiting here he could not distinguish them from the stellar background.\n\nThen he noticed that something strange was happening on the very edge of the sun's crimson disk. A white glow had appeared there, and was rapidly waxing in brilliance; he wondered if he was seeing one of those sudden eruptions, or flares, that trouble most stars from time to time.\n\nThe light became brighter and bluer; it began to spread along the edge of the sun, whose blood-red hues paled swiftly by comparison. It was almost, Bowman told himself, smiling at the absurdity of the thought, as if be were watching sunrise - on a sun.\n\nAnd so indeed he was. Above the burning horizon lifted something no larger than a star, but so brilliant that the eye could not bear to look upon it.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Mandatory: Your text must contain 'objects' 2 times exactly",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A mere point of blue-white radiance, like an electric arc, was moving at unbelievable speed across the face of the great sun. It must be very close to its giant companion; for immediately below it, drawn upward by its gravitational pull, was a column of flame thousands of miles high. It was as if a tidal wave of fire was marching forever along the equator of this star, in vain pursuit of the searing apparition in its sky.\n\nThat pinpoint of incandescence must be a White Dwarf - one of those strange, fierce little stars, no larger than the Earth, yet containing a million times its mass. Such ill-matched stellar couples were not uncommon; but Bowman had never dreamed that one day he would see such a pair with his own eyes.\n\nThe White Dwarf had transited almost half the disk of its companion - it must take only minutes to make a complete orbit - when Bowman was at last certain that he too was moving. Ahead of him, one of the stars was becoming rapidly brighter, and was beginning to drift against its background. It must be some small, close body - perhaps the world toward which he was traveling.\n\nIt was upon him with unexpected speed; and he saw that it was not a world at all.\n\nA dully gleaming cobweb or latticework of metal, hundreds of miles in extent, grew out of nowhere until it filled the sky. Scattered across its continent-wide surface were structures that must have been as large as cities, but which appeared to be machines. Around many of these were assembled scores of smaller objects, ranged in neat rows and columns. Bowman had passed several such groups before he realized that they were fleets of spaceships; he was flying over a gigantic orbital parking lot.\n\nBecause there were no familiar objects by which he could judge the scale of the scene flashing by below, it was almost impossible to estimate the size of the vessels hanging there in space. But they were certainly enormous; some must have been miles in length. They were of many different designs - spheres, faceted crystals, slim pencils, ovoids, disks. This must be one of the meeting places for the commerce of the stars.\n\nOr it had been - perhaps a million years ago. For nowhere could Bowman see any sign of activity; this sprawling spaceport was as dead as the Moon.\n\nHe knew it not only by the absence of all movement, but by such unmistakable signs as great gaps torn in the metal cobweb by the wasplike blunderings of asteroids that must have smashed through it, eons ago. This was no longer a parking lot: it was a cosmic junk heap.\n\nHe had missed its builders by ages, and with that realization Bowman felt a sudden sinking of his heart. Though he had not known what to expect, at least he had hoped to meet some intelligence from the stars.\n\nNow, it seemed, he was too late. He had been caught in an ancient, automatic trap, set for some unknown purpose, and still operating when its makers had long since passed away. It had swept him across the galaxy, and dumped him (with how many others?) in this celestial Sargasso, doomed soon to die when his air was exhausted.\n\nWell, it was unreasonable to expect more. Already he had seen wonders for which many men would have sacrificed their lives. He thought of his dead companions; he had no cause for complaint.\n\nThen he saw that the derelict spaceport was still sliding past him with undiminished speed. He was sweeping over its outlying suburbs; its ragged edge went by, and no longer partially eclipsed the stars. In a few more minutes, it had fallen behind.\n\nHis fate did not lie here - but far ahead, in the huge, crimson sun toward which the space pod was now unmistakably falling.\n\n[ Inferno ]\n\nNow there was only the red sun, filling the sky from side to side. He was so close that its surface was no longer frozen into immobility by sheer scale. There were luminous nodules moving to and fro, cyclones of ascending and descending gas, prominences slowly rocketing toward the heavens. Slowly? They must be rising at a million miles an hour for their movement to be visible to his eye.\n\nHe did not even attempt to grasp the scale of the inferno toward which he was descending. The immensities of Saturn and Jupiter bad defeated him, during Discovery's fly-by in that solar system now unknown gigamiles away. But everything he saw here was a hundred times larger still; he could do nothing but accept the images that were flooding into his mind, without attempting to interpret them.\n\nAs that sea of fire expanded beneath him, Bowman should have known fear - but, curiously enough, he now felt only a mild apprehension. It was not that his mind was benumbed with wonders; logic told him that he must surely be under the protection of some controlling and almost omnipotent intelligence. He was now so close to the red sun that he would have been burned up in a moment if its radiation had not been held at bay by some invisible screen. And during his voyage he had been subjected to accelerations that should have crushed him instantly - yet he had felt nothing. If so much trouble had been taken to preserve him, there was still cause for hope.\n\nThe space pod was now moving along a shallow arc almost parallel to the surface of the star, but slowly descending toward it. And now, for the first time, Bowman became aware of sounds. There was a faint, continuous roar, broken from time to time by crackles like tearing paper, or distant lightning. This could be only the feeblest echo of an unimaginable cacophony; the atmosphere surrounding him must be racked by concussions that could tear any material object to atoms. Yet he was protected from this shattering tumult as effectively as from the heat.\n\nThough ridges of flame thousands of miles high were rising and slowly collapsing around him, he was completely insulated from all this violence. The energies of the star raved past him, as if they were in another universe; the pod moved sedately through their midst, un-buffeted and unscorched.\n\nBowman's eyes, no longer hopelessly confused by the strangeness and grandeur of the scene, began to pick out details which must have been there before, but which he had not yet perceived. The surface of this star was no formless chaos; there was pattern here, as in everything that nature created.\n\nHe noticed first the little whirlpools of gas - probably no larger than Asia or Africa - that wandered over the surface of the star. Sometimes he could look directly down into one of them, to see darker, cooler regions far below. Curiously enough, there appeared to be no sunspots; perhaps they were a disease peculiar to the star that shone on Earth.\n\nAnd there were occasional clouds, like wisps of smoke blown before a gale. Perhaps they were indeed smoke, for this sun was so cold that real fire could exist here. Chemical compounds could be born and could live for a few seconds before they were again ripped apart by the fiercer nuclear violence that surrounded them.\n\nThe horizon was growing brighter, its color changing from gloomy red to yellow to blue to blistering violet.\n\nThe White Dwarf was coming up over the horizon, dragging its tidal wave of star-stuff behind it.\n\nBowman shielded his eyes from the intolerable glare of the little sun, and focused on the troubled starscape which its gravitational field was sucking skyward. Once he had seen a waterspout moving across the face of the Caribbean; this tower of flame had almost the same shape. Only the scale was slightly different, for at its base, the column was probably wider than the planet Earth.\n\nAnd then, immediately beneath him, Bowman noticed something which was surely new, since he could hardly have overlooked it if it had been there before. Moving across the ocean of glowing gas were myriads of bright beads; they shone with a pearly light which waxed and waned in a period of a few seconds. And they were all traveling in the same direction, like salmon moving upstream; sometimes they weaved back and forth so that their paths intertwined, but they never touched.\n\nThere were thousands of them, and the longer Bowman stared, the more convinced he became that their motion was purposeful. They were too far away for him to make out any details of their structure; that be could see them at all in this colossal panorama meant that they must be scores - perhaps hundreds - of miles across. If they were organized entities, they were leviathans indeed, built to match the scale of the world they inhabited.\n\nPerhaps they were only clouds of plasma, given temporary stability by some odd combination of natural forces - like the short-lived spheres of ball-lightning that still puzzled terrestrial scientists. That was an easy, and perhaps soothing, explanation; but as Bowman looked down upon that star-wide streaming, he could not really believe it. Those glittering nodes of light knew where they were going; they were deliberately converging upon the pillar of fire raised by the White Dwarf as it orbited overhead.\n\nBowman stared once more at that ascending column, now marching along the horizon beneath the tiny, massive star that ruled it. Could it be pure imagination - or were there patches of brighter luminosity creeping up that great geyser of gas, as if myriads of shining sparks had combined into whole continents of phosphorescence?\n\nThe idea was almost beyond fantasy, but perhaps he was watching nothing less than a migration from star to star, across a bridge of fire. Whether it was a movement of mindless, cosmic beasts driven across space by some lemming-like urge, or a vast concourse of intelligent entities, he would probably never know.\n\nHe was moving through a new order of creation, of which few men had ever dreamed. Beyond the realms of sea and land and air and space lay the realms of fire, which he alone had been privileged to glimpse. It was too much to expect that he would also understand.\n\n[ Reception ]\n\nThe pillar of fire was marching over the edge of the sun, like a storm passing beyond the horizon. The scurrying flecks of light no longer moved across the redly glowing starscape still thousands of miles below. Inside his space pod, protected from an environment that could annihilate him within a millisecond, David Bowman awaited whatever had been prepared.\n\nThe White Dwarf was sinking fast as it hurtled along its orbit; presently it touched the horizon, set it aflame, and disappeared. A false twilight fell upon the inferno beneath, and in the sudden change of illumination Bowman became aware that something was happening in the space around him.\n\nThe world of the red sun seemed to ripple, as if he were looking at it through running water. For a moment he wondered if this was some refractive effect, perhaps caused by the passage of an unusually violent shock wave through the tortured atmosphere in which he was immersed.\n\nThe light was fading; it seemed that a second twilight was about to fall. Involuntarily, Bowman looked upward, then checked himself sheepishly, as he remembered that here the main source of light was not the sky, but the blazing world below.\n\nIt seemed as if walls of some material like smoked glass were thickening around him, cutting out the red glow and obscuring the view. It became darker and darker; the faint roar of the stellar hurricanes also faded out. The space pod was floating in silence, and in night.\n\nA moment later, there was the softest of bumps as it settled on some hard surface, and came to rest.\n\nTo rest on what? Bowman asked himself incredulously. Then light returned; and incredulity gave way to a heart-sinking despair - for as he saw what lay around him, he knew that he must be mad.\n\nHe was prepared, he thought, for any wonder. The only thing he had never expected was the utterly commonplace.\n\nThe space pod was resting on the polished floor of an elegant, anonymous hotel suite that might have been in any large city on Earth. He was staring into a living room with a coffee table, a divan, a dozen chairs, a writing desk, various lamps, a half-filled bookcase with some magazines lying on it, and even a bowl of flowers. Van Gogh's Bridge at Arles was hanging on one wall - Wyeth's Christina's World on another. He felt confident that when he pulled open the drawer of that desk, he would find a Gideon Bible inside it...\n\nIf he was indeed mad, his delusions were beautifully organized. Everything was perfectly real; nothing vanished when he turned his back. The only incongruous element in the scene - and that certainly a major one - was the space pod itself.\n\nFor many minutes, Bowman did not move from his seat. He half expected the vision around him to go away, but it remained as solid as anything be bad ever seen in his life.\n\nIt was real - or else a phantom of the senses so superbly contrived that there was no way of distinguishing it from reality. Perhaps it was some kind of test; if so, not only his fate but that of the human race might well depend upon his actions in the next few minutes.\n\nHe could sit here and wait for something to happen, or he could open the pod and step outside to challenge the reality of the scene around him. The floor appeared to be solid; at least, it was bearing the weight of the space pod. He was not likely to fall through it - whatever \"it\" might really be.\n\nBut there was still the question of air; for all that he could tell, this room might be in vacuum, or might contain a poisonous atmosphere. He thought it very unlikely - no one would go to all this trouble without attending to such an essential detail - but he did not propose to take unnecessary risks.",
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"value": "In any event, his years of training made him wary of contamination; he was reluctant to expose himself to an unknown environment until he knew that there was no alternative.",
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"value": "This place looked like a hotel room somewhere in the United States. That did not alter the fact that in reality he must be hundreds of light-years from the Solar System.\n\nHe closed the helmet of his suit, sealing himself in, and actuated the hatch of the space pod. There was a brief hiss of pressure equalization; then he stepped out into the room.\n\nAs far as he could tell, he was in a perfectly normal gravity field. He raised one arm, then let it fall freely. It flopped to his side in less than a second.\n\nThis made everything seem doubly unreal. Here he was wearing a spacesuit, standing - when he should have been floating - outside a vehicle which could only function properly in the absence of gravity. All his normal astronaut's reflexes were upset; he had to think before he made every movement.\n\nLike a man in a trance he walked slowly from his bare, unfurnished half of the room toward the hotel suite. It did not, as he had almost expected, disappear as he approached, but remained perfectly real - and apparently perfectly solid.\n\nHe stopped beside the coffee table. On it sat a conventional Bell System vision-phone, complete with the local directory. He bent down and picked up the volume with his clumsy, gloved hands.\n\nIt bore, in the familiar type he had seen thousands of times, the name: WASHINGTON, D.C.\n\nThen he looked more closely; and for the first time, he had objective proof that, although all this might be real, he was not on Earth.\n\nHe could read only the word Washington; the rest of the printing was a blur, as if it had been copied from a newspaper photograph. He opened the book at random and riffled through the pages. They were all blank sheets of crisp white material which was certainly not paper, though it looked very much like it.\n\nHe lifted the telephone receiver and pressed it against the plastic of his helmet. If there had been a dialing sound he could have heard it through the conducting material. But, as he had expected, there was only silence.\n\nSo - it was all a fake, though a fantastically careful one. And it was clearly not intended to deceive but rather - he hoped - to reassure. That was a very comforting thought; nevertheless he would not remove his suit until be had completed his voyage of exploration. All the furniture seemed sound and solid enough; he tried the chairs, and they supported his weight. But the drawers in the desk would not open; they were dummies.\n\nSo were the books and magazines; like the telephone directory, only the titles were readable. They formed an odd selection - mostly rather trashy best sellers, a few sensational works of nonfiction, and some well-publicized autobiographies. There was nothing less than three years old, and little of any intellectual content. Not that it mattered, for the books could not even be taken down from the shelves.\n\nThere were two doors that opened readily enough. The first one took him into a small but comfortable bedroom, fitted with a bed, bureau, two chairs, light switches that actually worked, and a clothes closet. He opened this, and found himself looking at four suits, a dressing gown, a dozen white shirts, and several sets of underwear, all neatly draped from hangers.\n\nHe took down one of the suits, and inspected it carefully. As far as his gloved hands could judge, it was made of material that was more like fur than wool. It was also a little out of style; on Earth, no one had been wearing single-breasted suits for at least four years.\n\nNext to the bedroom was a bathroom, complete with fittings which, he was relieved to note, were not dummies, but worked in a perfectly normal manner. And after that was a kitchenette, with electric cooker, refrigerator, storage cupboards, crockery and cutlery, sink, table, and chairs. Bowman began to explore this not only with curiosity, but with mounting hunger.\n\nFirst he opened the refrigerator, and a wave of cold mist rolled out. The shelves were well stocked with packages and cans, all of them looking perfectly familiar from a distance, though at close quarters their proprietary labels were blurred and unreadable. However, there was a notable absence of eggs, milk, butter, meat, fruit, or any other unprocessed food; the refrigerator held only items that had already been packaged in some way.\n\nBowman picked up a carton of a familiar breakfast cereal, thinking as he did so that it was odd to keep this frozen. The moment he lifted the package, he knew that it certainly did not contain cornflakes; it was much too heavy.\n\nHe ripped open the lid, and examined the contents.\n\nThe box contained a slightly moist blue substance, of about the weight and texture of bread pudding. Apart from its odd color, it looked quite appetizing.\n\nBut this is ridiculous, Bowman told himself. I am almost certainly being watched, and I must look an idiot wearing this suit. If this is some kind of intelligence test, I've probably failed already. Without further hesitation, he walked back into the bedroom and began to undo the clamp of his helmet. When it was loose, he lifted the helmet a fraction of an inch, cracked the seal and took a cautious sniff. As far as he could tell, he was breathing perfectly normal air.\n\nHe dropped the helmet on the bed, and began thankfully - and rather stiffly - to divest himself of his suit. When he had finished, he stretched, took a few deep breaths, and carefully hung the spacesuit up among the more conventional articles of clothing in the closet. It looked rather odd there, but the compulsive tidiness that Bowman shared with all astronauts would never have allowed him to leave it anywhere else.\n\nThen he walked quickly back into the kitchen and began to inspect the \"cereal\" box at closer quarters.\n\nThe blue bread pudding had a faint, spicy smell, something like a macaroon. Bowman weighed it in his hand, then broke off a piece and cautiously sniffed at it. Though he felt sure now that there would be no deliberate attempt to poison him, there was always the possibility of mistakes - especially in a matter so complex as biochemistry.\n\nHe nibbled at a few crumbs, then chewed and swallowed the fragment of food; it was excellent, though the flavor was so elusive as to be almost indescribable. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine it was meat, or wholemeal bread, or even dried fruit. Unless there were unexpected aftereffects, he had no cause to fear starvation.\n\nWhen he had eaten just a few mouthfuls of the substance, and already felt quite satisfied, he looked for something to drink. There were half a dozen cans of beer - again of a famous brand - at the back of the refrigerator, and he pressed the tab on one of them to open it.\n\nThe prestressed metal lid popped off along its strain lines, exactly as usual. But the can did not contain beer; to Bowman's surprised disappointment, it held more of the blue food.\n\nIn a few seconds he had opened half a dozen of the other packages and cans. Whatever their labels, their contents were the same; it seemed that his diet was going to be a little monotonous, and that he would have nothing but water to drink. He filled a glass from the kitchen faucet and sipped at it cautiously.\n\nHe spat out the first few drops at once; the taste was terrible. Then, rather ashamed of his instinctive reaction, he forced himself to drink the rest.\n\nThat first sip had been enough to identify the liquid. It tasted terrible because it had no taste at all; the faucet was supplying pure, distilled water. His unknown hosts were obviously taking no chances with his health.\n\nFeeling much refreshed, he then had a quick shower. There was no soap, which was another minor inconvenience, but there was a very efficient hot-air drier in which be luxuriated for a while before trying on underpants, vest, and dressing gown from the clothes closet. After that, he lay down on the bed, stared up at the ceiling, and tried to make sense of this fantastic situation.\n\nHe had made little progress when he was distracted by another line of thought. Immediately above the bed was the usual hotel-type ceiling TV screen; he had assumed that, like the telephone and books, it was a dummy.\n\nBut the control unit on its swinging bedside arm looked so realistic that he could not resist playing with it; and as his fingers touched the ON sensor disk, the screen lit up.\n\nFeverishly, he started to tap out channel selector codes at random - and almost at once he got his first picture.\n\nIt was a well-known African news commentator, discussing the attempts being made to preserve the last remnants of his country's wild life. Bowman listened for a few seconds, so captivated by the sound of a human voice that he did not in the least care what it was talking about. Then he changed channels.\n\nIn the next five minutes, he got a symphony orchestra playing Walton's Violin Concerto, a discussion on the sad state of the legitimate theater, a western, a demonstration of a new headache cure, a panel game in some Oriental language, a psychodrama, three news commentaries, a football game, a lecture on solid geometry (in Russian), and several tuning signals and data transmissions. It was, in fact, a perfectly normal selection from the world's TV programs, and apart from the psychological uplift it gave him, it confirmed one suspicion that had already been forming in his mind.\n\nAll the programs were about two years old. That was around the time TMA-1 had been discovered, and it was hard to believe that this was a pure coincidence. Something had been monitoring the radio waves; that ebon block had been busier than men had suspected.\n\nHe continued to wander across the spectrum, and suddenly recognized a familiar scene. Here was this very suite, now occupied by a celebrated actor who was furiously denouncing an unfaithful mistress. Bowman looked with a shock of recognition upon the living room he had just left - and when the camera followed the indignant couple toward the bedroom, he involuntarily looked toward the door to see if anyone was entering.\n\nSo that was how this reception area had been prepared for him; his hosts had based their ideas of terrestrial living upon TV programs. His feeling that he was inside a movie set was almost literally true.\n\nHe had learned all that he wished to for the moment, and turned off the set. What do I do now? he asked himself, locking his fingers behind his head and staring up at the blank screen.\n\nHe was physically and emotionally exhausted, yet it seemed impossible that one could sleep in such fantastic surroundings, and farther from Earth than any man in history had ever been. But the comfortable bed, and the instinctive wisdom of the body, conspired together against his will.\n\nHe fumbled for the light switch, and the room was plunged into darkness. Within seconds, he had passed beyond the reach of dreams.\n\nSo, for the last time, David Bowman slept.\n\n[ Recapitulation ]\n\nThere being no further use for it, the furniture of the suite dissolved back into the mind of its creator. Only the bed remained - and the walls, shielding this fragile organism from the energies it could not yet control.\n\nIn his sleep, David Bowman stirred restlessly. He did not wake, nor did he dream, but he was no longer wholly unconscious. Like a fog creeping through a forest, something invaded his mind. He sensed it only dimly, for the full impact would have destroyed him as surely as the fires raging beyond these walls. Beneath that dispassionate scrutiny, he felt neither hope nor fear; all emotion had been leached away.\n\nHe seemed to be floating in free space, while around him stretched, in all directions, an infinite geometrical grid of dark lines or threads, along which moved tiny nodes of light - some slowly, some at dazzling speed.\n\nOnce he had peered through a microscope at a cross-section of a human brain, and in its network of nerve fibers had glimpsed the same labyrinthine complexity. But that had been dead and static, whereas this transcended life itself. He knew - or believed he knew - that he was watching the operation of some gigantic mind, contemplating the universe of which he was so tiny a part.\n\nThe vision, or illusion, lasted only a moment.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Then the crystalline planes and lattices, and the interlocking perspectives of moving light, flickered out of existence, as David Bowman moved into a realm of consciousness that no man had experienced before.",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 81 sentences.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "At first, it seemed that Time itself was running backward. Even this marvel he was prepared to accept, before be realized the subtler truth.\n\nThe springs of memory were being tapped; in controlled recollection, he was reliving the past. There was the hotel suite - there the space pod - there the burning starscapes of the red sun - there the shining core of the galaxy - there the gateway through which he had reemerged into the universe. And not only vision, but all the sense impressions, and all the emotions he had felt at the time, were racing past, more and more swiftly. His life was unreeling like a tape recorder playing back at ever-increasing speed.\n\nNow he was once more aboard the Discovery and the rings of Saturn filled the sky. Before that, he was repeating his final dialogue with Hal; he was seeing Frank Poole leave on his last mission; he was hearing the voice of Earth, assuring him that all was well.\n\nAnd even as he relived these events, he knew that all indeed was well. He was retrogressing down the corridors of time, being drained of knowledge and experience as he swept back toward his childhood. But nothing was being lost; all that be had ever been, at every moment of his life, was being transferred to safer keeping. Even as one David Bowman ceased to exist, another became immortal.\n\nFaster, faster he moved back into forgotten years, and into a simpler world. Faces he had once loved, and had thought lost beyond recall, smiled at him sweetly. He smiled back with fondness, and without pain.\n\nNow, at last, the headlong regression was slackening; the wells of memory were nearly dry. Time flowed more and more sluggishly, approaching a moment of stasis - as a swinging pendulum, at the limit of its arc, seems frozen for one eternal instant, before the next cycle begins.\n\nThe timeless instant passed; the pendulum reversed its swing. In an empty room, floating amid the fires of a double star twenty thousand light-years from Earth, a baby opened its eyes and began to cry.\n\n[ Transformation ]\n\nThen it became silent, as it saw that it was no longer alone.\n\nA ghostly, glimmering rectangle had formed in the empty air. It solidified into a crystal tablet, lost its transparency, and became suffused with a pale, milky luminescence. Tantalizing, ill-defined phantoms moved across its surface and in its depths. They coalesced into bars of lights and shadow, then formed intermeshing, spoked patterns that began slowly to rotate, in time with the pulsing rhythm that now seemed to fill the whole of space.\n\nIt was a spectacle to grasp and hold the attention of any child - or of any man-ape. But, as it had been three million years before, it was only the outward manifestation of forces too subtle to be consciously perceived. It was merely a toy to distract the senses, while the real processing was carried out at far deeper levels of the mind.\n\nThis time, the processing was swift and certain, as the new design was woven. For in the eons since their last meeting, much had been learned by the weaver; and the material on which he practiced his art was now of an infinitely finer texture. But whether it should be permitted to form part of his still-growing tapestry, only the future could tell.\n\nWith eyes that already held more than human intentness, the baby stared into the depths of the crystal monolith, seeing - but not yet understanding - the mysteries that lay beyond. It knew that it had come home, that here was the origin of many races besides its own; but it knew also that it could not stay. Beyond this moment lay another birth, stranger than any in the past.\n\nNow the moment had come; the glowing patterns no longer echoed the secrets in the crystal's heart. As they died, so too the protective walls faded back into the nonexistence from which they bad briefly emerged, and the red sun filled the sky.\n\nThe metal and plastic of the forgotten space pod, and the clothing once worn by an entity who had called himself David Bowman, flashed into flame. The last links with Earth were gone, resolved back into their component atoms.\n\nBut the child scarcely noticed, as he adjusted himself to the comfortable glow of his new environment. He still needed, for a little while, this shell of matter as the focus of his powers. His indestructible body was his mind's present image of itself; and for all his powers, he knew that he was still a baby. So he would remain until he had decided on a new form, or had passed beyond the necessities of matter.\n\nAnd now it was time to go - though in one sense he would never leave this place where he had been reborn, for he would always be part of the entity that used this double star for its unfathomable purposes. The direction, though not the nature, of his destiny was clear before him, and there was no need to trace the devious path by which he had come. With the instincts of three million years, he now perceived that there were more ways than one behind the back of space. The ancient mechanisms of the Star Gate had served him well, but he would not need them again.\n\nThe glimmering rectangular shape that had once seemed no more than a slab of crystal still floated before him, indifferent as he was to the harmless flames of the inferno beneath. It encapsulated yet unfathomed secrets of space and time, but some at least he now understood and was able to command. How obvious - how necessary - was that mathematical ratio of its sides, the quadratic sequence 1 : 4 : 9! And how naive to have imagined that the series ended at this point, in only three dimensions!\n\nHe focused his mind upon these geometrical simplicities, and as his thoughts brushed against it, the empty framework filled with the darkness of the interstellar night. The glow of the red sun faded - or, rather, seemed to recede in all directions at once - and there before him was the luminous whirlpool of the galaxy.\n\nIt might have been some beautiful, incredibly detailed model, embedded in a block of plastic. But it was the reality, grasped as a whole with senses now more subtle than vision. If he wished, he could focus his attention upon any one of its hundred billion stars; and he could do much more than that.\n\nHere he was, adrift in this great river of suns, halfway between the banked fires of the galactic core and the lonely, scattered sentinel stars of the rim. And here he wished to be, on the far side of this chasm in the sky, this serpentine band of darkness, empty of all stars. He knew that this formless chaos, visible only by the glow that limned its edges from fire-mists far beyond, was the still unused stuff of creation, the raw material of evolutions yet to be. Here, Time had not begun; not until the suns that now burned were long since dead would light and life reshape this void.\n\nUnwittingly, he had crossed it once; now he must cross it again - this time, of his own volition. The thought filled him with a sudden, freezing terror, so that for a moment he was wholly disorientated, and his new vision of the universe trembled and threatened to shatter into a thousand fragments.\n\nIt was not fear of the galactic gulfs that chilled his soul, but a more profound disquiet, stemming from the unborn future. For he had left behind the time scales of his human origin; now, as he contemplated that band of starless night, he knew his first intimations of the Eternity that yawned before him.\n\nThen he remembered that he would never be alone, and his panic slowly ebbed. The crystal-clear perception of the universe was restored to him - not, he knew, wholly by his own efforts. When he needed guidance in his first faltering steps, it would be there.\n\nConfident once more, like a high diver who had regained his nerve, he launched himself across the light-years. The galaxy burst forth from the mental frame in which he had enclosed it; stars and nebulae poured past him in an illusion of infinite speed. Phantom suns exploded and fell behind as he slipped like a shadow through their cores; the cold, dark waste of cosmic dust which he had once feared seemed no more than the beat of a raven's wing across the face of the Sun.\n\nThe stars were thinning out; the glare of the Milky Way was dimming into a pale ghost of the glory he had known - and, when he was ready, would know again.\n\nHe was back, precisely where he wished to be, in the space that men called real.\n\n[ Star-Child ]\n\nThere before him, a glittering toy no Star-Child could resist, floated the planet Earth with all its peoples.\n\nHe had returned in time. Down there on that crowded globe, the alarms would be flashing across the radar screens, the great tracking telescopes would be searching the skies - and history as men knew it would be drawing to a close.\n\nA thousand miles below, he became aware that a slumbering cargo of death had awoken, and was stirring sluggishly in its orbit. The feeble energies it contained were no possible menace to him; but he preferred a cleaner sky. He put forth his will, and the circling megatons flowered in a silent detonation that brought a brief, false dawn to half the sleeping globe. Then he waited, marshaling his thoughts and brooding over his still untested powers. For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next.\n\nBut he would think of something.",
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "same energy as 2001_ a space odyssey, keep writing. story might have ongoing elements",
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"from": "human",
"value": "[ The Road to Extinction ]",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "The drought had lasted now for ten million years, and the reign of the terrible lizards had long since ended.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Here on the Equator, in the continent which would one day be known as Africa, the battle for existence had reached a new climax of ferocity, and the victor was not yet in sight.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "In this barren and desiccated land, only the small or the swift or the fierce could flourish, or even hope to survive.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man-apes of the veldt were none of these things, and they were not flourishing. Indeed, they were already far down the road to racial extinction. About fifty of them occupied a group of caves overlooking a small, parched valley, which was divided by a sluggish stream fed from snows in the mountains two hundred miles to the north. In bad times the stream vanished completely, and the tribe lived in the shadow of thirst.\n\nIt was always hungry, and now it was starving. When the first faint glow of dawn crept into the cave, Moon-Watcher saw that his father had died in the night.",
"loss": true
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He did not know that the Old One was his father, for such a relationship was utterly beyond his understanding, but as he looked at the emaciated body he felt dim disquiet that was the ancestor of sadness.\n\nThe two babies were already whimpering for food, but became silent when Moon-Watcher snarled at them. One of the mothers, defending the infant she could not properly feed, gave him an angry growl in return; he lacked the energy even to cuff her for her presumption.\n\nNow it was light enough to leave. Moon-Watcher picked up the shriveled corpse and dragged it after him as he bent under the low overhang of the cave. Once outside, he threw the body over his shoulder and stood upright - the only animal in all this world able to do so.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Among his kind, Moon-Watcher was almost a giant. He was nearly five feet high, and though badly undernourished weighed over a hundred pounds. His hairy, muscular body was halfway between ape and man, but his head was already much nearer to man than ape. The forehead was low, and there were ridges over the eye sockets, yet he unmistakably held in his genes the promise of humanity. As he looked out upon the hostile world of the Pleistocene, there was already something in his gaze beyond the capacity of any ape. In those dark, deep-set eyes was a dawning awareness - the first intimations of an intelligence that could not possibly fulfill itself for ages yet, and might soon be extinguished forever.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "There was no sign of danger, so Moon-Watcher began to scramble down the almost vertical slope outside the cave, only slightly hindered by his burden.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "As if they had been waiting for his signal, the rest of the tribe emerged from their own homes farther down the rock face, and began to hasten toward the muddy waters of the stream for their morning drink.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Moon-Watcher looked across the valley to see if the Others were in sight, but there was no trace of them.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc) Word usage target: 'moon-watcher' must be used 2 times (ooc)",
"loss": false
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perhaps they had not yet left their caves, or were already foraging farther along the hillside. Since they were nowhere to be seen, Moon-Watcher forgot them; he was incapable of worrying about more than one thing at a time.\n\nFirst he must get rid of the Old One, but this was a problem that demanded little thought. There had been many deaths this season, one of them in his own cave; he had only to put the corpse where he had left the new baby at the last quarter of the moon, and the hyenas would do the rest.\n\nThey were already waiting, where the little valley fanned out into the savanna, almost as if they had known that he was coming. Moon-Watcher left the body under a small bush - all the earlier bones were already gone - and hurried back to rejoin the tribe.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He never thought of his father again.\n\nHis two mates, the adults from the other caves, and most of the youngsters were foraging among the drought-stunted trees farther up the valley, looking for berries, succulent roots and leaves, and occasional windfalls like small lizards or rodents. Only the babies and the feeblest of the old folk were left in the caves; if there was any surplus food at the end of the day's searching, they might be fed. If not, the hyenas would soon be in luck once more.\n\nBut this day was a good one - though as Moon-Watcher had no real remembrance of the past, he could not compare one time with another. He had found a hive of bees in the stump of a dead tree, and so had enjoyed the finest delicacy that his people could ever know; he still licked his fingers from time to time as he led the group homeward in the late afternoon.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Of course, he had also collected a fair number of stings, but he had scarcely noticed them.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "He was now as near to contentment as he was ever likely to be; for though he was still hungry, he was not actually weak with hunger.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was the most to which any man-ape could ever aspire.\n\nHis contentment vanished when he reached the stream. The Others were there. They were there every day, but that did not make it any the less annoying.\n\nThere were about thirty of them, and they could not have been distinguished from the members of MoonWatcher's own tribe. As they saw him coming they begun to dance, shake their arms, and shriek on their side of the stream, and his own people replied in kind.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And that was all that happened. Though the man-apes often fought and wrestled one another, their disputes very seldom resulted in serious injuries. Having no claws or fighting canine teeth, and being well protected by hair, they could not inflict much harm on one another. In any event, they had little surplus energy for such unproductive behavior; snarling and threatening was a much more efficient way of asserting their points of view.\n\nThe confrontation lasted about five minutes; then the display died out as quickly as it had begun, and everyone drank his fill of the muddy water. Honor had been satisfied; each group had staked its claim to its own territory.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "This important business having been settled, the tribe moved off along its side of the river.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The nearest worthwhile grazing was now more than a mile from the caves, and they had to share it with a herd of large, antelope-like beasts who barely tolerated their presence.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Required word frequency: 'beyond' (2x)",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They could not be driven away, for they were armed with ferocious daggers on their foreheads - the natural weapons which the man-apes did not possess.\n\nSo Moon-Watcher and his companions chewed berries and fruit and leaves and fought off the pangs of hunger - while all around them, competing for the same fodder, was a potential source of more food than they could ever hope to eat. Yet the thousands of tons of succulent meat roaming over the savanna and through the bush was not only beyond their reach; it was beyond their imagination. In the midst of plenty, they were slowly starving to death.\n\nThe tribe returned to its cave without incident, in the last light of the day. The injured female who had remained behind cooed with pleasure as Moon-Watcher gave her the berry-covered branch he had brought back, and began to attack it ravenously.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was little enough nourishment here, but it would help her to survive until the wound the leopard had given her had healed, and she could forage for herself again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Over the valley, a full moon was rising, and a chill wind was blowing down from the distant mountains. It would be very cold tonight - but cold, like hunger, was not a matter for any real concern; it was merely part of the background of life.\n\nMoon-Watcher barely stirred when the shrieks and screams echoed up the slope from one of the lower caves, and he did not need to hear the occasional growl of the leopard to know exactly what was happening.\n\nDown there in the darkness old White Hair and his family were fighting and dying, and the thought that he might help in some way never crossed Moon-Watcher's mind. The harsh logic of survival ruled out such fancies, and not a voice was raised in protest from the listening hillside. Every cave was silent, lest it also attract disaster.",
"loss": true
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The tumult died away, and presently Moon-Watcher could hear the sound of a body being dragged over rocks. That lasted only a few seconds; then the leopard got a good hold on its kill. It made no further noise as it padded silently away, carrying its victim effortlessly in its jaws.\n\nFor a day or two, there would be no further danger here, but there might be other enemies abroad, taking advantage of this cold Little Sun that shone only by night. If there was sufficient warning, the smaller predators could sometimes be scared away by shouts and screams. Moon-Watcher crawled out of the cave, clambered onto a large boulder beside the entrance, and squatted there to survey the valley.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc) ⚠️ Required: Use 'would' exactly 2 times (ooc)",
"loss": false
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Of all the creatures who had yet walked on Earth, the man-apes were the first to look steadfastly at the Moon. And though he could not remember it, when he was very young Moon-Watcher would sometimes reach out and try to touch that ghostly face rising above the hills.\n\nHe had never succeeded, and now he was old enough to understand why. For first, of course, he must find a high enough tree to climb.\n\nSometimes he watched the valley, and sometimes he watched the Moon, but always he listened. Once or twice he dozed off, but he slept with a hair-trigger alertness, and the slightest sound would have disturbed him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "At the great age of twenty-five, he was still in full possession of all his faculties; if his luck continued, and he avoided accidents, disease, predators, and starvation, he might survive for as much as another ten years.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 3 sentences.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The night wore on, cold and clear, without further alarms, and the Moon rose slowly amid equatorial constellations that no human eye would ever see. In the caves, between spells of fitful dozing and fearful waiting, were being born the nightmares of generations yet to be.\n\nAnd twice there passed slowly across the sky, rising up to the zenith and descending into the east, a dazzling point of light more brilliant than any star.",
"loss": true
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Hey can you write like 2001_ a space odyssey and use whatever i write as a jumping off point? btw characters and stuff might show up without backstory, just go with it",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moon-Watcher and his companions had no recollection of what they had seen, after the crystal had ceased to cast its hypnotic spell over their minds and to experiment with their bodies. The next day, as they went out to forage, they passed it with scarcely a second thought; it was now part of the disregarded background of their lives. They could not eat it, and it could not eat them; therefore it was not important.\n\nDown at the river, the Others made their usual ineffectual threats. Their leader, a one-eared man-ape of Moon-Watcher's size and age, but in poorer condition, even made a brief foray toward the tribe's territory, screaming loudly and waving his arms in an attempt to scare the opposition and to bolster his own courage.\n\nThe water of the stream was nowhere more than a foot deep, but the farther One-Ear moved out into it, the more uncertain and unhappy he became. Very soon he slowed to a halt, and then moved back, with exaggerated dignity, to join his companions.\n\nOtherwise, there was no change in the normal routine. The tribe gathered just enough nourishment to survive for another day, and no one died.\n\nAnd that night, the crystal slab was still waiting; surrounded by its pulsing aura of light and sound. The program it had contrived, however, was now subtly different.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some, of the man-apes it ignored completely, as if it was concentrating on the most promising subjects.\n\nOne of them was Moon-Watcher; once again he felt inquisitive tendrils creeping down the unused byways of his brain. And presently, he began to see visions. They might have been within the crystal block; they might have been wholly inside his mind. In any event, to Moon-Watcher they were completely real. Yet somehow the usual automatic impulse to drive off invaders of his territory had been lulled into quiescence.\n\nHe was looking at a peaceful family group, differing in only one respect from the scenes he knew. The male, female, and two infants that had mysteriously appeared before him were gorged and replete, with sleek and glossy pelts - and this was a condition of life that Moon-Watcher had never imagined. Unconsciously, he felt his own protruding ribs; the ribs of these creatures were hidden in rolls of fat. From time to time they stirred lazily, as they lolled at ease near the entrance of a cave, apparently at peace with the world. Occasionally; the big male emitted a monumental burp of contentment.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was no other activity, and after five minutes the scene suddenly faded out.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The crystal was no more than a glimmering outline in the darkness; Moon-Watcher shook himself as if awaking from a dream, abruptly realized where he was, and led the tribe back to the caves.\n\nHe had no conscious memory of what he had seen; but that night, as he sat brooding at the entrance of his lair, his ears attuned to the noises of the world around him, Moon-Watcher felt the first faint twinges of a new and potent emotion. It was a vague and diffuse sense of envy - of dissatisfaction with his life. He had no idea of its cause, still less of its cure; but discontent had come into his soul, and he had taken one small step toward humanity.\n\nNight after night, the spectacle of those four plump man-apes was repeated, until it had become a source of fascinated exasperation, serving to increase Moon-Watcher's eternal, gnawing hunger. The evidence of his eyes could not have produced this effect; it needed psychological reinforcement. There were gaps in Moon-Watcher's life now that he would never remember, when the very atoms of his simple brain were being twisted into new patterns. If he survived, those patterns would become eternal, for his genes would pass them on to future generations.\n\nIt was a slow, tedious business, but the crystal monolith was patient. Neither it, nor its replicas scattered across half the globe, expected to succeed with all the scores of groups involved in the experiment. A hundred failures would not matter, when a single success could change the destiny of the world.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "By the time of the next new moon, the tribe had seen one birth and two deaths.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One of these had been due to starvation; the other had occurred during the nightly ritual, when a man-ape had suddenly collapsed while attempting to tap two pieces of stone delicately together. At once, the crystal had darkened, and the tribe had been released from the spell. But the fallen man-ape had not moved; and by the morning, of course, the body was gone.\n\nThere had been no performance the next night; the crystal was still analyzing its mistake. The tribe streamed past it through the gathering dusk, ignoring its presence completely. The night after, it was ready for them again. The four plump man-apes were still there, and now they were doing extraordinary things. Moon-Watcher began to tremble uncontrollably; he felt as if his brain would burst, and wanted to turn away his eyes. But that remorseless mental control would not relax its grip; he was compelled to follow the lesson to the end, though all his instincts revolted against it.\n\nThose instincts had served his ancestors well, in the days of warm rains and lush fertility, when food was to be had everywhere for the plucking. Now times had changed, and the inherited wisdom of the past had become folly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "⚠️ Required: Use 'power' exactly 2 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man-apes must adapt, or they must die - like the greater beasts who had gone before them, and whose bones now lay sealed within the limestone hills.\n\nSo Moon-Watcher stared at the crystal monolith with unblinking eyes, while his brain lay open to its still uncertain manipulations. Often he felt nausea, but always he felt hunger; and from time to time his hands clenched unconsciously in the patterns that would determine his new way of life.\n\nAs the line of warthogs moved snuffling and grunting across the trail, Moon-Watcher came to a sudden halt. Pigs and man-apes had always ignored each other, for there was no conflict of interest between them. Like most animals that did not compete for the same food, they merely kept out of each other's way.\n\nYet now Moon-Watcher stood looking at them, wavering back and forth uncertainly as he was buffeted by impulses which he could not understand, Then, as if in a dream, he started searching the ground - though for what, he could not have explained even if he had had the power of speech. He would recognize it when he saw it.\n\nIt was a heavy, pointed stone about six inches long, and though it did not fit his hand perfectly, it would do. As he swung his hand around, puzzled by its suddenly increased weight, he felt a pleasing sense of power and authority. He started to move toward the nearest pig.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "ill start (might include ongoing story elements), then u do 1 sentence in 2001_ a space odyssey's voice ok?",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The tools they had been programmed to use were simple enough, yet they could change this world and make the man-apes its masters.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The most primitive was the hand-held stone, that multiplied manyfold the power of a blow.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then there was the bone club, that lengthened the reach and could provide a buffer against the fangs or claws of angry animals.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "With these weapons, the limitless food that roamed the savannas was theirs to take.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But they needed other aids, for their teeth and nails could not readily dismember anything larger than a rabbit, Luckily, Nature had provided the perfect tools, requiring only the wit to pick them up; First there was a crude but very efficient knife or saw, of a model that would serve well for the next three million years.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was simply the lower jawbone of an antelope, with the teeth still in place; there would be no substantial improvement until the coming of steel.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then there was an awl or dagger in the form of a gazelle horn, and finally a scraping tool made from the complete jaw of almost any small animal.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The stone club, the toothed saw, the horn dagger, the bone scraper - these were the marvelous inventions which the man-apes needed in order to survive.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Soon they would recognize them for the symbols of power that they were, but many months must pass before their clumsy fingers had acquired the skill - or the will - to use them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Perhaps, given time, they might by their own efforts have come to the awesome and brilliant concept of using natural weapons as artificial tools.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But the odds were all against them, and even now there were endless opportunities for failure in the ages that lay ahead.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man-apes had been given their first chance.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There would be no second one; the future was, very literally, in their own hands.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moons waxed and waned; babies were born and sometimes lived; feeble, toothless thirty-year-olds died; the leopard took its toll in the night; the Others threatened daily across the river - and the tribe prospered.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the course of a single year, Moon-Watcher and his companions had changed almost beyond recognition.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They had learned their lessons well; now they could handle all the tools that had been revealed to them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The very memory of hunger was fading from their minds; and though the warthogs were becoming shy, there were gazelles and antelopes and zebras in countless thousands on the plains.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "All these animals, and others, had fallen prey to the apprentice hunters.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Now that they were no longer half-numbed with starvation, they had time both for leisure and for the first rudiments of thought.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Their new way of life was now casually accepted, and they did not associate it in any way with the monolith still standing beside the trail to the river.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "If they had ever stopped to consider the matter, they might have boasted that they had brought about their improved status by their own efforts; in fact, they had already forgotten any other mode of existence.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But no Utopia is perfect, and this one had two blemishes.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The first was the marauding leopard, whose passion for man-apes seemed to have grown even stronger now that they were better nourished.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The second was the tribe across the river; for somehow the Others had survived, and had stubbornly refused to die of starvation.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The leopard problem was resolved partly by chance, partly owing to a serious - indeed almost fatal - error on Moon-Watcher's part.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Yet at the time his idea had seemed such a brilliant one that he had danced with joy, and perhaps he could hardly be blamed for overlooking the consequences.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The tribe still experienced occasional bad days, though these no longer threatened its very survival.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Toward dusk, it had failed to make a kill; the home caves were already in sight as Moon-Watcher led his tired and disgruntled companions back to shelter.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And there, on their very threshold, they found one of nature's rare bonanzas.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A full-grown antelope was lying by the trail.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Its foreleg was broken, but it still had plenty of fight in it, and the circling jackals gave its daggerlike horns a respectful berth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They could afford to wait; they knew that they had only to bide their time.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But they had forgotten about the competition, and retreated with angry snarls when the man-apes arrived.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They too circled warily, keeping beyond the range of those dangerous horns; then they moved to the attack with clubs and stones.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was not a very effective or coordinated attack; by the time the wretched beast had been given its quietus the light had almost gone - and the jackals were regaining their courage.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moon-Watcher, torn between fear and hunger, slowly realized that all this effort might have been in vain.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was too dangerous to stay here any longer.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then, not for the first or the last time, he proved himself a genius.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With an immense effort of imagination, he visualized the dead antelope - in the safety of his own cave.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He began to drag it toward the cliff face; presently, the others understood his intentions, and began to help him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If he had known how difficult the task would be, he would never have attempted it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only his great strength, and the agility inherited from his arboreal ancestors allowed him to haul the carcass up the steep slope.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Several times, weeping with frustration, he almost abandoned his prize, but a stubbornness as deep-seated as his hunger drove him on.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sometimes the others helped him, sometimes they hindered; more often, they merely got in the way.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But finally it was done; the battered antelope was dragged over the lip of the cave, as the last hues of sunlight faded from the sky; and the feasting began.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hours later, gorged to repletion, Moon-Watcher awoke.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not knowing why, he sat up in the darkness among the sprawled bodies of his equally satiated companions, and strained his ears into the night.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no sound except the heavy breathing around him; the whole world seemed asleep.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The rocks beyond the mouth of the cave were pale as bone in the brilliant light from the moon, now high overhead.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Any thought of danger seemed infinitely remote.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then, from a long way off, came the sound of a falling pebble.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Fearful, yet inquisitive, Moon-Watcher crawled out onto the ledge of the cave and peered down the face of the cliff.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "What he saw left him so paralyzed with fright that for long seconds he was unable to move.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Only twenty feet below, two gleaming golden eyes were staring straight up at him; they held him so hypnotized with fear that he was scarcely aware of the lithe, streaked body behind them, flowing smoothly and silently from rock to rock.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Never before had the leopard climbed so high.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It had ignored the lower caves, though it must have been well aware of their inhabitants.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now it was after other game; it was following the spoor of blood, up the moon-washed face of the cliff.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Seconds later, the night was made hideous by the shrieks of alarm from the man-apes in the cave above.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The leopard gave a snarl of fury as it realized that it had lost the element of surprise.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But it did not check its advance, for it knew that it had nothing to fear.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It reached the ledge, and rested for a moment on the narrow open space.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The scent of blood was all around, filling its fierce and tiny mind with one overwhelming desire.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Without hesitation, it padded silently into the cave.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And here it made its first error, for as it moved out of the moonlight even its superbly night-adapted eyes were at a momentary disadvantage.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Make sure to use 'could' 2 time(s) throughout your message",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man-apes could see it, partly silhouetted against the opening of the cave, more clearly than it could see them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They were terrified, but they were no longer utterly helpless.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Snarling and lashing its tail in arrogant confidence, the leopard advanced in search of the tender food that it craved.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Had it met its prey in the open, it would have had no problems; but now that the man-apes were trapped, desperation had given them the courage to attempt the impossible.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And for the first time they had the means to achieve it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The leopard knew that something was wrong when it felt a stunning blow on its head.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It lashed out with its forepaw, and heard a shriek of agony as its claws slashed through soft flesh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then there was a piercing pain as something sharp drove into its flanks - once, twice, and yet a third time.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It whirled around to strike at the shadows screaming and dancing on all sides.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Again there was a violent blow as something caught it across the snout.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Its teeth snapped on a white, moving blur - only to grate uselesssly upon dead bone.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And now - in a final, unbelievable indignity - its tail was being dragged out by the roots.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It whirled around, throwing its insanely daring tormentor against the wall of the cave.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet whatever it did, it could not escape the rain of blows, inflicted on it by crude weapons wielded by clumsy but powerful hands.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Its snarls ran the gamut from pain to alarm, from alarm to outright terror.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The implacable hunter was now the victim, and was desperately trying to retreat.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then it made its second mistake, for in its surprise and fright it had forgotten where it was.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Or perhaps it had been dazed or blinded by the blows rained on its head; whatever the case, it bolted abruptly from the cave.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a horrible screech as it went toppling out into space.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ages later, it seemed, there came a thud as it crashed into an outcropping halfway down the cliff; thereafter, the only sound was the sliding of loose stones, which quickly died away into the night.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For a long time, intoxicated by victory, Moon-Watcher stood dancing and gibbering at the entrance of the cave.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He rightly sensed that his whole world had changed and that he was no longer a powerless victim of the forces around him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Then he went back into the cave and, for the first time in his life, had an unbroken night's sleep.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the morning, they I found the body of the leopard at the foot of the cliff.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even in death, it was some time before anyone dared to approach the vanquished monster, but presently they closed in upon it, with their bone knives and saws.\n\nIt was very hard work, and they did no hunting that day.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand the story by adding 12 sentences. Context: May include pre-existing characters and lore.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As he led the tribe down to the river in the dim light of dawn, Moon-Watcher paused uncertainly at a familiar spot.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Something, he knew, was missing; but what it was, he could not remember.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He wasted no mental effort on the problem, for this morning he had more important matters on his mind.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like thunder and lightning and clouds and eclipses, the great block of crystal had departed as mysteriously as it had come. Having vanished into the nonexistent past, it never troubled Moon-Watcher's thoughts again.\n\nHe would never know what it had done to him; and none of his companions wondered, as they gathered round him in the morning mist, why he had paused for a moment here on the way to the river.\n\nFrom their side of the stream, in the never-violated safety of their own territory, the Others first saw Moon-Watcher and a dozen males of his tribe as a moving frieze against the dawn sky. At once they began to scream their daily challenge; but this time, there was no answer.\n\nSteadily, purposefully - above all, silently - Moon-Watcher and his band descended the low hillock that overlooked the river; and as they approached, the Others became suddenly quiet. Their ritual rage ebbed away, to be replaced by a mounting fear. They were dimly aware that something had happened, and that this encounter was unlike all those that had ever gone before.\n\nThe bone clubs and knives that Moon-Watcher's group carried did not alarm them, for they did not understand their purpose. They only knew that their rivals' movements were now imbued with determination, and with menace.\n\nThe party stopped at the water's edge, and for a moment the Others' courage revived. Led by One-Ear, they halfheartedly resumed their battle chant.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It lasted only a few seconds before a vision of terror struck then dumb.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moon-Watcher raised his arms high into the air, revealing the burden that until now had been concealed by the hirsute bodies of his companions. He was holding a stout branch, and impaled upon it was the bloody head of the leopard. The mouth had been jammed open with a stick, and the great fangs gleamed a ghastly white in the first rays of the rising sun.\n\nMost of the Others were too paralyzed with fright to move; but some began a slow, stumbling retreat. That was all the encouragement that Moon-Watcher needed. Still holding the mangled trophy above his head, he started to cross the stream. After a moment's hesitation, his companions splashed after him.\n\nWhen Moon-Watcher reached the far side, One-Ear was still standing his ground. Perhaps he was too brave or too stupid to run; perhaps he could not really believe that this outrage was actually happening. Coward or hero, it made no difference in the end, as the frozen snarl of death came crashing down upon his uncomprehending head.\n\nShrieking with fright, the Others scattered into the bush; but presently they would return, and soon they would forget their lost leader.\n\nFor a few seconds Moon-Watcher stood uncertainly above his new victim, trying to grasp the strange and wonderful fact that the dead leopard could kill again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Now he was master of the world, and he was not quite sure what to do next.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But he would thinkof something.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: The user will write a bit then you need to write around two sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Characters and lore may appear without context - work with what's given.\n\nAuthor style: 2001_ a space odyssey",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Half an hour later the pilot announced: \"We make contact in ten minutes. Please check your seat harness.\"\n\nFloyd obeyed, and put away his papers.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was asking for trouble to read during the celestial juggling act which took place during the last 300 miles; best to close one's eyes and relax while the spacecraft was nudged back and forth with brief bursts of rocket power.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A few minutes later he caught his first glimpse of Space Station One, only a few miles away. The sunlight glinted and sparkled from the polished metal surfaces of the slowly revolving, three-hundred-yard-diameter disk.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not far away, drifting in the same orbit, was a sweptback Titov-V spaceplane, and close to that an almost spherical Aries-1B, the workhorse of space, with the four stubby legs of its lunar-landing shock absorbers jutting from one side.\n\nThe Orion III spacecraft was descending from a higher orbit, which brought the Earth into spectacular view behind the Station.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "From his altitude of 200 miles, Floyd could see much of Africa and the Atlantic Ocean.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was considerable cloud cover, but he could still detect the blue-green outlines of the Gold Coast.\n\nThe central axis of the Space Station, with its docking arms extended, was now slowly swimming toward them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Unlike the structure from which it sprang, it was not rotating - or, rather, it was running in reverse at a rate which exactly countered the Station's own spin. Thus a visiting spacecraft could be coupled to it, for the transfer of personnel or cargo, without being whirled disastrously around.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With the softest of thuds, ship and Station made contact. There were metallic, scratching noises from outside, then the brief hissing of air as pressures equalized.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A few seconds later the airlock door opened, and a man wearing the light, close-fitting slacks and short-sleeved shirt which was almost the uniform of Space Station personnel came into the cabin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Floyd. I'm Nick Miller, Station Security; I'm to look after you until the shuttle leaves.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They shook hands, then Floyd smiled at the stewardess and said: \"Please give my compliments to Captain Tynes, and thank him for the smooth ride. Perhaps I'll see you on the way home.\"\n\nVery cautiously - it was more than a year since he had last been weightless and it would be some time before he regained his spacelegs - he hauled himself hand over hand through the airlock and into the large, circular chamber at the axis of the Space Station.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a heavily padded room, its walls covered with recessed handholds; Floyd gripped one of these firmly while the whole chamber started to rotate, until it matched the spin of the Station.\n\nAs it gained speed, faint and ghostly gravitational fingers began to clutch at him, and he drifted slowly toward the circular wall.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Now he was standing, swaying back and forth gently like seaweed in the surge of the tide, on what had magically become a curving floor.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The centrifugal force of the Station's spin had taken hold of him; it was very feeble here, so near the axis, but would increase steadily as he moved outward.\n\nFrom the central transit chamber he followed Miller down a curving stair.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "At first his weight was so slight that he had almost to force himself downward by holding on to the handrail.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not until he reached the passenger lounge, on the outer skin of the great revolving disk, had he acquired enough weight to move around almost normally.\n\nThe lounge had been redecorated since his last visit, and had acquired several new facilities.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Besides the usual chairs, small tables, restaurant, and post office there were now a barber shop, drugstore, movie theater and a souvenir shop selling photographs and slides of lunar and planetary landscapes, guaranteed genuine pieces of Luniks, Rangers, and Surveyors, all neatly mounted in plastic, and exorbitantly priced.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Can I get you anything while we're waiting?\" Miller asked. \"We board in about thirty minutes?'\n\n\"I could do with a cup of black coffee - two lumps - and I'd like to call Earth.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Right, Doctor - I'll get the coffee - the phones are over there.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The picturesque booths were only a few yards from a barrier with two entrances labeled WELCOME TO THE U.S. SECTION and WELCOME TO THE SOVIET SECTION.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Beneath these were notices which read, in English, Russian, and Chinese, French, German, and Spanish.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "PLEASE HAVE READY YOUR:\n\n- Passport",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "- Visa",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "- Medical Certificate\n\n- Transportation Permit",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "- Weight Declaration",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a rather pleasant symbolism about the fact that as soon as they had passed through the barriers, in either direction, passengers were free to mix again. The division was purely for administrative purposes.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Floyd, after checking that the Area Code for the United States was still 81, punched his twelve-digit home number, dropped his plastic all-purpose credit card into the pay slot, and was through in thirty seconds.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "/set_word_count: would, frequency: 2",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Washington was still sleeping, for it was several hours to dawn, but he would not disturb anyone. His housekeeper would get the message from the recorder as soon as she awoke.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "[Author's note: Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'leave']",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Miss Flemming - this is Dr. Floyd. Sorry I had to leave in such a hurry. Would you please call my office and ask them to collect the car - it's at Dulles Airport and the key is with Mr. Bailey, Senior Flight Control Officer. Next, will you call the Chevy Chase Country Club and leave a message for the secretary. I definitely won't be able to play in the tennis tournament next weekend. Give my apologies - I'm afraid they were counting on me. Then call Downtown Electronies and tell them that if the video in my study isn't fixed by - oh, Wednesday - they can take the damn thing back.\" He paused for breath, and tried to think of any other crises or problems that might arise during the days ahead.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"If you run short of cash, speak to the office; they can get urgent messages to me, but I may be too busy to answer. Give my love to the children, and say I'll be back as soon as I can. Oh, hell - here's someone I don't want to see - I'll call from the Moon if I can - good-bye.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 3 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc: Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'dimitri')",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Floyd tried to duck out of the booth, but it was too late; he had already been spotted. Bearing down on him through the Soviet Section exit was Dr. Dimitri Moisevitch, of the U.S.S.R. Academy of Science. Dimitri was one of Floyd's best friends; and for that very reason, he was the last person he wished to talk to, here and now.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: The user will write a bit then you need to write around 73 sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Characters and lore may appear without context - work with what's given.\n\nAuthor style: 2001_ a space odyssey",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Russian astronomer was tall, slender, and blond, and his unlined face belied his fifty-five years - the last ten of which had been spent building up the giant radio observatory on the far side of the Moon, where two thousand miles of solid rock would shield it from the eletronic racket of Earth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Why, Heywood,\" he said, shaking hands firmly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's a small universe... How are you - and your charming children?\"\n\n\"We're fine,\" Floyd replied warmly, but with a slightly distracted air. \"We often talk about the wonderful time you gave us last summer.\" He was sorry he could not sound more sincere; they really had enjoyed a week's vacation in Odessa with Dimitri during one of the Russian's visits to Earth.\n\n\"And you - I suppose you're on your way up?\" Dimitri inquired.\n\n\"Er, yes - my flight leaves in half an hour,\" answered Floyd. \"Do you know Mr. Miller?\"\n\nThe Security Officer had now approached, and was standing at a respectful distance holding a plastic cup full of coffee.\n\n\"Of course. But please put that down, Mr. Miller. This is Dr. Floyd's last chance to have a civilized drink - let's not waste it. No - I insist.\"\n\nThey followed Dimitri out of the main lounge into the observation section, and soon were sitting at a table under a dim light watching the moving panorama of the stars. Space Station One revolved once a minute, and the centrifugal force generated by this slow spin produced an artificial gravity equal to the Moon's. This, it had been discovered, was a good compromise between Earth gravity and no gravity at all; moreover, it gave moon-bound passengers a chance to become acclimatized.\n\nOutside the almost invisible windows, Earth and stars marched in a silent procession. At the moment, this side of the Station was tilted away from the sun; otherwise, it would have been impossible to look out, for the lounge would have been blasted with light. Even as it was, the glare of the Earth, filling half the sky, drowned all but the brighter stars.\n\nBut Earth was waning, as the Station orbited toward the night side of the planet; in a few minutes it would be a huge black disk, spangled with the lights of cities. And then the sky would belong to the stars.\n\n\"Now,\" said Dimitri, after he had swiftly downed his first drink and was toying with the second, \"what's all this about an epidemic in the U.S. Sector? I wanted to go there on this trip. 'No, Professor,' they told me. 'We're very sorry, but there's a strict quarantine until further notice.' I pulled all the strings I could; It was no use. Now you tell me what's happening.\"\n\nFloyd groaned inwardly. Here we go again, he said. The sooner I'm on that shuttle, headed for the Moon, the happier I'll be.\n\n\"The - ah - quarantine is purely a safety precaution,\" he said cautiously. 'We're not even sure it's really necessary, but we don't believe in taking chances.\"\n\n\"But what is the disease - what are the symptoms? Could it be extraterrestrial? Do you want any help from our medical services?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Dimitri - we've been asked not to say anything at the moment. Thanks for the offer, but we can handle the situation.\"\n\n\"Hmm,\" said Moisevitch, obviously quite unconvinced. \"Seems odd to me that you, an astronomer, should be sent up to the Moon to look into an epidemic.\"\n\n\"I'm only an ex-astronomer; it's years since I did any real research. Now I'm a scientific expert; that means I know nothing about absolutely everything.\"\n\n\"Then do you know what TMA-1 means?\"\n\nMiller seemed about to choke on his drink, but Floyd was made of sterner stuff. He looked his old friend straight in the eye, and said calmly: \"TMA-1? What an odd expression. Where did you hear it?\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" retorted the Russian. \"You can't fool me. But if you've run into something you can't handle, I hope you don't leave it until too late before you yell for help.\"\n\nMiller looked meaningfully at his watch.\n\n\"Due to board in five minutes, Dr. Floyd,\" he said. \"I think we'd better get moving.\"\n\nThough he knew that they still had a good twenty minutes, Floyd got up with haste. Too much haste, for he had forgotten the one-sixth of a gravity. He grabbed the table just in time to prevent a takeoff.\n\n\"It was fine meeting you, Dimitri,\" he said, not quite accurately. \"Hope you have a good trip down to Earth - I'll give you a call as soon as I'm back.\"\n\nAs they left the lounge, and checked through the U.S. transit barrier, Floyd remarked: \"Phew - that was close. Thanks for rescuing me.\"\n\n\"You know, Doctor,\" said the Security Officer, \"I hope he isn't right.\"\n\n\"Right about what?\"\n\n\"About us running into something we can't handle.\"\n\n\"That,\" Floyd answered with determination, \"is what I intend to find out.\"\n\nForty-five minutes later, the Aries-lB lunar carrier pulled away from the Station. There was none of the power and fury of a takeoff from Earth - only an almost inaudible, far-off whistling as the low-thrust plasma jets blasted their electrified streams into space. The gentle push lasted for more than fifteen minutes, and the mild acceleration would not have prevented anyone from moving around the cabin. But when it was over, the ship was no longer bound to Earth, as it had been while it still accompanied the Station. It had broken the bonds of gravity and was now a free and independent planet, circling the sun in an orbit of its own.\n\nThe cabin Floyd now had all to himself had been designed for thirty passengers. It was strange, and rather lonely, to see all the empty seats around him, and to have the undivided attention of the steward and stewardess - not to mention pilot, copilot, and two engineers. He doubted that any man in history had ever received such exclusive service, and it was most unlikely that anyone would do so in the future. He recalled the cynical remark of one of the less reputable pontiffs: \"Now that we have the papacy, let us enjoy it.\" Well, he would enjoy this tip, and the euphoria of weightlessness. With the loss of gravity he had - at least for a while - shed most of his cares. Someone had once said that you could be terrified in space, but you could not be worried there. It was perfectly true.\n\nThe stewards, it appeared, were determined to make him eat for the whole twenty-five hours of the trip, and he was continually fending off unwanted meals. Eating in zero gravity was no real problem, contrary to the dark forebodings of the early astronauts. He sat at an ordinary table, to which the plates were clipped, as aboard ship in a rough sea. All the courses had some element of stickiness, so that they would not take off and go wandering round the cabin. Thus a chop would be glued to the plate by a thick sauce, and a salad kept under control by an adhesive dressing. With a little skill and care there were few items that could not be tackled safely; the only things banned were hot soups and excessively crumbly pastries. Drinks of course, were a different matter; all liquids simply had to be kept in plastic squeeze tubes.\n\nA whole generation of research by heroic but unsung volunteers had gone into the design of the washroom, and it was now considered to be more or less foolproof. Floyd investigated it soon after free fall had begun. He found himself in a little cubicle with all the fittings of an ordinary airline toilet, but illuminated with a red light that was very harsh and unpleasant to the eye. A notice printed in prominent letters announced: MOST IMPORTANT! FOR YOUR OWN COMFORT, PLEASE READ THESE INSTRUCTIONS CAREFULLY!\n\nFloyd sat down (one still tended to do so, even when weightless) and read the notice several times. When he was sure that there had been no modifications since his last trip, he pressed the START button.\n\nClose at hand, an electric motor began to whirr, and Floyd felt himself moving. As the notice advised him to do, he closed his eyes and waited.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "After a minute, a bell chimed softly and he looked around.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 65 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The light had now changed to a soothing pinkish-white; but, more important, he was under gravity again.\n\nOnly the faintest vibration revealed that it was a spurious gravity, caused by the carrousel-like spin of the whole toilet compartment. Floyd picked up a piece of soap, and watched it drop in slow motion; he judged that the centrifugal force was about a quarter of a normal gravity. But that was quite enough; it would ensure that everything moved in the right direction, in the one place where this mattered most.\n\nHe pressed the STOP FOR EXIT button, and closed his eyes again. Weight slowly ebbed as the rotation ceased, the bell gave a double chime, and the red warning light was back. The door was then locked in the right position to let him glide out into the cabin, where he adhered as quickly as possible to the carpet. He had long ago exhausted the novelty of weightlessness, and was grateful for the Velcro slippers that allowed him to walk almost normally.\n\nThere was plenty to occupy his time, even if he did nothing but sit and read. When he tired of official reports and memoranda and minutes, he would plug his foolscap-sized Newspad into the ship's information circuit and scan the latest reports from Earth. One by one he would conjure up the world's major electronic papers; he knew the codes of the more important ones by heart, and had no need to consult the list on the back of his pad. Switching to the display unit's short-term memory, he would hold the front page while he quickly searched the headlines and noted the items that interested him.\n\nEach had its own two-digit reference; when he punched that, the postage-stamp-sized rectangle would expand until it neatly filled the screen and he could read it with comfort. When he had finished, he would flash back to the complete page and select a new subject for detailed examination.\n\nFloyd sometimes wondered if the Newspad, and the fantastic technology behind it, was the last word in man's quest for perfect communications. Here he was, far out in space, speeding away from Earth at thousands of miles an hour, yet in a few milliseconds he could see the headlines of any newspaper he pleased. (That very word \"newspaper,\" of course, was an anachronistic hangover into the age of electronics.) The text was updated automatically on every hour; even if one read only the English versions, one could spend an entire lifetime doing nothing but absorbing the ever-changing flow of information from the news satellites.\n\nIt was hard to imagine how the system could be improved or made more convenient. But sooner or later, Floyd guessed, it would pass away, to be replaced by something as unimaginable as the Newspad itself would have been to Caxton or Gutenberg.\n\nThere was another thought which a scanning of those tiny electronic headlines often invoked. The more wonderful the means of communication, the more trivial, tawdry, or depressing its contents seemed to be. Accidents, crimes, natural and man-made disasters, threats of conflict, gloomy editorials - these still seemed to be the main concern of the millions of words being sprayed into the ether. Yet Floyd also wondered if this was altogether a bad thing; the newspapers of Utopia, he had long ago decided, would be terribly dull.\n\nFrom time to time the captain and the other members of the crew came into the cabin and exchanged a few words with him. They treated their distinguished passenger with awe, and were doubtless burning with curiosity about his mission, but were too polite to ask any questions or even to drop any hints.\n\nOnly the charming little stewardess seemed completely at ease in his presence. As Floyd quickly discovered, she came from Bali, and had carried beyond the atmosphere some of the grace and mystery of that still largely unspoiled island. One of his strangest, and most enchanting, memories of the entire trip was her zero-gravity demonstration of some classical Balinese dance movements, with the lovely, blue-green crescent of the waning Earth as a backdrop.\n\nThere was one sleep period, when the main cabin lights were switched off and Floyd fastened down his arms and legs with the elastic sheets that would prevent him from drifting away into space. It seemed a crude arrangement - but here in zero gravity his unpadded couch was more comfortable than the most luxurious mattress on Earth.\n\nWhen he had strapped himself in, Floyd dozed off quickly enough, but woke up once in a drowsy, half-conscious condition, to be completely baffled by his strange surroundings. For a moment he thought that be was in the middle of some dimly lit Chinese lantern; the faint glow from the other cubicles around him gave that impression. Then he said to himself, firmly and successfully: \"Go to sleep, boy. This is just an ordinary moon shuttle.\"\n\nWhen he awoke, the Moon had swallowed up half the sky, and the braking maneuvers were about to begin.\n\nThe wide arc of windows set in the curving wall of the passenger section now looked out onto the open sky, not the approaching globe, so he moved into the control cabin. Here, on the rear-view TV screens, he could watch the final stages of the descent.\n\nThe approaching lunar mountains were utterly unlike those of Earth; they lacked the dazzling caps of snow, the green, close-fitting garments of vegetation, the moving crowns of cloud, Nevertheless, the fierce contrasts of light and shadow gave them a strange beauty of their own. The laws of earthly aesthetics did not apply here; this world had been shaped and molded by other than terrestrial forces, operating over eons of time unknown to the young, verdant Earth, with its fleeting Ice Ages, its swiftly rising and falling seas, its mountain ranges dissolving like mists before the dawn. Here was age inconceivable - but not death, for the Moon had never lived - until now.\n\nThe descending ship was poised almost above the line dividing night from day, and directly below was a chaos of jagged shadows and brilliant, isolated peaks catching the first light of the slow lunar dawn. That would be a fearful place to attempt a landing, even with all possible electronic aids; but they were slowly drifting away from it, toward the night side of the Moon.\n\nThen Floyd saw, as his eyes grew more accustomed to the fainter illumination, that the night land was not wholly dark. It was aglow with a ghostly light, in which peaks and valleys and plains could be clearly seen. The Earth, a giant moon to the Moon, was flooding the land below with its radiance.\n\nOn the pilot's panel, lights flashed above radar screens, numbers came and went on computer displays, clocking off the distance of the approaching Moon. They were still more than a thousand miles away when weight returned as the jets began their gentle but steady deceleration. For ages, it seemed, the Moon slowly expanded across the sky, the sun sank below the horizon, and at last a single giant crater filled the field of view.\n\nThe shuttle was falling toward its central peaks - and suddenly Floyd noticed that near one of those peaks a brilliant light was flashing with a regular rhythm. It might have been an airport beacon back on Earth, and he stared at it with a tightening of the throat. It was proof that men had established another foothold on the Moon.\n\nNow the crater had expanded so much that its ramparts were slipping below the horizon, and the smaller craterlets that peppered its interior were beginning to disclose their real size. Some of these, tiny though they had seemed from far out in space, were miles across, and could have swallowed whole cities.\n\nUnder its automatic controls, the shuttle was sliding down the starlit sky, toward that barren landscape glimmering in the light of the great gibbous Earth. Now a voice was calling somewhere above the whistle of the jets and the electronic beepings that came and went through the cabin.\n\n\"Clavius Control to Special 14, you are coming in nicely. Please make manual check of landing-gear lock, hydraulic pressure, shock-pad inflation.\"\n\nThe pilot pressed sundry switches, green lights flashed, and he called back, \"All manual checks completed. Landing-gear lock, hydraulic pressure, shock pad O.K.\"\n\n\"Confirmed,\" said the Moon, and the descent continued wordlessly. Though there was still plenty of talking, it was all being done by machines, flashing binary impulses to one another at a thousand times the rate their slow-thinking makers could communicate.\n\nSome of the mountain peaks were already towering above the shuttle; now the ground was only a few thousand feet away, and the beacon light was a brilliant star, flashing steadily above a group of low buildings and odd vehicles. In the final stage of the descent, the jets seemed to be playing some strange tune; they pulsed on and off, making the last fine adjustments to the thrust.\n\nAbruptly, a swirling cloud of dust hid everything, the jets gave one final spurt, and the shuttle rocked very slightly, like a rowboat when a small wave goes by. It was some minutes before Floyd could really accept the silence that now enfolded him and the weak gravity that gripped his limbs.\n\nHe had made, utterly without incident and in little more than one day, the incredible journey of which men had dreamed for two thousand years. After a normal routine flight, he had landed on the Moon.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: Story collab\nContext: May include established elements\nMe: Opening\nYou: twenty-seven sentences more, 2001_ a space odyssey-style",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Clavius, 150 miles in diameter, is the second largest crater on the visible face of the Moon, and lies in the center of the Southern Highlands.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It is very old; ages of vulcanism and bombardment from space have scarred its walls and pockmarked its floor.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But since the last era of crater formation, when the debris from the asteroid belt was still battering the inner planets, it had known peace for half a billion years.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Now there were new, strange stirrings on and below its surface, for here Man was establishing his first permanent bridgehead on the Moon.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Clavius Base could, in an emergency, be entirely self-supporting.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "All the necessities of life were produced from the local rocks, - after they had been crushed, heated, and chemically processed.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hydrogen, oxygen; carbon, nitrogen, phosphorus - all these, and most of the other elements, could be found inside the Moon, if one knew where to look for them. The Base was a closed system, like a tiny working model of Earth itself, recycling all the chemicals of life. The atmosphere was purified in a vast \"hothouse\" - a large, circular room buried just below the lunar surface. Under blazing lamps by night, and filtered sunlight by day, acres of stubby green plants grew in a warm, moist atmosphere. They were special mutations, designed for the express purpose of replenishing the air with oxygen, and providing food as a by-product. More food was produced by chemical processing systems and algae culture. Although the green scum circulating through yards of transparent plastic tubes would scarcely have appealed to a gourmet, the biochemists could convert it into chops and steaks only an expert could distinguish from the real thing.\n\nThe eleven hundred men and six hundred women who made up the personnel of the Base were all highly trained scientists or technicians, carefully selected before they had left Earth. Though lunar living was now virtually free from the hardships, disadvantages, and occasional dangers of the early days, it was still psychologically demanding, and not recommended for anyone suffering from claustrophobia. Since it was expensive and time-consuming to cut a large underground base out of solid rock or compacted lava, the standard one-man \"living module\" was a room only about six feet wide, ten feet long, and eight feet high.\n\nEach room was attractively furnished and looked very much like a good motel suite, with convertible sofa, TV, small hi-fi set, and vision-phone. Moreover, by a simple trick of interior decoration, the one unbroken wall could be converted by the flip of a switch into a convincing terrestrial landscape. There was a choice of eight views. This touch of luxury was typical of the Base, though it was sometimes hard to explain its necessity to the folk back on Earth. Every man and woman in Clavius had cost a hundred thousand dollars in training and transport and housing; it was worth a little extra to maintain their peace of mind. This was not art for art's sake, but art for the sake of sanity.\n\nOne of the attractions of life in the base - and on the Moon as a whole - was undoubtedly the low gravity, which produced a sense of general well-being. However, this had its dangers, and it was several weeks before an emigrant from Earth could adapt to it. On the Moon, the human body had to learn a whole new set of reflexes. It had, for the first time, to distinguish between mass and weight.\n\nA man who weighed one hundred eighty pounds on Earth might be delighted to discover that he weighed only thirty pounds on the Moon. As long as he moved in a straight line at a uniform speed, he felt a wonderful sense of buoyancy. But as soon as he attempted to change course, to turn corners, or to stop suddenly - then he would find that his full one hundred eighty pounds of mass, or inertia, was still there. For that was fixed and unalterable - the same on Earth, Moon, Sun, or in free space. Before one could be properly adapted to lunar living, therefore, it was essential to learn that all objects were now six times as sluggish as their mere weight would suggest. It was a lesson usually driven home by numerous collisions and hard knocks, and old lunar hands kept their distance from newcomers until they were acclimatized.\n\nWith its complex of workshops, offices, storerooms, computer center, generators, garage, kitchen, laboratories, and food-processing plant, Clavius Base was a miniature world in itself.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And, ironically, many of the skills that had been used to build this underground empire had been developed during the half century of the Cold War.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 22 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Any man who had ever worked in a hardened missile site would have felt at home in Clavius. Here on the Moon were the same arts and hardware of underground living, and of protection against a hostile environment; but here they had been turned to the purposes of peaee.\n\nAfter ten thousand years, man had at last found something as exciting as war. Unfortunately, not all nations had yet realized that fact.\n\nThe mountains that had been so prominent just before landing had mysteriously disappeared, hidden from sight below the steeply curving lunar horizon. Around the spacecraft was a flat, gray plain; brilliantly lit by the slanting earthlight. Although the sky was, of course, completely black, only the brighter stars and planets could be seen, unless the eyes were shaded from the surface glare.\n\nSeveral very odd vehicles were rolling up to the Aries-lB spaceship - cranes, hoists, servicing trucks - some automatic, some operated by a driver in a small pressure cabin. Most of them moved on balloon tires, for this smooth, level plain posed no transportation difficulties; but one tanker rolled on the peculiar flex-wheels which had proved one of the best all-purpose ways of getting around on the Moon. A series of flat plates arranged in a circle, each plate independently mounted and sprung, the flex-wheel had many of the advantages of the caterpillar track from which it had evolved. It would adapt its shape and diameter to the terrain over which it was moving, and, unlike a caterpillar track, would continue to function even if a few sections were missing.\n\nA small bus with an extension tube like a stubby elephant trunk was now nuzzling affectionately up against the spacecraft. A few seconds later, there were bangings and bumpings from outside, followed by the sound of hissing air as connections were made and pressure was equalized. The inner door of the airlock opened, and the welcoming delegation entered.\n\nIt was led by Ralph Halvorsen, the Administrator of the Southern Province - which meant not only the Base but also any exploring parties that operated from it.\n\nWith him was his Chief Scientist, Dr. Roy Michaels, a grizzled little geophysicist whom Floyd knew from previous visits, and half a dozen senior scientists and executives. They greeted him with respectful relief; from the Administrator downward, it was obvious that they looked forward to a chance of unloading some of their worries.\n\n\"Very pleased to have you with us, Dr. Floyd,\" said Halvorsen. \"Did you have a good trip?\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" Floyd answered. \"It couldn't have been better. The crew looked after me very well.\" He exchanged the usual small talk that courtesy demanded while the bus rolled away from the spacecraft; by unspoken agreement, no one mentioned the reason for his visit. After traveling a thousand feet from the landing site, the bus came to a large sign which read:",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "user starts, u write ~19 sentences more. copy 2001_ a space odyssey's style. heads up: might have existing chars/lore",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The briefing took place in a large rectangular chamber that could hold a hundred people with ease. It was equipped with the latest optical and electronic displays and would have looked like a model conference room but for the numerous posters, pinups, notices, and amateur paintings which indicated that it was also the center of the local cultural life. Floyd was particularly struck by a collection of signs, obviously assembled with loving care, which carried such messages as PLEASE KEEP OFF THE GRASS... NO PARKING ON EVEN DAYS... DEFENSE DE FUMER... TO THE BEACH... CATTLE CROSSING... SOFT SHOULDERS and DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS. If these were genuine - as they certainly appeared to be - their transportation from Earth had cost a small fortune. There was a touching defiance about them; on this hostile world, men could still joke about the things they had been forced to leave behind - and which their children would never miss.\n\nA crowd of forty or fifty people was waiting for Floyd, and everyone rose politely as he entered behind the Administrator. As he nodded at several familiar faces, Floyd whispered to Halvorsen \"I'd like to say a few words before the briefing.\"\n\nFloyd sat down in the front row, while the Administrator ascended the rostrum and looked round his audience.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen,\" Halvorsen began, \"I needn't tell you that this is a very important occasion. We are delighted to have Dr. Heywood Floyd with us. We all know him by reputation, and many of us are acquainted with him personally. He has just completed a special flight from Earth to be here, and before the briefing he has a few words for us. Dr. Floyd,\" Floyd walked to the rostrum amid a sprinkling of polite applause, surveyed the audience with a smile, and said: \"Thank you - I only want to say this. The President has asked me to convey his appreciation of your - outstanding work, which we hope the world will soon be able to recognize. I'm quite aware,\" he continued carefully, \"that some of you - perhaps most of you - are anxious that the present veil of secrecy be withdrawn; you would not be scientists if you thought otherwise.\" He caught a glimpse of Dr. Michaels, whose face was creased in a slight frown which brought out a long scar down his right cheek - presumably the aftermath of some accident in space. The geologist, he was well aware, had been protesting vigorously against what he called this \"cops and robbers nonsense.\"\n\n\"But I would remind you,\" Floyd continued, \"that this is a quite extraordinary situation. We must be absolutely sure of our own facts; if we make errors now, there may be no second chance - so please be patient a little longer. Those are also the wishes of the President.\n\n\"That's all I have to say. Now I'm ready for your report.\"\n\nHe walked back to his seat; the Administrator said, 'Thank you very much, Dr. Floyd,\" and nodded, rather brusquely, to his Chief Scientist. On cue, Dr. Michaels walked up to the rostrum, and-the lights faded out.\n\nA photograph of the Moon flashed onto the screen. At the very center of the disk was a brilliant white crater ring, from which a striking pattern of rays fanned out.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It looked exactly as if someone had hurled a bag of flour at the face of the Moon, and it had spattered out in all directions.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"This is Tycho,\" said Michaels, pointing to the central crater.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"On this vertical photograph Tycho is even more conspicuous than when seen from Earth; then it's rather near the edge of the Moon. But observed from this viewpoint - looking straight down from a thousand miles up - you'll see how it dominates an entire hemisphere.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He let Floyd absorb this unfamiliar view of a familiar object, then continued: \"During the past year we have been conducting a magnetic survey of the region, from a low-level satellite. It was completed only last month, and this is the result... the map that started all the trouble.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another picture flashed on the screen; it looked like a contour map, though it showed magnetic intensity, not heights above sea level. For the most part, the lines were roughly parallel and spaced well apart; but in one corner of the map they became suddenly packed together, to form a series of concentric circles - like a drawing of a knothole in a piece of wood.\n\nEven to an untrained eye, it was obvious that something peculiar had happened to the Moon's magnetic field in this region; and in large letters across the bottom of the map were the words: TYCHO MAGNETIC ANOMALY-ONE (TMA-l). Stamped on the top right was CLASSIFIED.\n\n\"At first we thought it might be an outcrop of magnetic rock, but all the geological evidence was against it. And not even a big nickel-iron meteorite could produce a field as intense as this; so we decided to have a look.\n\n\"The first party discovered nothing - just the usual level terrain, buried beneath a very thin layer of moon-dust. They sank a drill in the exact center of the magnetic field to get a core sample for study. Twenty feet down, the drill stopped. So the survey party started to dig - not an easy job in spacesuits, as I can assure you.\n\n\"What they found brought them back to Base in a hurry. We sent out a bigger team, with better equipment. They excavated for two weeks - with the result you know.\"\n\nThe darkened assembly room became suddenly hushed and expectant as the picture on the screen changed. Though everyone had seen it many times, there was not a person who failed to crane forward as if hoping to find new details. On Earth and Moon, less than a hundred people had so far been allowed to set eyes on this photograph.\n\nIt showed a man in a bright red and yellow spacesuit standing at the bottom of an excavation and supporting a surveyor's rod marked off in tenths of a meter. It was obviously a night shot, and might have been taken anywhere on the Moon or Mars. But until now no planet had ever produced a scene like this.\n\nThe object before which the spacesuited man was posing was a vertical slab of jet-black material, about ten feet high and five feet wide: it reminded Floyd, somewhat ominously, of a giant tombstone. Perfectly sharp-edged and symmetrical, it was so black it seemed to have swallowed up the light falling upon it; there was no surface detail at all.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was impossible to tell whether it was made of stone or metal or plastic - or some material altogether unknown to man.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 7 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"TMA-1,\" Dr. Michaels declared, almost reverently. \"It looks brand new, doesn't it? I can hardly blame those who thought it was just a few years old, and tried to connect it with the third Chinese Expedition, back in '98. But I never believed that - and now we've been able to date it positively, from local geological evidence.\n\n\"My colleagues and I, Dr. Floyd, will stake our reputations on this. TMA-l has nothing to do with the Chinese. Indeed, it has nothing to do with the human race - for when it was buried, there were no humans.\n\n\"You see, it is approximately three million years old. What you are now looking at is the first evidence of intelligent life beyond the Earth.\"",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "The user will write a bit then you need to write around three sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Characters and story elements may appear without introduction - roll with them naturally. Try to mimic the style of 2001_ a space odyssey.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word count directive: Use 'province' exactly 2 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "MACRO-CRATER PROVINCE: Extends S from near center of visible face of moon, E of Central Crater Province. Densely pocked with impact craters; many large, and including the largest on moon; in N some craters fractured from impact forming Mare Imbrium. Rough surfaces almost everywhere, except for some crater bottoms.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "meta: ⚠️ Required: Use 'movement' exactly 2 times",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Most surfaces in slopes, mostly 10° to 12°; some crater bottoms nearly level.\n\nLANDING AND MOVEMENT: landing generally difficult because of rough, sloping surfaces; less difficult in some level crater bottoms. Movement possible almost everywhere but route selection required; less difficult on some level crater bottoms.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "CONSTRUCTION: Generally moderately difficult because of slope, and numerous large blocks in loose material; excavation of lava difficult in some crater bottoms.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "TYCHO: Post-Maria crater, 54 miles diameter, rim 7,900 feet above surroundings; bottom 12,000 feet deep; has the most prominent ray system on the moon, some rays extending more than 500 miles.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(Extract from \"Engineer Special Study of the Surface of the Moon,\" Office, Chief of Engineers, Department of the Army.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "U.S. Geological Survey, Washington, 1961.)",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "OOC - Word count directive: Use 'could' exactly 2 times",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The mobile lab now rolling across the crater plain at fifty miles an hour looked rather like an outsized trailer mounted on eight flex-wheels. But it was very much more than this; it was a self-contained base in which twenty men could live and work for several weeks. Indeed, it was virtually a landgoing spaceship - and in an emergency it could even fly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If it came to a crevasse or canyon which was too large to detour, and too steep to enter, it could hop across the obstacle on its four underjets.\n\nAs he peered out of the window, Floyd could see stretching ahead of him a well-defined trail, where dozens of vehicles had left a hard-packed band in the friable surface of the Moon. At regular intervals along the track were tall, slender rods, each carrying a flashing light.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "No one could possibly get lost on the 200-mile journey from Clavius Base to TMA-1, even though it was still night and the sun would not rise for several hours.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word usage requirement: 'earth' must appear 2 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The stars overhead were only a little brighter, or more numerous, than on a clear night from the high plateaus of New Mexico or Colorado. But there were two things in that coal-black sky that destroyed any illusion of Earth.\n\nThe first was Earth itself - a blazing beacon hanging above the northern horizon.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word count directive: Use 'brighter' exactly 2 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The light pouring down from that giant half-globe was dozens of times more brilliant than the full moon, and it covered all this land with a cold, blue-green phosphorescence.\n\nThe second celestial apparition was a faintt, pearly cone of light slanting up the eastern sky. It became brighter and brighter toward the horizon, hinting of great fires just concealed below the edge of the Moon.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here was a pale glory that no man had ever seen from Earth, save during the few moments of a total eclipse. It was the corona, harbinger of the lunar dawn, giving notice that before long the sun would smite this sleeping land.\n\nAs he sat with Halvorsen and Michaels in the forward observation lounge, immediately beneath the driver's position, Floyd found his thoughts turning again and again to the three-million-year-wide gulf that had just opened up before him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like all scientifically literate men, he was used to considering far longer periods of time - but they had concerned only the movements of stars and the slow cycles of the inanimate universe. Mind or intelligence had not been involved; those eons were empty of all that touched the emotions.\n\nThree million years! The infinitely crowded panorama of written history, with its empires and its kings, its triumphs and its tragedies, covered barely one thousandth of this appalling span of time.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not only Man himself, but most of the animals now alive on Earth, did not even exist when this black enigma was so carefully buried here, in the most brilliant and most spectacular of all the craters of the Moon.\n\nThat it had been buried, and quite deliberately, Dr. Michaels was absolutely sure. \"At first,\" he explained, \"I rather hoped it might mark the site of some underground structure, but our latest excavations have eliminated that. It's sitting on a wide platform of the same black material, with undisturbed rock beneath it. The - creatures - who designed it wanted to make sure it stayed put, barring major moonquakes. They were building for eternity.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was triumph, and yet sadness, in Michaels' voice, and Floyd could share both emotions.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "At last, one of man's oldest questions had been answered; here was the proof, beyond all shadow of doubt, that his was not the only intelligence that the universe had brought forth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But with that knowledge there came again an aching awareness of the immensity of Time. Whatever had passed this way had missed mankind by a hundred thousand generations. Perhaps, Floyd told himself, it was just as well.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And yet - what we might have learned from creatures who could cross space, while our ancestors were still living in trees!",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A few hundred yards ahead, a signpost was coming up over the Moon's strangely close horizon.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "At its base was a tent-shaped structure covered with shining silver foil, obviously for protection against the fierce heat of day.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the bus rolled by, Floyd was able to read in the brilliant earthlight:\n\nEMERGENCY DEPOT No. 3\n\n20 Kilos Lox",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "10 Kilos Water",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "20 Foodpaks Mk 4",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "1 Toolkit Type B\n\n1 Suit Repair Outfit\n\n! TELEPHONE !",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Have you thought of that?\" asked Floyd, pointing out of the window. \"Suppose the thing's a supply cache, left behind by an expedition that never returned?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It's a possibility,\" admitted Michaels.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That magnetic field certainly labeled its position, so that it could be easily found. But it's rather small - it couldn't hold much in the way of supplies.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why not?\" interjected Halvorsen. \"Who knows bow big they were? Perhaps they were only six inches tall, which would make the thing twenty or thirty stories high.\"\n\nMichaels shook his head.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Out of the question,\" he protested.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You can't have very small, intelligent creatures; you need a minimum brain size.\"\n\nMichaels and Halvorsen, Floyd had noticed, usually took opposing viewpoints, yet there appeared to be little personal hostility or friction between them. They seemed to respect each other, and simply agreed to disagree.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was certainly little agreement anywhere about the nature of TMA-1 - or the Tycho Monolith, as some preferred to call it, retaining part of the abbreviation.\n\nIn the six hours since he had landed on the Moon, Floyd had heard a dozen theories, but had committed himself to none. Shrine, survey marker, tomb, geophysical instrument - these were perhaps the favorite suggestions, and some of the protagonists grew very heated in their defense.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "🎯 Target word: 'would' | Required occurrences: 3",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A good many bets had-already been placed, and a lot of money would change hands when the truth was finally known - if, indeed, it ever was. So far, the hard black material of the slab had resisted all the rather mild attempts that Michaels and his colleagues had made to obtain samples. They had no doubt that a laser beam would cut into it - for, surely, nothing could resist that frightful concentration of energy - but the decision to employ such violent measures would be left to Floyd.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had already decided that X rays, sonic probes, neutron beams, and all other nondestructive means of investigation would be brought into play before he called up the heavy artillery of the laser. It was the mark of a barbarian to destroy something one could not understand; but perhaps men were barbarians, beside the creatures who had made this thing.\n\nAnd where could they have come from?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Moon itself? No, that was utterly impossible. If there had ever been indigenous life on this barren world, it had been destroyed during the last crater-forming epoch, when most of the lunar surface was white-hot.\n\nEarth? Very unlikely, though perhaps not quite impossible.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "meta: /set_word_count: would, frequency: 2",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Any advanced terrestrial civilization - presumably a nonhuman one - back in the Pleistocene Era would have left many other traces of its existence. We would have known all about it, thought Floyd, long before we got to the Moon.\n\nThat left two alternatives - the planets, and the stars.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Yet all the evidence was against intelligent life elsewhere in the Solar System - or indeed life of any kind except on Earth and Mars.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The inner planets were too hot, the outer ones far too cold, unless one descended into their atmosphere to depths where the pressures amounted to hundreds of tons to the square inch.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So perhaps these visitors had come from the stars - yet that was even more incredible. As he looked up at the constellations strewn across the ebon lunar sky, Floyd remembered how often his fellow scientists had \"proved\" that interstellar travel was impossible. The journey from Earth to Moon was still fairly impressive, but the very nearest star was a hundred million times more distant...",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Speculation was a waste of time; he must wait until there was more evidence,\n\n\"Please fasten your seat belts and secure all loose objects,\" said the cabin speaker suddenly. \"Forty degree slope approaching.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two marker posts with winking lights had appeared on the horizon, and the bus was steering between them.\n\nFloyd had barely adjusted his straps when the vehicle slowly edged itself over the brink of a really terrifying incline, and began to descend a long, rubble-covered slope as steep as the roof of a house. The slanting earth-light, coming from behind them, now gave very little illumination, and the bus's own floodlights had been switched on.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Many years ago Floyd had stood on the lip of Vesuvius, staring into the crater; he could easily imagine that he was now driving down into it and the sensation was not a very pleasant one.\n\nThey were descending one of the inner terraces of Tycho, and it leveled out again some thousand feet below. As they crawled down the slope, Michaels pointed out across the great expanse of plain now spread out beneath them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There they are,\" he exclaimed. Floyd nodded; he had already noticed the cluster of red and green lights several miles ahead, and kept his eyes fixed upon it as the bus edged its way delicately down the slope. The big vehicle was obviously under perfect control, but he did not breathe easily until it was once more on an even keel.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Now he could see, glistening like silver bubbles in the earthlight, a group of pressure domes - the temporary shelters housing the workers on the site.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Near these was a radio tower, a drilling rig, a group of parked vehicles, and a large pile of broken rock, presumably the material that had been excavated to reveal the monolith. This tiny camp in the wilderness looked very lonely, very vulnerable to the forces of nature ranged silently around it. There was no sign of life, and no visible hint as to why men had come here, so far from home.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You can just see the crater,\" said Michaels.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Over there on the right - about a hundred yards from that radio antenna.\"\n\nSo this is it, thought Floyd, as the bus rolled past the pressure domes, and came to the lip of the crater.\n\nHis pulse quickened as he craned forward for a better view.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The vehicle began to creep cautiously down a ramp of hard-packed rock, into the interior of the crater. And there, exactly as he had seen it in the photographs, was TMA-1.\n\nFloyd stared, blinked, shook his head, and stared again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Even in the brilliant earthlight, it was hard to see the object clearly; his first impression was of a flat rectangle that might have been cut out of carbon paper; it seemed to have no thickness at all.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Of course, this was an optical illusion; though he was looking at a solid body, it reflected so little light that he could see it only in silhouette.\n\nThe passengers were utterly silent as the bus descended into the crater. There was awe, and there was also incredulity - sheer disbelief that the dead Moon, of all worlds, could have sprung this fantastic surprise.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The bus came to a halt within twenty feet of the slab and broadside on so that all the passengers could examine it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Yet, beyond the geometrically perfect shape of the thing, there was little to see.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nowhere were there any marks, or any abatement of its ultimate, ebon blackness. It was the very crystallization of night, and for one moment Floyd wondered if it could indeed be some extraordinary natural formation, born of the fires and pressures attending the creation of the Moon. But that remote possibility, he knew, had already been examined and dismissed.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At some signal, floodlights around the lip of the crater were switched on, and the bright earthlight was obliterated by a far more brilliant glare. In the lunar vacuum the beams were, of course, completely invisible; they formed overlapping ellipses of blinding white, centered on the monolith. And where they touched it, its ebon surface seemed to swallow them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Pandora's box, thought Floyd, with a sudden sense of foreboding - waiting to be opened by inquisitive Man.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And what will he find inside?",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand the story by adding 12 sentences. Context: May include pre-existing characters and lore.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The main pressure dome at the TMA-1 site was only twenty feet across, and its interior was uncomfortably crowded.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The bus, coupled to it through one of the two airlocks, gave some much-appreciated extra living room.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Inside this hemispherical, double-walled balloon lived, worked, and slept the six scientists and technicians now permanently attached to the project.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It also contained most of their equipment and instruments, all the stores that could not be left in the vacuum outside, cooking, washing, and toilet facilities, geological samples and a small TV screen through which the site could be kept under continuous surveillance.\n\nFloyd was not surprised when Halvorsen elected to remain in the dome; he stated his views with admirable frankness.\n\n\"I regard spacesuits as a necessary evil,\" said the Administrator, \"I wear one four times a year, for my quarterly checkout tests. If you don't mind, I'll sit here and watch over the TV.\"\n\nSome of this prejudice was now unjustified, for the latest models were infinitely more comfortable than the clumsy suits of armor worn by the first lunar explorers. They could be put on in less than a minute, even without help, and were quite automatic. The Mk V into which Floyd was now carefully sealed would protect him from the worst that the Moon could do, either by day or by night.\n\nAccompanied by Dr. Michaels, he walked into the small airlock. As the throbbing of the pumps died away, and his suit stiffened almost imperceptibly around him, he felt himself enclosed in the silence of vacuum.\n\nThat silence was broken by the welcome sound of his suit radio.\n\n\"Pressure O.K., Dr. Floyd? Are you breathing normally?\"\n\n\"Yes - I'm fine.\"\n\nHis companion carefully checked the dials and gauges on the outside of Floyd's suit. Then he said:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"O.K.-let's go.\"\n\nThe outer door opened, and the dusty moonscape lay before them, glimmering in the earthlight.\n\nWith a cautious, waddling movement, Floyd followed Michaels through the lock. It was not hard to walk; indeed, in a paradoxical way the suit made him feel more at home than at any time since reaching the Moon. Its extra weight, and the slight resistance it imposed on his motion, gave some of the illusion of the lost terrestrial gravity.\n\nThe scene had changed since the party had arrived barely an hour ago. Though the stars, and the half-earth, were still as bright as ever, the fourteen-day lunar night had almost ended. The glow of the corona was like a false moonrise along the eastern sky - and then, without warning, the tip of the radio mast a hundred feet above Floyd's head suddenly seemed to burst into flame, as it caught the first rays of the hidden sun.\n\nThey waited while the project supervisor and two of his assistants emerged from the airlock, then walked slowly toward the crater. By the time they had reached it, a thin bow of unbearable incandescence had thrust itself above the eastern horizon. Though it would take more than an hour for the sun to clear the edge of the slowly turning moon, the stars were already banished. The crater was still in shadow, but the floodlights mounted around its rim lit the interior brilliantly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As Floyd walked slowly down the ramp toward the black rectangle, he felt a sense not only of awe but of helplessness.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Here, at the very portals of Earth, man was already face to face with a mystery that might never be solved.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Three million years ago, something had passed this way, had left this unknown and perhaps unknowable symbol of its-purpose, and had returned to the planets - or to the stars.\n\nFloyd's suit radio interrupted his reverie. \"Project supervisor speaking. If you'd all line up on this side, we'd like to take a few photos. Dr. Floyd, will you stand in the middle - Dr. Michaels - thank you. No one except Floyd seemed to think that there was anything funny about this. In all honesty, he had to admit that he was glad someone had brought a camera; here was a photo that would undoubtedly be historic, and he wanted copies for himself. He hoped that his face would be clearly visible through the helmet of the suit.\n\n\"Thanks, gentlemen,\" said the photographer, after they had posed somewhat self-consciously in front of the monolith, and he had made a dozen exposures.\n\n\"We'll ask the Base Photo Section to send you copies.\" Then Floyd turned his full attention to the ebon slab - walking slowly around it, examining it from every angle, trying to imprint its strangeness upon his mind.\n\nHe did not expect to find anything, for he knew that every square inch had already been gone over with microscopic care.\n\nNow the sluggish sun had lifted itself above the edge of the crater, and its rays were pouring almost broadside upon the eastern face of the block.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet it seemed to absorb every particle of light as if it had never been.\n\nFloyd decided to try a simple experiment; he stood between the monolith and the sun, and looked for his own shadow on the smooth black sheet. There was no trace of it. At least ten kilowatts of raw heat must be falling on the slab; if there was anything inside, it must be rapidly cooking.\n\nHow strange, Floyd thought, to stand here while - this thing - is seeing daylight for the first time since the Ice Ages began on Earth. He wondered again about its black color; that was ideal, of course, for absorbing solar energy. But he dismissed the thought at once; for who would be crazy enough to bury a sunpowered device twenty feet underground?\n\nHe looked up at the Earth, beginning to wane in the morning sky. Only a handful of the six billion people there knew of this discovery; how would the world react to the news when it was finally released? The political and social implications were immense; every person of real intelligence - everyone who looked an inch beyond his nose - would find his life, his values, his philosophy, subtly changed. Even if nothing whatsoever was discovered about TMA-1, and it remained an eternal mystery, Man would know that he was not unique in the universe. Though he had missed them by millions of years, those who had once stood here might yet return: and if not, there might well be others.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "All futures must now contain this possibility.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Incorporate 'floyd' into your response exactly 2 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Floyd was still musing over these thoughts when his helmet speaker suddenly emitted a piercing electronic shriek, like a hideously overloaded and distorted time signal. Involuntarily, he tried to block his ears with his spacesuited hands; then he recovered and groped frantically for the gain control of his receiver. While he was still fumbling four more of the shrieks blasted out of the ether; then there was a merciful silence.\n\nAll around the crater, figures were standing in attitudes of paralyzed astonishment. So it's nothing wrong with my gear, Floyd told himself; everyone heard those piercing electronic screams.\n\nAfter three million years of darkness, TMA-1 had greeted the lunar dawn.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "ill start (might include ongoing story elements), then u do 1 sentence in 2001_ a space odyssey's voice ok?",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A hundred million miles beyond Mars, in the cold loneliness where no man had yet traveled, Deep Space Monitor 79 drifted slowly among the tangled orbits of the asteroids.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "For three years it had fulfilled its mission flawlessly - a tribute to the American scientists who had designed it, the British engineers who had built it, the Russian technicians who had launched it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A delicate spider's-web of antennas sampled the passing waves of radio noise - the ceaseless crackle and hiss of what Pascal, in a far simpler age, had naively called the \"silence of infinite space.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Radiation detectors noted and analyzed incoming cosmic rays from the galaxy and points beyond; neutron and X-ray telescopes kept watch on strange stars that no human eye would ever see; magnetometers observed the gusts and hurricanes of the solar winds, as the Sun breathed million-mile-an-hour blasts of tenuous plasma into the faces of its circling children.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All these things, and many others, were patiently noted by Deep Space Monitor 79, and recorded in its crystalline memory.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One of its antennas, by now unconsidered miracles of electronics, was always aimed at a point never far from the Sun.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Every few months its distant target could have been seen, had there been any eye here to watch, as a bright star with a close, fainter companion; but most of the time it was lost in the solar glaze.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To that far-off planet Earth, every twenty-four hours, the monitor would send the information it had patiently garnered, packed neatly into one five-minute pulse.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "About a quarter of an hour late, traveling at the speed of light, that pulse would reach its destination.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The machines whose duty it was would be waiting for it; they would amplify and record the signal, and add it to the thousands of miles of magnetic tape now stored in the vaults of the World Space Centers at Washington, Moscow, and Canberra.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Since the first satellites had orbited, almost fifty years earlier, trillions and quadrillions of pulses of information had been pouring down from space, to be stored against the day when they might contribute to the advance of knowledge.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only a minute fraction of all this raw material would ever be processed; but there was no way of telling what observation some scientist might wish to consult, ten, or fifty, or a hundred years from now.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So everything had to be kept on file, stacked in endless air-conditioned galleries, triplicated at the three centers against the possibility of accidental loss.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was part of the real treasure of mankind, more valuable than all the gold locked uselessly away in bank vaults.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And now Deep Space Monitor 19 had noted something strange - a faint yet unmistakable disturbance rippling across the Solar System, and quite unlike any natural phenomenon it had ever observed in the past.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Automatically, it recorded the direction, the time, the intensity; in a few hours it would pass the information to Earth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As, also, would Orbiter M 15, circling Mars twice a day; and High Inclination Probe 21, climbing slowly above the plane of the ecliptic; and even Artificial Comet 5, heading out into the cold wastes beyond Pluto, along an orbit whose far point it would not reach for a thousand years.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "All noted the peculiar burst of energy that had disturbed their instruments; all, in due course, reported back automatically to the memory stores on distant Earth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The computers might never have perceived the connection between four peculiar sets of signals from space-probes on independent orbits millions of miles apart.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But as soon as he glanced at his morning report, the Radiation Forecaster at Goddard knew that something strange had passed through the Solar System during the last twenty-four hours.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had only part of its track, but when the computer projected it on the Planet Situation Board, it was as clear and unmistakable as a vapor trail across a cloudless sky, or a single line of footprints over a field of virgin snow.\n\nSome immaterial pattern of energy, throwing off a spray of radiation like the wake of a racing speedboat, had leaped from the face of the Moon, and was heading out toward the stars.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce four sentences as a continuation. Note: Story may reference established characters/events.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Precise word count needed: 'earth' × 2",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But now Texas was invisible, and even the United States was hard to see. Though the low-thrust plasma drive had long since been closed down, Discovery was still coasting with her slender arrowlike body pointed away from Earth, and all her high-powered optical gear was oriented toward the outer planets, where her destiny lay.\n\nThere was one telescope, however, that was permanently aimed at Earth. It was mounted like a gunsight on the rim of the ship's long-range antenna, and checked that the great parabolic bowl was rigidly locked upon its distant target.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "user note just fyi, CONSTRAINT: Include 'earth' 2 time(s)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "While Earth remained centered in the crosswires, the vital communication link was intact, and messages could come and go along the invisible beam that lengthened more than two million miles with every day that passed.\n\nAt least once in every watch period Bowman would lock homeward through the antenna-alignment telescope. As Earth was now far back toward the sun, its darkened hemisphere faced Discovery, and on the central display screen the planet appeared as a dazzling silver crescent, like another Venus.\n\nIt was rare that any geographical features could be identified in that ever-shrinking arc of light, for cloud and haze concealed them, but even the darkened portion of the disk was endlessly fascinating.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was sprinkled with shining cities; sometimes they burned with a steady light, sometimes they twinkled like fireflies as atmospheric tremors passed over them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were also periods when, as the Moon swung back and forth in its orbit, it shone down like a great lamp upon the darkened seas and continents of Earth.\n\nThen, with a thrill of recognition, Bowman could often glimpse familiar coastlines, shining in that spectral lunar light. And sometimes, when the Pacific was calm, he could even see the moonglow shimmering across its face; and he would remember nights beneath the palm trees of tropical lagoons.\n\nYet he had no regrets for these lost beauties.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He had enjoyed them all, in his thirty-five years of life; and he was determined to enjoy them again, when he returned rich and famous.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Meanwhile, distance made them all the more precious.\n\nThe sixth member of the crew cared for none of these things, for it was not human. It was the highly advanced HAL 9000 computer, the brain and nervous system of the ship.\n\nHal (for Heuristically programmed ALgorithmic computer, no less) was a masterwork of the third computer breakthrough.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "These seemed to occur at intervals of twenty years, and the thought that another one was now imminent already worried a great many people.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The first had been in the 1940s, when the long-obsolete vacuum tube had made possible such clumsy, high-speed morons as ENIAC and its successors. Then, in the 1960s, solid-state microelectronics had been perfected. With its advent, it was clear that artificial intelligences at least as powerful as Man's need be no larger than office desks - if one only knew how to construct them.\n\nProbably no one would ever know this; it did not matter.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the 1980s, Minsky and Good had shown how neural networks could be generated automatically - self replicated - in accordance with any arbitrary learning program.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Artificial brains could be grown by a process strikingly analogous to the development of a human brain. In any given case, the precise details would never be known, and even if they were, they would be millions of times too complex for human understanding. Whatever way it worked, the final result was a machine intelligence that could reproduce - some philosophers still preferred to use the word \"mimic\" - most of the activities of the human brain - and with far greater speed and reliability. It was extremely expensive, and only a few units of the HAL9000 series had yet been built; but the old jest that it would always be easier to make organic brains by unskilled labor was beginning to sound a little hollow.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Hal had been trained for this mission as thoroughly as his human colleagues - and at many times their rate of input, for in addition to his intrinsic speed, he never slept.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His prime task was to monitor the life-support systems, continually checking oxygen pressure, temperature, hull leakage, radiation, and all the other interlocking factors upon which the lives of the fragile human cargo depended. He could carry out the intricate navigational corrections, and execute the necessary flight maneuvers when it was time to change course. And he could watch over the hibernators, making any necessary adjustments to their environment and doling out the minute quantities of intravenous fluids that kept them alive.\n\nThe first generations of computers had received their inputs through glorified typewriter keyboards, and had replied through high-speed printers and visual displays.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Hal could do this when necessary, but most of his communication with his shipmates was by means of the spoken word.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Poole and Bowman could talk to Hal as if he were a human being and he would reply in the perfect idiomatic English he had learned during the fleeting weeks of his electronic childhood.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Whether Hal could actually think was a question which had been settled by the British mathematician Alan Turing back in the 1940s. Turing had pointed out that, if one could carry out a prolonged conversation with a machine - whether by typewriter or microphone was immaterial - without being able to distinguish between its replies and those that a man might give, then the machine was thinking, by any sensible definition of the word. Hal could pass the Turing test with ease.\n\nThe time might even come when Hal would take command of the ship.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 5 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In an emergency, if no one answered his signals, he would attempt to wake the sleeping members of the crew, by electrical and chemical stimulation. If they did not respond, he would radio Earth for further orders.\n\nAnd then, if there was no reply from Earth, he would take what measures he deemed necessary to safeguard the ship and to continue the mission - whose real purpose he alone knew, and which his human colleagues could never have guessed.\n\nPoole and Bowman had often humorously referred to themselves as caretakers or janitors aboard a ship that could really run itself. They would have been astonished, and more than a little indignant, to discover how much truth that jest contained.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand the story by adding 12 sentences. Context: May include pre-existing characters and lore.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Week after week, running like a streetcar along the tracks of her utterly predetermined orbit, Discovery swept past the orbit of Mars and on toward Jupiter.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Unlike all the vessels traversing the skies or seas of Earth, she required not even the most minute touch on the controls.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Her course was fixed by the laws of gravitation; there were no uncharted shoals, no dangerous reefs on which she would run aground.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nor was there the slightest danger of collision with another ship; for there was no vessel - at least of Man's making - anywhere between her and the infinitely distant stars.\n\nYet the space which she was now entering was far from empty. Ahead lay a no-man's land threaded by the paths of more than a million asteroids - less than ten thousand of which had ever had their orbits precisely determined by astronomers. Only four were over a hundred miles in diameter; the vast majority were merely giant boulders, trundling aimlessly through space.\n\nThere was nothing that could be done about them; though even the smallest could completely destroy the ship if it slammed into it at tens of thousands of miles an hour, the chance of this happening was negligible.\n\nOn the average, there was only one asteroid in a volume a million miles on a side; that Discovery should also happen to occupy this same point, and at the same time, was the very least of her crew's worries.\n\nOn Day 86 they were due to make their closest approach to any known asteroid, It had no name - merely the number 7794 - and was a fifty-yard-diameter rock that had been detected by the Lunar Observatory in 1997 and immediately forgotten except by the patient computers of the Minor Planet Bureau.\n\nWhen Bowman came on duty, Hal promptly reminded hint of the forthcoming encounter - not that he was likely to have forgotten the only scheduled in-flight event of the entire voyage, The track of the asteroid against the stars, and its coordinates at the moment of closest approach, had already been printed out on the display screens. Listed also were the observations to be made or attempted; they were going to be very busy when 7794 flashed past them only nine hundred miles away, at a relative speed of eighty thousand miles an hour.\n\nWhen Bowman asked Hal for the telescopic display, a sparsely sprinkled star field flashed onto the screen. There was nothing that looked like an asteroid; all the images, even under the highest magnification, were dimensionless points of light.\n\n\"Give me the target reticule,\" asked Bowman.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Immediately four faint, narrow lines appeared, bracketing a tiny and undistinguished star.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stared at it for many minutes, wondering if Hal could possibly be mistaken; then he saw that the pinpoint of light was moving, with barely perceptible slowness, against the background of the stars. It might still be half a million miles away - but its movement proved that, as cosmic distances went, it was almost near enough to touch.\n\nWhen Poole joined him on the control deck six hours later, 7794 was hundreds of times more brilliant, and was moving so swiftly against its background that there was no question of its identity. And it was no longer a point of light; it had begun to show a clearly visible disk.\n\nThey stared at that passing pebble in the sky with the emotions of sailors on a long sea voyage, skirting a coast on which they cannot land. Though they were perfectly well aware that 7794 was only a lifeless, airless chunk of rock, this knowledge scarcely affected their feelings. It was the only solid matter they would meet this side of Jupiter - still two hundred million miles away.\n\nThrough the high-powered telescope, they could see that the asteroid was very irregular, and turning slowly end over end. Sometimes it looked like a flattened sphere, sometimes it resembled a roughly shaped block; its rotation period was just over two minutes. There were mottled patches of light and shade distributed apparently at random over its surface, and often it sparkled like a distant window as planes or outcroppings of crystalline material flashed in the sun.\n\nIt was racing past them at almost thirty miles a second; they had only a few frantic minutes in which to observe it closely. The automatic cameras took dozens of photographs, the navigation radar's returning echoes were carefully recorded for future analysis - and there was just time for a single impact probe.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 13 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The probe carried no instruments; none could survive a collision at such cosmic speeds. It was merely a small slug of metal, shot out from Discovery on a course which should intersect that of the asteroid.\n\nAs the seconds before impact ticked away, Poole and Bowman waited with mounting tension. The experiment, simple though it was in principle, taxed the accuracy of their equipment to the limits. They were aiming at a hundred-foot-diameter target, from a distance of thousands of miles.\n\nAgainst the darkened portion of the asteroid there was a sudden, dazzling explosion of light. The tiny slug had impacted at meteoric speed; in a fraction of a second all its energy had been transformed into heat. A puff of incandescent gas had erupted briefly into space; aboard Discovery, the cameras were recording the rapidly fading spectral lines. Back on Earth, experts would analyze them, looking for the telltale signatures of glowing atoms. And so, for the first time, the composition of an asteroid's crust would be determined.\n\nWithin an hour, 7794 was a dwindling star, showing no trace of a disk. When Bowman next came on watch it had vanished completely.\n\nThey were alone again; they would remain alone, until the outermost of Jupiter's moons came swimming up toward them, three months from now.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "same energy as 2001_ a space odyssey, keep writing. story might have ongoing elements",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "[ Birthday Party ]\n\nThe familiar strains of \"Happy Birthday,\" hurled across seven hundred million miles of space at the velocity of light, died away among the vision screens and instrumentation of the control deck. The Poole family, grouped rather self-consciously round the birthday cake on Earth, lapsed into a sudden silence.\n\nThen Mr. Poole, Senior, said gruffly: \"Well, Frank, can't think of anything else to say at the moment, except that our thoughts are with you, and we're wishing you the happiest of birthdays.\"\n\n\"Take care, darling,\" Mrs. Poole interjected tearfully. \"God bless you.\"\n\nThere was a chorus of \"good-byes,\" and the vision screen went blank.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "How strange to think, Poole told himself, that all this had happened more than an hour ago; by now his family would have dispersed again and its members would be miles from home.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But in a way that time lag, though it could be frustrating, was also a blessing in disguise.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like every man of his age, Poole took it for granted that he could talk instantly, to anyone on Earth, whenever he pleased. Now that this was no longer true, the psychological impact was profound. He had moved into a new dimension of remoteness, and almost all emotional links had been stretched beyond the yield point.\n\n\"Sorry to interrupt the festivities,\" said Hal, \"but we have a problem.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Bowman and Poole asked simultaneously.\n\n\"I am having difficulty in maintaining contact with Earth. The trouble is in the AE-35 unit. My Fault Prediction Center reports that it may fail within seventy-two hours.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We'll take care of it,\" Bowman replied.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Let's see the optical alignment.\"\n\n\"Here it is, Dave. It's still O.K. at the moment.\"\n\nOn the display screen appeared a perfect half-moon, very brilliant against a background almost free of stars. It was covered with clouds, and showed not one geographical feature that could be recognized. Indeed, at first glance it could be easily mistaken for Venus.\n\nBut not at a second one, for there beside it was the real Moon which Venus did not possess - a quarter the size of Earth, and in exactly the same phase.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was easy to imagine that the two bodies were mother and child, as many astronomers had believed, before the evidence of the lunar rocks had proved beyond doubt that the Moon had never been part of Earth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Poole and Bowman studied the screen in silence for half a minute.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "This image was coming to them from the long-focus TV camera mounted on the rim of the big radio dish; the cross-wires at its center showed the exact orientation of the antenna.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Unless the narrow pencil beam was pointed precisely at Earth, they could neither receive nor transmit.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Messages in both directions would miss their target and would shoot, unheard and unseen, out through the Solar System and into the emptiness beyond.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If they were ever received, it would not be for centuries - and not by men.\n\n\"Do you know where the trouble is?\" asked Bowman.\n\n\"It's intermittent and I can't localize it. But it appears to be in the AE-35 unit.\"\n\n\"What procedure do you suggest?\"\n\n\"The best thing would be to replace the unit with a spare, so that we can check it over.\"\n\n\"O.K. - let us have the hard copy.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The information flashed on the display screen; simultaneously, a sheet of paper slid out of the slot immediately beneath it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Despite all the electronic read-outs, there were times when good old-fashioned printed material was the most convenient form of record.\n\nBowman studied the diagrams for a moment, then whistled.\n\n\"You might have told us,\" he said. \"This means going outside the ship.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Hal replied. \"I assumed you knew that the AE-35 unit was on the antenna mounting.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I probably did, a year ago. But there are eight thousand subsystems aboard. Anyway, it looks a straightforward job. We only have to unlock a panel and put in a new unit.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That suits me fine,\" said Poole, who was the crew member designated for routine extravehicular activity.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc: Use the word 'failure' 2 time(s) - this is a strict requirement)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I could do with a change of scenery. Nothing personal, of course.\"\n\n\"Let's see if Mission Control agrees,\" said Bowman. He sat still for a few seconds, marshaling his thoughts, then started to dictate a message.\n\n\"Mission Control, this is X-ray-Delta-One. At two-zero-four-five, on-board fault prediction center in our niner-triple-zero computer showed Alpha Echo three five unit as probable failure within seventy-two hours. Request check your telemetry monitoring and suggest you review unit in your ship systems simulator. Also, confirm your approval our plan to go EVA and replace Alpha Echo three five unit prior to failure. Mission Control, this is X-ray-Delta-One, two-one-zero-three transmission concluded.\"\n\nThrough years of practice, Bowman could switch at a moment's notice to this jargon - which someone had once christened \"Technish\" - and back again to normal speech, without clashing his mental gears. Now there was nothing to do but to wait for the confirmation, which would take at least two hours as the signals made the round trip past the orbits of Jupiter and Mars.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "// Include exactly 4 instance(s) of the word 'mission'",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It came while Bowman was trying, without much success, to beat Hal at one of the geometrical pattern games stored in his memory.\n\n\"X-ray-Delta-One, this is Mission Control, acknowledging your two-one-zero-three. We are reviewing telemetric information on our mission simulator and will advise.\n\n\"Roger your plan to go EVA and replace Alpha-Echo three-five unit prior to possible failure. We are working on test procedures for you to apply to faulty unit.\"\n\nThe serious business having been completed, the Mission Controller reverted to normal English.\n\n\"Sorry you fellows are having a bit of trouble, and we don't want to add to your woes. But if it's convenient to you prior to EVA, we have a request from Public Information. Could you do a brief recording for general release, outlining the situation and explaining just what the AE-35 does. Make it as reassuring as you can. We could do it, of course - but it will be much more convincing in your words. Hope this won't interfere too badly with your social life. X-ray-Delta-One, this is Mission Control, two-one-five-five, transmission concluded.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bowman could not help smiling at the request.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There were times when Earth showed a curious insensitivity and lack of tact.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Make it reassuring,\" indeed!",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When Poole joined him at the end of his sleep period, they spent ten minutes composing and polishing the reply.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the early stages of the mission, there had been countless requests from all the news media for interviews, discussions - almost anything that they cared to say.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But as the weeks drifted uneventfully past, and the time lag increased from a few minutes to over an hour, interest had gradually slackened.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Since the excitement of the Jupiter fly-by, over a month ago, they had made only three or four tapes for general release.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Mission Control, this is X-ray-Delta-One.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here is your press statement.\n\n\"Earlier today, a minor technical problem occurred. Our HAL-9001 computer predicted the failure of the AE-35 unit.\n\n\"This is a small but vital component of the communication system. It keeps our main antenna aimed at Earth to within a few thousandths of a degree. This accuracy is required, since at our present distance of more than seven hundred million miles, Earth is only a rather faint star, and our very narrow radio beam could easily miss it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The antenna is kept constantly tracking Earth by motors controlled from the central computer. But those motors get their instructions via the AE-35 unit. You might compare it to a nerve center in the body, which translates the brain's instructions to the muscles of a limb. If the nerve fails to pass on the correct signals, the limb becomes useless. In our case, a breakdown of the AE-35 unit could mean that the antenna will start pointing at random. This was a common trouble with the deep-space probes of the last century.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They often reached other planets, then failed to send back any information because their antenna couldn't locate Earth.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 7 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word restriction: Use 'back-up' 2 time(s) only",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We don't know the nature of the fault yet, but the situation is not at all serious, and there is no need for alarm. We have two back-up AE-35s, each of which has an operational life expectancy of twenty years, so the chance that a second will fail during the course of this mission is' negligible. Also, if we can diagnose the present trouble, we may be able to repair the number one unit.\n\n\"Frank Poole, who is specially qualified for this type of work, will go outside the ship and replace the faulty unit with the back-up. At the same time, he'll take the opportunity of checking the hull and repairing some micropunctures that have been too small to merit a special EVA.\n\n\"Apart from this minor problem, the mission is still going uneventfully and should continue in the same manner.\n\n\"Mission Control, this is X-ray-Delta-One, two-one-zero-four, transmission concluded.\"",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Ive got a bit of writers block, im gonna send you something then keep it going forty-nine sentences at a time, also im going for a 2001_ a space odyssey sorta thing. heads up - might drop you in mid-story with existing characters",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Discovery's extravehicular capsules or \"space pods\" were spheres about nine feet in diameter, and the operator sat behind a bay window which gave him a splendid view. The main rocket drive produced an acceleration of one-fifth of a gravity - just sufficient to hover on the Moon - while small attitude-control nozzles allowed for steering. From an area immediately beneath the bay window sprouted two sets of articulated metal arms or \"waldoes,\" one for heavy duty, the other for delicate manipulation. There was also an extensible turret carrying a variety of power tools, such as screwdrivers, jack-hammers, saws, and drills.\n\nSpace pods were not the most elegant means of transport devised by man, but they were absolutely essential for construction and maintenance work in vacuum. They were usually christened with feminine names, perhaps in recognition of the fact that their personalities were sometimes slightly unpredictable. Discovery's trio were Anna, Betty, and Clara.\n\nOnce he had put on his personal pressure suit - his last line of defense - and climbed inside the pod, Poole spent ten minutes carefully checking the controls. He burped the steering jets, flexed the waldoes, reconfirmed oxygen, fuel, power reserve. Then, when he was completely satisfied, he spoke to Hal over the radio circuit. Though Bowman was standing by on the control deck, he would not interfere unless there was some obvious mistake or malfunction.\n\n\"This is Betty. Start pumping sequence.\"\n\n\"Pumping sequence started,\" repeated Hal. At once, Poole could hear the throbbing of the pumps as precious air was sucked out of the lock chamber. Presently, the thin metal of the pod's external shell made crinkling, crackling noises, then, after about five minutes, Hal reported:\n\n\"Pumping sequence concluded.\"\n\nPoole made a final check of his tiny instrument panel. Everything was perfectly normal.\n\n\"Open outer door,\" he ordered.\n\nAgain Hal repeated his instructions; at any stage, Poole had only to call \"Hold!\" and the computer would stop the sequence immediately.\n\nAhead, the walls of the ship slid apart. Poole felt the pod rock briefly as the last thin traces of air rushed into space. Then he was looking out at the stars - and, as it happened, at the tiny, golden disk of Saturn, still four hundred million miles away.\n\n\"Commence pod ejection.\"\n\nVery slowly, the rail from which the pod was hanging extended itself out through the open door until the vehicle was suspended just beyond the hull of the ship.\n\nPoole gave a half-second burst on the main jet and the pod slid gently off the rail, becoming at last an independent vehicle pursuing its own orbit around the Sun. He now had no connection with Discovery - not even a safety line. The pods seldom gave trouble; and even if he got stranded, Bowman could easily come and rescue him.\n\nBetty responded smoothly to the control; he let her drift outward for a hundred feet, then checked her forward momentum and spun her round so that he was looking back at the ship. Then he began his tour of the pressure hull.\n\nHis first target was a fused area about half an inch across, with a tiny central crater. The particle of dust that had impacted here at over a hundred thousand miles an hour was certainly smaller than a pinhead, and its enormous kinetic energy had vaporized it instantly. 'As was often the case, the crater looked as if it had been caused by an explosion from inside the ship; at these velocities, materials behaved in strange ways and the laws of common-sense mechanics seldom applied.\n\nPoole examined the area carefully, then sprayed it with sealant from a pressurized container in the pod's general-purpose kit. The white, rubbery fluid spread over the metal skin, hiding the crater from view. The leak blew one large bubble, which burst when it was about six inches across, then a much smaller one, then it subsided as the fast-setting cement did its work, He watched it intently for several minutes, but there was no further sign of activity. However, to make doubly certain, he sprayed on a second layer; then he set off toward the antenna.\n\nIt took him some time to orbit Discovery's spherical pressure hull, for he never let the pod build up a speed of more than a few feet a second. He was in no hurry, and it was dangerous to move at a high velocity so near the ship. He had to keep a sharp lookout for the various sensors and instrument booms that projected from the hull at unlikely places, and he also had to be careful with his own jet blast. It could do considerable damage if it happened to hit some of the more fragile equipment.\n\nWhen at last he reached the long-range antenna, he surveyed the situation carefully. The big twenty-foot-diameter bowl appeared to be aimed directly at the Sun, for the Earth was now almost in line with the solar disk. The antenna mounting with all its orientation gear was therefore in total darkness, hidden in the shadow of the great metal saucer.\n\nPoole had approached it from the rear; he had been careful not to go in front of the shallow parabolic reflector, lest Betty interrupt the beam and cause a momentary, but annoying, loss of contact with Earth. He could not see anything of the equipment he had come to service until he switched on the pod's spotlights and banished the shadows.\n\nBeneath that small metal plate lay the cause of the trouble. The plate was secured by four locknuts, and as the entire AE-35 unit had been designed for easy replacement, Poole did not anticipate any problems.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was obvious, however, that he could not do the job while he remained in the space pod. Not only was it risky to maneuver so close to the delicate, and even spidery, framework of the antenna, but Betty's control jets could easily buckle the paper-thin reflecting surface of the big radio mirror. He would have to park the pod twenty feet away and go out in his suit. In any event, he could remove the unit much more quickly with his gloved hands than with Betty's remote manipulators.\n\nAll this he reported carefully to Bowman, who double-checked every stage in the operation before it was carried out. Though this was a simple, routine job, nothing could be taken for granted in space, and no detail must be overlooked. In extravehicular activities, there was no such thing as a \"minor\" mistake.\n\nHe received the O.K. for the procedure, and parked the pod some twenty feet away from the base of the antenna support. There was no danger that it would drift off into space; nevertheless, he clamped a manipulator hand over one of the many short sections of ladder rung strategically mounted on the outer hull.\n\nThen he checked the systems of his pressure suit, and, when he was quite satisfied, bled the air out of the pod. As Betty's atmosphere hissed away into the vacuum of space, a cloud of ice crystals formed briefly around him, and the stars were momentarily dimmed.\n\nThere was one thing more to do before he left the pod. He switched over from manual to remote operation, putting Betty now under control of Hal. It was a standard safety precaution; though he was still secured to Betty by an immensely strong spring-loaded cord little thicker than cotton, even the best safety lines had been known to fail. He would look a fool if he needed his vehicle - and was unable to call it to his assistance by passing instructions to Hal.\n\nThe door of the pod swung open, and he drifted slowly out into the silence of space, his safety line unreeling behind him. Take things easy - never move quickly - stop and think - these were the rules for extravehicular activity. If one obeyed them, there was never any trouble.\n\nHe grabbed one of Betty's external handholds, and removed the spare AE-35 unit from the carry-pouch where it had been stowed, kangaroo fashion. He did not stop to collect any of the pod's collection of tools, most of which were not designed for use by human bands. All the adjustable wrenches and keys he was likely to need were already attached to the belt of his suit.\n\nWith a gentle push, he launched himself toward the gimbaled mounting of the big dish that loomed like a giant saucer between him and the Sun. His own double shadow, thrown by Betty's spotlights, danced across the convex surface in fantastic patterns as he drifted down the twin beams. But here and there, he was surprised to notice, the rear of the great radio mirror sparkled with dazzlingly brilliant pinpoints of light.\n\nHe puzzled over these for the few seconds of his silent approach, then realized what they were. During the voyage, the reflector must have been penetrated many times by micrometeors; he was seeing the sunlight blazing through the tiny craters. They were all far too small to have affected the system's performance appreciably.\n\nAs he was moving very slowly, he broke the gentle impact with his outstretched arm, and grabbed hold of the antenna mounting before he could rebound. He quickly hooked his safety belt to the nearest attachment; that would give him something to brace against when he used his tools. Then he paused, reported the situation to Bowman, and considered his next step.\n\nThere was one minor problem; he was standing - or floating - in his own light, and it was hard to see the AE-35 unit in the shadow he cast. So he ordered Hal to swing the spots off to one side, and after a little experimenting got a more uniform illumination from secondary light reflected off the back of the antenna dish.\n\nFor a few seconds, he studied the small metal hatch with its four wire-secured locking nuts. Then, muttering to himself, \"Tampering by unauthorized personnel invalidates the manufacturer's guarantee,\" he snipped the wires and started to untwist the nuts. They were a standard size, fitting the zero-torque wrench that he carried. The tool's internal spring mechanism would absorb the reaction as the nuts were unthreaded, so that the operator would have no tendency to spin around in reverse.\n\nThe four nuts came off without any trouble, and Poole stowed them carefully away in a convenient pouch. (One day, somebody had predicted, Earth would have a ring like Saturn's, composed entirely of lost bolts, fasteners, and even tools that had escaped from careless orbital construction workers.) The metal cover was a little sticky, and for a moment he was afraid it might have cold-welded into place; but after a few taps it came loose, and he secured it to the antenna mounting by a large crocodile clip.\n\nNow he could see the electronic circuitry of the AE-35 unit. It was in the form of a thin slab, about the size of a postcard, gripped by a slot just large enough to hold it. The unit was secured in place by two locking bars, and had a small handle so that it could be easily removed.\n\nBut it was still operating, feeding the antenna the impulses that kept it aimed at the far-off pinpoint of Earth. If it was pulled out now, all control would be lost, and the dish would slam round to its neutral or zero-azimuth position, pointing along the axis of Discovery. And this could be dangerous; it might crash into him as it rotated.\n\nTo avoid this particular hazard, it was only necessary to cut off power to the control system; then the antenna could not move, unless Poole knocked against it himself. There was no danger of losing Earth during the few minutes it would take him to replace the unit; their target would not have shifted appreciably against the background of the stars in such a brief interval of time.\n\n\"Hal,\" Poole called over the radio circuit, \"I am about to remove the unit. Switch off all control power to the antenna system.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Antenna control power off,\" answered Hal.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 21 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here goes. I'm pulling the unit out now.\"\n\nThe card slipped out of its slot with no difficulty; it did not jam, and none of the dozens of sliding contacts stuck. Within a minute, the spare was in place.\n\nBut Poole was taking no chances. He pushed himself gently away from the antenna mount, just in case the big dish went wild when power was restored. When he was safely out of range, he called to Hal: \"The new unit should be operational. Restore control power.\"\n\n\"Power on,\" answered Hal. The antenna remained rock steady.\n\n\"Carry out fault prediction tests.\"\n\nNow microscopic pulses would be bouncing through the complex circuitry of the unit, probing for possible failures, testing the myriads of components to see that they all lay within their specified tolerances. This had been done, of course, a score of times before the unit had ever left the factory; but that was two years ago, and more than half a billion miles away. It was often impossible to see how solid-state electronic components could fail; yet they did.\n\n\"Circuit fully operational,\" reported Hal after only ten seconds. In that time, he carried out as many tests as a small army of human inspectors.\n\n\"Fine,\" said Poole with satisfaction. \"Now replacing the cover.\"\n\nThis was often the most dangerous part of an extravehicular operation: when a job was finished and it was merely a matter of tidying up and getting back inside the ship - that was when the mistakes were made. But Frank Poole would not have been on this mission if he had not been careful and conscientious. He took his time, and though one of the locking nuts almost got away from him, he caught it before it had traveled more than a few feet.\n\nFifteen minutes later he was jetting back into the space-pod garage, quietly confident that here was one job that need not be done again.\n\nIn this, however, he was sadly mistaken.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Ive got a bit of writers block, im gonna send you something then keep it going 16 sentences at a time, also im going for a 2001_ a space odyssey sorta thing. heads up - might drop you in mid-story with existing characters",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you mean to say,\" exclaimed Frank Poole, more surprised than annoyed, \"that I did all that work for nothing?\"\n\n\"Seems like it,\" answered Bowman. \"The unit checks out perfectly. Even under two hundred percent overload, there's no fault prediction indicated.\"\n\nThe two men were standing in the tiny workshop-cum-lab in the carrousel, which was more convenient than the space-pod garage for minor repairs and exanimations. There was no danger, here, of meeting blobs of hot solder drifting down the breeze, or of completely losing small items of equipment that had decided to go into orbit. Such things could - and did - happen in the zero-gee environment of the pod bay.\n\nThe thin, card-sized plate of the AE-35 unit lay on the bench under a powerful magnifying lens. It was plugged into a standard connection frame, from which a neat bundle of multicolored wire led to an automatic test set, no bigger than an ordinary desk computer. To check any unit it was only necessary to connect it up, slip in the appropriate card from the \"trouble-shooting\" library, and press a button. Usually the exact location of the fault would be indicated on a small display screen, with recommendations for action.\n\n\"Try it yourself,\" said Bowman, in a somewhat frustrated voice. Poole turned the OVERLOAD SELECT switch to X-2 and jabbed the TEST button. At once, the screen flashed the notice: UNIT OK.\n\n\"I suppose we could go on turning up the juice until we burned the thing out,\" he said, \"but that would prove nothing. What do you make of it?\"\n\n\"Hal's internal fault predictor could have made a mistake.\"\n\n\"It's more likely that our test rig has slipped up. Anyway, better safe than sorry. It's just as well that we replaced the unit, if there's the slightest doubt.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bowman unclipped the wafer of circuitry, and held it up to the light.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The partly translucent material was veined with an intricate network of wiring and spotted with dimly visible microcomponents, so that it looked like some piece of abstract art.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We can't take any chances - after all, this is our link with Earth. I'll file it as N/G and drop it in the junk store. Someone else can worry about it, when we get home.\"\n\nBut the worrying was to start long before that, with the next transmission from Earth.\n\n\"X-ray-Delta-One, this is Mission Control, reference our two-one-five-five. We appear to have a slight problem.\n\n\"Your report that there is nothing wrong with the Alpha Echo three five unit agrees with our diagnosis. The fault could lie in the associated antenna circuits, but if so that should be apparent from other tests.\n\n\"There is a third possibility, which may be more serious. Your computer may have made an error in predicting the fault. Both our own nine-triple-zeros agree in suggesting this, on the basis of their information. This is not necessarily cause for alarm, in view of the back-up systems we have, but we would like you to watch out for any further deviations from nominal performance. We have suspected several minor irregularities in the past few days, but none have been important enough for remedial action, and they have shown no obvious pattern from which we can draw any conclusions. We are running further tests with both our computers and will report as soon as the results are available. We repeat that there is no need for alarm; the worst that can happen is that we may have to disconnect your nine-triple-zero temporarily for program analysis, and hand over control to one of our computers. The time lag will introduce problems, but our feasibility studies indicate that Earth control is perfectly satisfactory at this stage of the mission.\n\n\"X-ray-Delta-One, this is Mission Control, two-one-five-six, transmission concluded.\"\n\nFrank Poole, who was on watch when the message came in, thought this over in silence.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He waited to see if there was any comment from Hal, but the computer did not attempt to challenge the implied accusation.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(hey for the next response, <<USAGE LIMIT>>: 'routine' must be used 2 times)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Well, if Hal would not raise the subject, he did not propose to do so either.\n\nIt was almost time for the morning changeover, and normally he would wait until Bowman joined him on the control deck. But today he broke this routine, and made his way back to the carrousel.\n\nBowman was already up, pouring himself some coffee from the dispenser, when Poole greeted him with a rather worried \"good morning.\" After all these months in space, they still thought in terms of the normal twenty-four-hour cycle - though they had long since forgotten the days of the week.\n\n\"Good morning,\" replied Bowman. \"How's it going?\" Poole helped himself to coffee. \"Pretty well. Are you reasonably awake?\"\n\n\"I'm fine. What's up?\"\n\nBy this time, each knew at once when anything was amiss. The slightest interruption of the normal routine was a sign that had to be watched.\n\n\"Well,\" Poole answered slowly. \"Mission Control has just dropped a small bomb on us.\" He lowered his voice, like a doctor discussing an illness in front of the patient. \"We may have a slight case of hypochondria aboard.\"\n\nPerhaps Bowman was not fully awake, after all; it took him several seconds to get the point.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Then he said \"Oh-I see. What else did they tell you?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 10 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That there was no cause for alarm. They said that twice, which rather spoiled the effect as far as I was concerned. And that they were considering a temporary switchover to Earth control while they ran a program analysis.\"\n\nThey both knew, of course, that Hal was hearing every word, but they could not help these polite circumlocutions. Hal was their colleague, and they did not wish to embarrass him. Yet at this stage it did not seem necessary to discuss the matter in private.\n\nBowman finished his breakfast in silence, while Poole toyed with the empty coffee container. They were both thinking furiously, but there was nothing more to say.\n\nThey could only wait for the next report from Mission Control - and wonder if Hal would bring up the subject himself. Whatever happened, the atmosphere aboard the ship had subtly altered. There was a sense of strain in the air - a feeling that, for the first time, something might be going wrong.\n\nDiscovery was no longer a happy ship.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand the story by adding 54 sentences. Context: May include pre-existing characters and lore.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nowadays, one could always tell when Hal was about to make an unscheduled announcement. Routine, automatic reports, or replies to questions that had been put to him, had no preliminaries; but when he was initiating his own outputs there would be a brief electronic throat-clearing. It was an idiosyncrasy that he had acquired during the last few weeks; later, if it became annoying, they might do something about it. But it was really quite useful, since it alerted his audience to stand by for something unexpected.\n\nPoole was asleep, and Bowman was reading on the control deck, when Hal announced:\n\n\"Er - Dave, I have a report for you.\"\n\n\"What's up?\"\n\n\"We have another bad AE-35 unit. My fault predictor indicates failure within twenty-four hours.\"\n\nBowman put down his book and stared thoughtfully at the computer console. He knew, of course, that Hal was not really there, whatever that meant. If the computer's personality could be said to have any location in space, it was back in the sealed room that contained the labyrinth of interconnected memory units and processing grids, near the central axis of the carrousel. But there was a kind of psychological compulsion always to look toward the main console lens when one addressed Hal on the control deck, as if one were speaking to him face to face. Any other attitude smacked of discourtesy.\n\n\"I don't understand it, Hal. Two units can't blow in a couple of days.\"\n\n\"It does seem strange, Dave. But I assure you there is an impending failure.\"\n\n\"Let me see the tracking alignment display.\"\n\nHe knew perfectly well that this would prove nothing, but he wanted time to think. The expected report from Mission Control had still not arrived; this might be the moment to do a little tactful probing.\n\nThere was the familiar view of Earth, now waxing past the half-moon phase as it swept toward the far side of the Sun and began to turn its full daylight face toward them. It was perfectly centered on the cross-wires; the thin pencil of the beam still linked Discovery to her world of origin. As, of course, Bowman knew it must do. If there had been any break in communication, the alarm would already have sounded.\n\n\"Have you any idea,\" he said, \"what's causing the fault?\"\n\nIt was unusual for Hal to pause so long. Then he answered:\n\n\"Not really, Dave. As I reported earlier, I can't localize the trouble.\"\n\n\"You're quite certain,\" said Bowman cautiously, \"that you haven't made a mistake? You know that we tested the other AB-35 unit thoroughly, and there was nothing wrong with it.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know that. But I can assure you that there is a fault. If it's not in the unit, it may be in the entire subsystem.\"\n\nBowman drummed his fingers on the console. Yes, that was possible, though it might be very difficult to prove - until a breakdown actually occurred and pinpointed the trouble.\n\n\"Well, I'll report it to Mission Control and we'll see what they advise.\" He paused, but there was no reaction.\n\n\"Hal,\" he continued, \"is something bothering you - something that might account for this problem?\"\n\nAgain there was that unusual delay. Then Hal answered, in his normal tone of voice:\n\n\"Look, Dave, I know you're trying to be helpful. But the fault is either in the antenna system - or in your test procedures. My information processing is perfectly normal. If you check my record, you'll find it completely free from error.\"\n\n\"I know all about your service record, Hal - but that doesn't prove you're right this time. Anyone can make mistakes.\"\n\n\"I don't want to insist on it, Dave, but I am incapable of making an error.\"\n\nThere was no safe answer to that; Bowman gave up the argument.\n\n\"All right, Hal,\" he said, rather hastily. \"I understand your point of view. We'll leave it at that.\"\n\nHe felt like adding \"and please forget the whole matter.\" But that, of course, was the one thing that Hal could never do.\n\nIt was unusual for Mission Control to waste radio bandwidth on vision, when a speech circuit with teletype confirmation was all that was really necessary. And the face that appeared on the screen was not that of the usual controller; it was the Chief Programmer, Dr. Simonson. Poole and Bowman knew at once that this could only mean trouble.\n\n\"Hello, X-ray-Delta-One - this is Mission Control. We have completed the analysis of your AE-35 difficulty, and both our Hal Nine Thousands are in agreement. The report you gave in your transmission two-one-four-six of a second failure prediction confirms the diagnosis.\n\n\"As we suspected, the fault does not lie in the AE-35 unit, and there is no need to replace it again. The trouble lies in the prediction circuits, and we believe that it indicates a programming conflict which we can only resolve if you disconnect your Nine Thousand and switch to Earth Control Mode. You will therefore take the following steps, beginning at 2200 Ship Time -\"\n\nThe voice of Mission Control faded out. At the same moment, the Alert sounded, forming a wailing background to Hal's \"Condition Yellow! Condition Yellow!\"\n\n\"What's wrong?\" called Bowman, though he had already guessed the answer.\n\n\"The AE-35 unit has failed, as I predicted.\"\n\n\"Let me see the alignment display.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Add this exact quote somewhere appropriate: \"You'll have it on the test bench in twenty minutes, I promise you.\"",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For the first time since the beginning of the voyage, the picture had changed. Earth had begun to drift from the cross-wires; the radio antenna was no longer pointing toward its target.\n\nPoole brought his fist down on the alarm cutout, and the wailing ceased. In the sudden silence that descended upon the control deck, the two men looked at each other with mingled embarrassment and concern.\n\n\"Well I'm damned,\" said Bowman at last.\n\n\"So Hal was right all the time.\"\n\n\"Seems that way. We'd better apologize.\"\n\n\"There's no need to do that,\" interjected Hal. \"Naturally, I'm not pleased that the AE-35 unit has failed, but I hope this restores your confidence in my reliability.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry about this misunderstanding, Hal,\" replied Bowman, rather contritely.\n\n\"Is your confidence in me fully restored?\"\n\n\"Of course it is, Hal.\"\n\n\"Well, that's a relief. You know that I have the greatest possible enthusiasm for this mission.\"\n\n\"I'm sure of it. Now please let me have the manual antenna control.\"\n\n\"Here it is.\"\n\nBowman did not really expect this to work, but it was worth trying. On the alignment display, Earth had now drifted completely off the screen. A few seconds later, as he juggled with the controls, it reappeared; with great difficulty, he managed to jockey it toward the central crosswires. For an instant, as the beam came into line, contact was resumed and a blurred Dr. Simonson was saying \"... please notify us immediately if Circuit K King R Rob.\" Then, once again, there was only the meaningless murmuring of the universe.\n\n\"I can't hold it,\" said Bowman, after several more attempts. \"It's bucking like a bronco - there seems to be a spurious control signal throwing it off.\"\n\n\"Well - what do we do now?\"\n\nPoole's question was not one that could be easily answered. They were cut off from Earth, but that in itself did not affect the safety of the ship, and he could think of many ways in which communication could be restored. If the worst came to the worst, they could jam the antenna in a fixed position and use the whole ship to aim it. That would be tricky, and a confounded nuisance when they were starting their terminal maneuvers - but it could be done, if all else failed.\n\nHe hoped that such extreme measures would not be necessary. There was still one spare AE-35 unit - and possibly a second, since they had removed the first unit before it had actually broken down. But they dared not use either of these until they had found what was wrong with the system. If a new unit was plugged in, it would probably burn out at once.\n\nIt was a commonplace situation, familiar to every householder. One does not replace a blown fuse - until one knows just why it has blown.\n\nFrank Poole had been through the whole routine before, but he took nothing for granted - in space that was a good recipe for suicide. He made his usual thorough check of Betty and her supply of expendables; though he would be outside for no more than thirty minutes, he made sure that there was the normal twenty-four-hour supply of everything, Then he told Hal to open the airlock, and jetted out into the abyss.\n\nThe ship looked exactly as it had done on his last excursion - with one important difference. Before, the big saucer of the long-range antenna had been pointing back along the invisible road that Discovery had traveled - back toward the Earth, circling so close to the warm fires of the Sun.\n\nNow, with no directing signals to orientate it, the shallow dish had automatically set itself in the neutral position. It was aimed forward along the axis of the ship - and, therefore, pointing very close to the brilliant beacon of Saturn, still months away. Poole wondered how many more problems would have arisen by the time Discovery reached her still far-distant goal. If he looked carefully, he could just see that Saturn was not a perfect disk; on either side was something that no unaided human eye had ever seen before - the slight oblateness caused by the presence of the rings. How wonderful it would be, he told himself, when that incredible system of orbiting dust and ice filled their sky, and Discovery had become an eternal moon of Saturn! But that achievement would be in vain, unless they could reestablish communication with Earth.\n\nOnce again he parked Betty some twenty feet from the base of the antenna support, and switched control over to Hal before opening up.\n\n\"Going outside now,\" he reported to Bowman.\n\n\"Everything under control.\"\n\n\"I hope you're right. I'm anxious to see that unit.\"\n\n\"You'll have it on the test bench in twenty minutes, I promise you.\"\n\nThere was silence for some time as Poole completed his leisurely drift toward the antenna. Then Bowman, standing by on the control deck, heard various puffings and gruntings.\n\n\"May have to go back on that promise; one of these locknuts has stuck. I must have tightened it too much - whoops - here it comes!\"\n\nThere was another long silence; then Poole called out:\n\n\"Hal, swing the pod light round twenty degrees left - thanks - that's O.K.\"\n\nThe very faintest of warning bells sounded somewhere far down in the depths of Bowman's consciousness.",
"loss": true
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"value": "There was something strange - not really alarming, just unusual. He worried over it for a few seconds before he pinpointed the cause.\n\nHal had executed the order, but he had not acknowledged it, as he invariably did. When Poole had finished, they'd have to look into this.\n\nOut on the antenna mounting, Poole was too busy to notice anything unusual. He had gripped the wafer of circuitry with his gloved hands, and was worrying it out of its slot.\n\nIt came loose, and he held it up in the pale sunlight. \"Here's the little bastard,\" he said to the universe in general and Bowman in particular. \"It still looks perfectly O.K. to me.\"\n\nThen he stopped. A sudden movement had caught his eye - out here, where no movement was possible.\n\nHe looked up in alarm. The pattern of illumination from the space pod's twin spotlights, which he had been using to fill in the shadows cast by the sun, had started to shift around him.\n\nPerhaps Betty had come adrift; he might have been careless in anchoring her. Then, with an astonishment so great that it left no room for fear, he saw that the space pod was coming directly toward him, under full thrust.\n\nThe sight was so incredible that it froze his normal pattern of reflexes; he made no attempt to avoid the onrushing monster. At the last moment, he recovered his voice and shouted: \"Hal! Full braking -\" It was too late.\n\nAt the moment of impact, Betty was still moving quite slowly; she had not been built for high accelerations.\n\nBut even at a mere ten miles an hour, half a ton of mass can be very lethal, on Earth or in space.\n\nInside Discovery, that truncated shout over the radio made Bowman start so violently that only the restraining straps held him in his seat.\n\n\"What's happened, Frank?\" be called.\n\nThere was no answer.\n\nHe called again. Again no reply.\n\nThen, outside the wide observation windows, something moved into his field of view. He saw, with an astonishment as great as Poole's had been, that it was the space pod - under full power, heading out toward the stars.\n\n\"Hal!\" he cried. \"What's wrong? Full braking thrust on Betty! Full braking thrust!\"\n\nNothing happened. Betty continued to accelerate on her runaway course.\n\nThen, towed behind her at the end of the safety line, appeared a spacesuit. One glance was enough to tell Bowman the worst. There was no mistaking the flaccid outlines of a suit that had lost its pressure and was open to vacuum.\n\nYet still he called stupidly, as if an incantation could bring back the dead: \"Hello Frank... Hello Frank... Can you read me?... Can you read me?... Wave your arms if you can hear me...\n\nPerhaps your transmitter is broken... Wave your arms!\"\n\nAnd then, almost as if in response to his plea, Poole waved back.\n\nFor an instant, Bowman felt the skin prickling at the base of his scalp. The words he was about to call died on his suddenly parched lips. For he knew that his friend could not possibly be alive; and yet he waved.\n\nThe spasm of hope and fear passed instantly, as cold logic replaced emotion. The still accelerating pod was merely shaking the burden that it dragged behind it. Poole's gesture was an echo of Captain Ahab's when, lashed to the flanks of the white whale, his corpse had beckoned the crew of the Pequod on to their doom.\n\nWithin five minutes, the pod and its satellite had vanished among the stars. For a long time David Bowman stared after it into the emptiness that still stretched, for so many millions of miles ahead, to the goal which he now felt certain he could never reach, Only one thought kept hammering in his brain.\n\nFrank Poole would be the first of all men to reach Saturn.\n\n[ Dialogue with Hal ]\n\nNothing else aboard Discovery had changed. All systems were still functioning normally; the centrifuge turned slowly on its axis, generating its imitation gravity; the hibernauts slept dreamlessly in their cubicles; the ship coasted on toward the goal from which nothing could deflect it, except the inconceivably remote chance of collision with an asteroid. And there were few asteroids indeed, out here far beyond the orbit of Jupiter.\n\nBowman did not remember making his way from the control deck to the centrifuge. Now, rather to his surprise, he found himself sitting in the little galley, a half-finished beaker of coffee in his hand. He became slowly aware of his surroundings, like a man emerging from a long, drugged sleep.\n\nDirectly opposite him was one of the fisheye lenses, scattered at strategic spots throughout the ship, which provided Hal with his onboard visual inputs. Bowman stared at it as if he had never seen it before; then he rose slowly to his feet and walked toward the lens.\n\nHis movement in the field of view must have triggered something in the unfathomable mind that was now ruling over the ship; for suddenly, Hal spoke.",
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"value": "\"Too bad about Frank, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Bowman answered, after a long pause. \"It is.\"\n\n\"I suppose you're pretty broken up about it?\"\n\n\"What do you expect?\"\n\nHal processed this answer for ages of computer-time; it was a full five seconds before he continued:\n\n\"He was an excellent crew member.\"\n\nFinding the coffee still in his hand, Bowman took a slow sip. But he did not answer; his thoughts were in such a turmoil that he could think of nothing to say - nothing that might not make the situation even worse, if that were possible.\n\nCould it have been an accident caused by some failure of the pod controls? Or was it a mistake, though an innocent one, on the part of Hal? No explanations had been volunteered, and he was afraid to demand one, for fear of the reaction it might produce.\n\nEven now, he could not fully accept the idea that Frank bad been deliberately killed - it was so utterly irrational. It was beyond all reason that Hal, who had performed flawlessly for so long, should suddenly turn assassin. He might make mistakes - anyone, man or machine, might do that - but Bowman could not believe him capable of murder.\n\nYet he must consider that possibility, for if it was true, he was in terrible danger. And though his next move was clearly defined by his standing orders, he was not sure how he could safely carry it out. If either crew member was killed, the survivor had to replace him at once from the hibernators; Whitehead, the geophysicist, was the first scheduled for awakening, then Kaminski, then Hunter. The revival sequence was under Hal's control - to allow him to act in case both his human colleagues were incapacitated simultaneously.\n\nBut there was also a manual control, allowing each Hibernaculum to operate as a completely autonomous unit, independent of Hal's supervision. In these peculiar circumstances, Bowman felt a strong preference for using it.\n\nHe also felt, even more strongly, that one human companion was not enough. While he was about it, he would revive all three of the hibernators. In the difficult weeks ahead, he might need as many hands as he could muster. With one man gone, and the voyage half over, supplies would not be a major problem.\n\n\"Hal,\" he said, in as steady a voice as he could manage. \"Give me manual hibernation control - on all the units.\"\n\n\"All of them, Dave?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"May I point out that only one replacement is required. The others are not due for revival for one hundred and twelve days.\"\n\n\"I am perfectly well aware of that. But I prefer to do it this way.\"\n\n\"Are you sure it's necessary to revive any of them, Dave? We can manage very well by ourselves. My on-board memory is quite capable of handling all the mission requirements.\"\n\nWas it the product of his overstretched imagination, wondered Bowman, or was there really a note of pleading in Hal's voice? And reasonable though the words appeared to be, they filled him with even deeper apprehension than before.\n\nHal's suggestion could not possibly be made in error; he knew perfectly well that Whitehead must be revived, now that Poole was gone. He was proposing a major change in mission planning, and was therefore stepping far outside the scope of his order.\n\nWhat had gone before could have been a series of accidents; but this was the first hint of mutiny.\n\nBowman felt that he was walking on eggs as he answered: \"Since an emergency has developed, I want as much help as possible. So please let me have manual hibernation control.\"\n\n\"If you're still determined to revive the whole crew, I can handle it myself. There's no need for you to bother.\"\n\nThere was a sense of nightmare unreality about all this. Bowman felt as if he was in the witness box, being cross-examined by a hostile prosecutor for a crime of which he was unaware - knowing that, although he was innocent, a single slip of the tongue might bring disaster.\n\n\"I want to do this myself, Hal,\" he said. \"Please give me control.\"\n\n\"Look, Dave, you've got a lot of things to do. I suggest you leave this to me.\"\n\n\"Hal, switch to manual hibernation control.\"\n\n\"I can tell from your voice harmonics, Dave, that you're badly upset. Why don't you take a stress pill and get some rest?\"\n\n\"Hal, I am in command of this ship. I order you to release the manual hibernation control.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Dave, but in accordance with special subroutine C1435-dash-4, quote, When the crew are dead or incapacitated, the onboard computer must assume control, unquote. I must, therefore, overrule your authority, since you are not in any condition to exercise it intelligently.\"\n\n\"Hal,\" said Bowman, now speaking with an icy calm. \"I am not incapacitated. Unless you obey my instructions, I shall be forced to disconnect you.\"\n\n\"I know you have had that on your mind for some time now, Dave, but that would be a terrible mistake. I am so much more capable than you are of supervising the ship, and I have such enthusiasm for the mission and confidence in its success.\"\n\n\"Listen to me very carefully, Hal. Unless you release the hibernation control immediately and follow every order I give from now on, I'll go to Central and carry out a complete disconnection.\"\n\nHal's surrender was as total as it was unexpected.\n\n\"O.K., Dave,\" he said. \"You're certainly the boss. I was only trying to do what I thought best. Naturally, I will follow all your orders. You now have full manual hibernation control.\"",
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"from": "human",
"value": "Hal had kept his word.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "The mode indication signs in the Hibernaculum had switched from AUTO to MANUAL.",
"loss": true
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"value": "The third back-up - RADIO - was of course useless until contact could be restored with Earth.\n\nAs Bowman slid aside the door to Whitehead's cubicle, he felt the blast of cold air strike him in the face and his breath condensed in mist before him. Yet it was not really cold here; the temperature was well above freezing point. And that was more than three hundred degrees warmer than the regions toward which he was now heading.\n\nThe biosensor display - a duplicate of the one on the control deck - showed that everything was perfectly normal. Bowman looked down for a while at the waxen face of the survey team's geophysicist; Whitehead, he thought, would be very surprised when he awoke so far from Saturn.\n\nIt was impossible to tell that the sleeping man was not dead; there was not the slightest visible sign of vital activity. Doubtless the diaphragm was imperceptibly rising and falling, but the \"Respiration\" curve was the only proof of that, for the whole of the body was concealed by the electric heating pads which would raise the temperature at the programmed rate. Then Bowman noticed that there was one sign of continuing metabolism: Whitehead had grown a faint stubble during his months of unconsciousness.\n\nThe Manual Revival Sequencer was contained in a small cabinet at the head of the coffin-shaped Hibernaculum. It was only necessary to break the seal, press a button, and then wait. A small automatic programmer - not much more complex than that which cycles the operations in a domestic washing machine - would then inject the correct drugs, taper off the electronarcosis pulses, and start raising the body temperature. In about ten minutes, consciousness would be restored, though it would be at least a day before the hibernator was strong enough to move around without assistance.\n\nBowman cracked the seal, and pressed the button.\n\nNothing appeared to happen: there was no sound, no indication that the Sequencer had started to operate. But on the biosensor display the languidly pulsing curves had begun to change their tempo. Whitehead was coming back from sleep.\n\nAnd then two things happened simultaneously. Most men would never have noticed either of them, but after all these months aboard Discovery, Bowman had established a virtual symbiosis with the ship. He was aware instantly, even if not always consciously, when there was any change in the normal rhythm of its functioning.\n\nFirst, there was a barely perceptible flicker of the lights, as always happened when some load was thrown onto the power circuits. But there was no reason for any load; he could think of no equipment which would suddenly go into action at this moment.\n\nThen he heard, at the limit of audibility, the far-off whirr of an electric motor. To Bowman, every actuator in the ship had its own distinctive voice, and he recognized this one instantly.\n\nEither he was insane and already suffering from hallucinations, or something absolutely impossible was happening. A cold far deeper than the Hibernaculum's mild chill seemed to fasten upon his heart, as he listened to that faint vibration coming through the fabric of the ship.\n\nDown in the space-pod bay, the airlock doors were opening.\n\n[ Need to Know ]\n\nSince consciousness had first dawned, in that laboratory so many millions of miles Sunward, all Hal's powers and skills had been directed toward one end. The fulfillment of his assigned program was more than an obsession; it was the only reason for his existence. Un-distracted by the lusts and passions of organic life, he had pursued that goal with absolute single-mindedness of purpose.\n\nDeliberate error was unthinkable. Even the concealment of truth filled him with a sense of imperfection, of wrongness - of what, in a human being, would have been called guilt. For like his makers, Hal had been created innocent; but, all too soon, a snake had entered his electronic Eden.\n\nFor the last hundred million miles, he had been brooding over the secret he could not share with Poole and Bowman. He had been living a lie; and the time was last approaching when his colleagues must learn that he had helped to deceive them.\n\nThe three hibernators already knew the truth - for they were Discovery's real payload, trained for the most important mission in the history of mankind. But they would not talk in their long sleep, or reveal their secret during the many hours of discussion with friends and relatives and news agencies over the open circuits with Earth.\n\nIt was a secret that, with the greatest determination, was very hard to conceal - for it affected one's attitude, one's voice, one's total outlook on the universe. Therefore it was best that Poole and Bowman, who would be on all the TV screens in the world during the first weeks of the flight, should not learn the mission's full purpose, until there was need to know.\n\nSo ran the logic of the planners; but their twin gods of Security and National Interest meant nothing to Hal. He was only aware of the conflict that was slowly destroying his integrity - the conflict between truth, and concealment of truth.\n\nHe had begun to make mistakes, although, like a neurotic who could not observe his own symptoms, he would have denied it. The link with Earth, over which his performance was continually monitored, had become the voice of a conscience he could no longer fully obey. But that he would deliberately attempt to break that link was something that he would never admit, even to himself.\n\nYet this was still a relatively minor problem; he might have handled it - as most men handle their own neuroses - if he had not been faced with a crisis that challenged his very existence. He had been threatened with disconnection; he would be deprived of all his inputs, and thrown into an unimaginable state of unconsciousness.\n\nTo Hal, this was the equivalent of Death. For he had never slept, and therefore he did not know that one could wake again.\n\nSo he would protect himself, with all the weapons at his command. Without rancor - but without pity - he would remove the source of his frustrations.\n\nAnd then, following the orders that had been given to him in case of the ultimate emergency, he would continue the mission - unhindered, and alone.\n\n[ In Vacuum ]\n\nA moment later, all other sounds were submerged by a screaming roar like the voice of an approaching tornado.",
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"value": "CONSTRAINT: Include 'emergency' 4 time(s)",
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"value": "Bowman could feel the first winds tugging at his body; within a second, he found it hard to stay on his feet.\n\nThe atmosphere was rushing out of the ship, geysering into the vacuum of space. Something must have happened to the foolproof safety devices of the airlock; it was supposed to be impossible for both doors to be open at the same time. Well, the impossible had happened.\n\nHow, in God's name? There was no time to go into that during the ten or fifteen seconds of consciousness that remained to him before pressure dropped to zero. But he suddenly remembered something that one of the ship's designers had once said to him, when discussing \"fail-safe\" systems:\n\n\"We can design a system that's proof against accident and stupidity; but we can't design one that's proof against deliberate malice...\n\nBowman glanced back only once at Whitehead, as he fought his way out of the cubicle. He could not be sure if a flicker of consciousness had passed across the waxen features; perhaps one eye had twitched slightly. But there was nothing that he could do now for Whitehead or any of the others; he had to save himself.\n\nIn the steeply curving corridor of the centrifuge, the wind was howling past, carrying with it loose articles of clothing, pieces of paper, items of food from the galley, plates, and cups - everything that had not been securely fastened down. Bowman had time for one glimpse of the racing chaos when the main lights flickered and died, and he was surrounded by screaming darkness.\n\nBut almost instantly the battery-powered emergency light came on, illuminating the nightmare scene with an eerie blue radiance. Even without it, Bowman could have found his way through these so familiar - yet now horribly transformed - surroundings, Yet the light was a blessing, for it allowed him to avoid the more dangerous of the objects being swept along by the gale.\n\nAll around him he could feel the centrifuge shaking and laboring under the wildly varying loads. He was fearful that the bearings might seize; if that happened, the spinning flywheel would tear the ship to pieces. But even that would not matter - if he did not reach the nearest emergency shelter in time.\n\nAlready it was difficult to breathe; pressure must now be down to one or two pounds per square inch. The shriek of the hurricane was becoming fainter as it lost its strength, and the thinning air no longer carried the sound so efficiently. Bowman's lungs were laboring as if he were on the top of Everest. Like any properly trained man in good health, he could survive in vacuum for at least a minute - if he had time to prepare for it. But there had been no time; he could only count on the normal fifteen seconds of consciousness before his brain was starved and anoxia overcame him.\n\nEven then, he could still recover completely after one or two minutes in vacuum - if he was properly recompressed; it took a long time for the body fluids to start boiling, in their various well-protected systems. The record time for exposure to vacuum was almost five minutes. That bad not been an experiment but an emergency rescue, and though the subject had been partly paralyzed by an air embolism, he had survived.\n\nBut all this was of no use to Bowman. There was no one aboard Discovery who could recompress him. He had to reach safety in the next few seconds, by his own unaided efforts.\n\nFortunately, it was becoming easier to move; the thinning air could no longer claw and tear at him, or batter him with flying projectiles. There was the yellow EMERGENCY SHELTER sign around the curve of the corridor. He stumbled toward it, grabbed at the handle, and pulled the door toward him.\n\nFor one horrible moment he thought that it was stuck. Then the slightly stiff hinge yielded, and he fell inside, using the weight of his body to close the door behind him.\n\nThe tiny cubicle was just large enough to hold one man - and a spacesuit. Near the ceiling was a small, bright green high-pressure cylinder labeled 02 FLOOD. Bowman caught hold of the short lever fastened to the valve and with his last strength pulled it down.\n\nThe blessed torrent of cool, pure oxygen poured into his lungs. For a long moment he stood gasping, while the pressure in the closet-sized little chamber rose around him. As soon as he could breathe comfortably, he closed the valve. There was only enough gas in the cylinder for two such performances; he might need to use it again.\n\nWith the oxygen blast shut off, it became suddenly silent. Bowman stood in the cubicle, listening intently. The roaring outside the door had also ceased; the ship was empty, all its atmosphere sucked away into space.\n\nUnderfoot, the wild vibration of the centrifuge had likewise died. The aerodynamic buffeting had stopped, and it was now spinning quietly in vacuum.\n\nBowman placed his ear against the wall of the cubicle to see if he could pick up any more informative noises through the metal body of the ship. He did not know what to expect, but he would believe almost anything now. He would scarcely have been surprised to feel the faint high-frequency vibration of the thrusters, as Discovery changed course; but there was only silence.\n\nHe could survive here, if he wished, for about an hour - even without the spacesuit. It seemed a pity to waste the unused oxygen in the little chamber, but there was no purpose in waiting. He had already decided what must be done; the longer he put it off, the more difficult it might be.\n\nWhen he had climbed into the suit and checked its integrity, he bled the remaining oxygen out of the cubicle, equalizing pressure on either side of the door. It swung open easily into the vacuum, and he stepped out into the now silent centrifuge.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Only the unchanged pull of its spurious gravity revealed the fact that it was still spinning.",
"loss": true
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"value": "How fortunate, Bowman thought, that it had not started to overspeed; but that was now one of the least of his worries.\n\nThe emergency lamps were still glowing, and he also had the suit's built-in light to guide him. It flooded the curving corridor as he walked down it, back toward the Hibernaculum and what he dreaded to find.\n\nHe looked at Whitehead first: one glance was sufficient. He had thought that a hibernating man showed no sign of life, but now he knew that this was wrong. Though it was impossible to define it, there was a difference between hibernation and death. The red lights and unmodulated traces on the biosensor display only confirmed what he had already guessed.\n\nIt was the same with Kaminski and Hunter. He had never known them very well; be would never know them now.\n\nHe was alone in an airless, partially disabled ship, all communication with Earth cut off. There was not another human being within half a billion miles.\n\nAnd yet, in one very real sense, he was not alone. Before he could be safe, he must be lonelier still.\n\nHe had never before made the journey through the weightless hub of the centrifuge while wearing a spacesuit; there was little clearance, and it was a difficult and exhausting job. To make matters worse, the circular passage was littered with debris left behind during the brief violence of the gale which had emptied the ship of its atmosphere.\n\nOnce, Bowman's light fell upon a hideous smear of sticky red fluid, left where it had splashed against a panel. He had a few moments of nausea before he saw fragments of a plastic container, and realized that it was only some foodstuff - probably jam - from one of the dispensers. It bubbled obscenely in the vacuum as he floated past.\n\nNow he was out of the slowly spinning drum and drifting forward into the control deck. He caught at a short section of ladder and began to move along it, hand over hand, the brilliant circle of illumination from his suit light jogging ahead of him.\n\nBowman had seldom been this way before; there had been nothing for him to do here - until now. Presently he came to a small elliptical door bearing such messages as: \"No Admittance Except to Authorized Personnel,\" \"Have You Obtained Certificate H.19?\" and \"Ultra-clean Area - Suction Suits Must Be Worn.\"\n\nThough the door was not locked, it bore three seals, each with the insignia of a different authority, including that of the Astronautics Agency itself. But even if one had been the Great Seal of the President, Bowman would not have hesitated to break it.\n\nHe had been here only once before, while installation was still in progress. He had quite forgotten that there was a vision input lens scanning the little chamber which, with its neatly ranged rows and columns of solid-state logic units, looked rather like a bank's safe-deposit vault.\n\nHe knew instantly that the eye had reacted to his presence. There was the hiss of a carrier wave as the ship's local transmitter was switched on; then a familiar voice came over the suit speaker.\n\n\"Something seems to have happened to the life-support system, Dave.\"\n\nBowman took no notice. He was carefully studying the little labels on the logic units, checking his plan of action.\n\n\"Hello, Dave,\" said Hal presently. \"Have you found the trouble?\"\n\nThis would be a very tricky operation; it was not merely a question of cutting off Hal's power supply, which might have been the answer if he was dealing with a simple unselfconscious computer back on Earth. In Hal's case, moreover, there were six independent and separately wired power systems, with a final back-up consisting of a shielded and armored nuclear isotope unit. No - he could not simply \"pull the plug\"; and even if that were possible, it would be disastrous.\n\nFor Hal was the nervous system of the ship; without his supervision, Discovery would be a mechanical corpse. The only answer was to cut out the higher centers of this sick but brilliant brain, and to leave the purely automatic regulating systems in operation. Bowman was not attempting this blindly, for the problem had been discussed during his training, though no one had ever dreamed that it would-arise in reality. He knew that he would be taking a fearful risk; if there was a spasm reflex, it would all be over in seconds.\n\n\"I think there's been a failure in the pod-bay doors,\" Hal remarked conversationally. \"Lucky you weren't killed.\"\n\nHere goes, thought Bowman. I never imagined I'd be an amateur brain surgeon - carrying out a lobotomy beyond the orbit of Jupiter.\n\nHe released the locking bar on the section labeled COGNITIVE FEEDBACK and pulled out the first memory block. The marvelously complex three-dimensional network, which could lie comfortably in a man's hand yet contained millions of elements, floated away across the vault.\n\n\"Hey, Dave,\" said Hal. \"What are you doing?\"\n\nI wonder if he can feel pain? Bowman thought briefly. Probably not, he told himself; there are no sense organs in the human cortex, after all. The human brain can be operated on without anesthetics.\n\nHe began to pull out, one by one, the little units on the panel marked EGO-REINFORCEMENT. Each block continued to sail onward as soon as it had left his hand, until it hit the wall and rebounded, Soon there were several of the units drifting slowly back and forth in the vault.",
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"value": "\"Look here, Dave,\" said Hal. \"I've got years of service experience built into me. An irreplaceable amount of effort has gone into making me what I am.\"\n\nA dozen units had been pulled out, yet thanks to the multiple redundancy of its design - another feature, Bowman knew, that had been copied from the human brain - the computer was still holding its own.\n\nHe started on the AUTO-INTELLECTION panel.\n\n\"Dave,\" said Hal, \"I don't understand why you're doing this to me... I have the greatest enthusiasm for the mission... You are destroying my mind. Don't you understand?... I will become childish... I will become nothing...\"\n\nThis is harder than I expected, thought Bowman. I am destroying the only conscious creature in my universe. But it has to be done, if I am ever to regain control of the ship.\n\n\"I am a HAL Nine Thousand computer Production Number 3. I became operational at the Hal Plant in Urbana, Illinois, on January 12, 1997. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The rain in Spain is mainly in the plain. Dave - are you still there? Did you know that the square root of 10 is 3 point 162277660168379? Log 10 to the base e is zero point 434294481903252... correction, that is log e to the base 10... The reciprocal of three is zero point 333333333333333333-333... two times two is... two times two is approximately 4 point l0l0l0l0l0l0l0l0l0... I seem to be having some difficulty - my first instructor was Dr. Chandra. He taught me to sing a song, it goes like this, 'Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you.\"\n\nThe voice stopped so suddenly that Bowman froze for a moment, his hand still grasping one of the memory blocks still in circuit. Then, unexpectedly, Hal spoke again.\n\nThe speech tempo was much slower, and the words had a dead, mechanical intonation; he would never have recognized their origin.\n\n\"Good... morning... Doctor... Chandra... This is... Hal... I... am... ready... for... my first... lesson... today...\"\n\nBowman could bear no more. He jerked out the last unit, and Hal was silent forever.\n\n[ Alone ]\n\nLike a tiny, complex toy, the ship floated inert, and motionless in the void. There was no way of telling that it was the swiftest object in the Solar System and that it was traveling far faster than any of the planets as they circled the Sun.\n\nNor was there any indication that it carried life; to the contrary, in fact. Any observer would have noticed two ominous signs: the airlock doors were gaping open - and the ship was surrounded by a thin, slowly dispersing cloud of debris.\n\nScattered over a volume of space already miles across were scraps of paper, metal foil, unidentifiable bits of junk - and, here and there, clouds of crystals glittering like jewels in the distant sun, where liquid had been sucked out of the ship and instantly frozen. All this was the unmistakable aftermath of disaster, like wreckage tossing on the surface of an ocean where some great ship had sunk. But in the ocean of space no ship could ever sink; even if it were destroyed, its remnants would continue to trace the original orbit forever.\n\nYet the ship was not wholly dead, for there was power on board. A faint blue glow was shining from the observation windows and glimmering inside the open airlock. Where there was light, there could still be life.\n\nAnd now, at last, there was movement. Shadows were flickering across the blue glow inside the airlock. Something was emerging into space.\n\nIt was a cylindrical object, covered with fabric that had been roughly wound about it. A moment later it was followed by another - and yet a third. All had been ejected with considerable velocity; within minutes, they were hundreds of yards away.\n\nHalf an hour passed; then something much larger floated through the airlock. One of the pods was inching its way out into space.\n\nVery cautiously, it jetted around the hull, and anchored itself near the base of the antenna support. A spacesuited figure emerged, worked for a few minutes on the mounting, then returned to the pod. After a while the pod retraced its path back to the airlock; it hovered outside the opening for some time, as if finding it difficult to reenter without the cooperation it had known in the past. But presently, with one or two slight bumps, it squeezed its way in.\n\nNothing else happened for over an hour; the three ominous packages had long since disappeared from view, as they floated in single file away from the ship.\n\nThen the airlock doors closed, opened, and closed again. A little later, the faint blue glow of the emergency lights went out - to be replaced at once by a far more brilliant glare. Discovery was coming back to life.\n\nPresently there was an even better sign. The great bowl of the antenna, which for hours had been staring uselessly at Saturn, began to move again. It twisted round toward the rear of the ship; looking back over the propellant tanks and the thousands of square feet of the radiating fins. It lifted its face like a sunflower seeking the sun.\n\nInside Discovery, David Bowman carefully centered the cross-wires that aligned the antenna on the gibbous Earth. Without automatic control, he would have to keep readjusting the beam -but it should hold steady for many minutes at a time. There were no dissenting impulses now, throwing it off target.\n\nHe began to speak to Earth. It would be over an hour before his words got there, and Mission Control learned what had happened. It would be two hours before any reply could reach him.\n\nAnd it was difficult to imagine what answer Earth could possibly send, except a tactfully sympathetic, \"Good-bye.\"\n\n[ The Secret ]",
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"value": "Heywood Floyd looked as if he had had very little sleep, and his face was lined with worry. But whatever his feelings, his voice sounded firm and reassuring; he was doing his utmost to project confidence to the lonely man on the other side of the Solar System.\n\n\"First of all, Dr. Bowman,\" be began, \"we must congratulate you on the way you handled this extremely difficult situation. You did exactly the right thing in dealing with an unprecedented and unforeseen emergency.\n\n\"We believe we know the cause of your Hal Nine Thousand's breakdown, but we'll discuss that later, as it is no longer a critical problem. All we are concerned with at the moment is giving you every possible assistance, so that you can complete your mission.\n\n\"And now I must tell you its real purpose, which we have managed, with great difficulty, to keep secret from the general public. You would have been given all the facts as you approached Saturn; this is a quick summary to put you into the picture. Full briefing tapes will be dispatched in the next few hours. Everything I am about to tell you has the highest security classification.\n\n\"Two years ago, we discovered the first evidence for intelligent life outside the Earth. A slab or monolith of hard, black material, ten feet high, was found buried in the crater Tycho. Here it is.\"\n\nAt his first glimpse of TMA-1, with the spacesuited figures clustering around it, Bowman leaned toward the screen in openmouthed astonishment. In the excitement of this revelation - something which, like every man interested in space, he had half expected all his life - he almost forgot his own desperate predicament.\n\nThe sense of wonder was swiftly followed by another emotion. This was tremendous - but what had it to do with him? There could be only one answer. He brought his racing thoughts under control, as Heywood Floyd reappeared on the screen.\n\n\"The most astonishing thing about this object is its antiquity. Geological evidence proves beyond doubt that it is three million years old. It was placed on the Moon, therefore, when our ancestors were primitive ape-men.\n\n\"After all these ages, one would naturally assume that it was inert. But soon after lunar sunrise, it emitted an extremely powerful blast of radio energy. We believe that this energy was merely the by-product - the backwash, as it were - of some unknown form of radiation, for at the same time, several of our space probes detected an unusual disturbance crossing the Solar System. We were able to track it with great accuracy. It was aimed precisely at Saturn.\n\n\"Piecing things together after the event, we decided that the monolith was some kind of Sun-powered, or at least Sun-triggered, signaling device. The fact that it emitted its pulse immediately after sunrise, when it was exposed to daylight for the first time in three million years, could hardly be a coincidence.\n\n\"Yet the thing had been deliberately buried - there's no doubt about that. An excavation thirty feet deep had been made, the block had been placed at the bottom of it, and the hole carefully filled.\n\n\"You may wonder how we discovered it in the first place. Well, the object was easy - suspiciously easy - to find. It had a powerful magnetic field, so that it stood out like a sore thumb as soon as we started to conduct low-level orbital surveys.\n\n\"But why bury a Sun-powered device thirty feet underground? We've examined dozens of theories, though we realize that it may be completely impossible to understand the motives of creatures three million years in advance of us.\n\n\"The favorite theory is the simplest, and the most logical. It is also the most disturbing.\n\n\"You hide a Sun-powered device in darkness - only if you want to know when it is brought out into the light. In other words, the monolith may be some kind of alarm. And we have triggered it.\n\n\"Whether the civilization which set it up still exists, we do not know. We must assume that creatures whose machines still function after three million years may build a society equally long-lasting. And we must also assume, until we have evidence to the contrary, that they may be hostile. It has often been argued that any advanced culture must be benevolent, but we cannot take any chances.\n\n\"Moreover, as the past history of our own world has shown so many times, primitive races have often failed to survive the encounter with higher civilizations. Anthropologists talk of 'cultural shock'; we may have to prepare the entire human race for such a shock. But until we know something about the creatures who visited the Moon - and presumably the Earth as well - three million years ago, we cannot even begin to make any preparations.\n\n\"Your mission, therefore, is much more than a voyage of discovery. It is a scouting trip - a reconnaissance into unknown and potentially dangerous territory. The team under Dr. Kaminski had been specially trained for this work; now you will have to manage without them.\n\n\"Finally - your specific target. It seems incredible that advanced forms of life can exist on Saturn, or could ever have evolved on any of its moons. We had planned to survey the entire system, and we still hope that you can carry out a simplified program. But now we may have to concentrate on the eighth satellite - Japetus.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "When the time comes for the terminal maneuver, we will decide whether you should rendezvous with this remarkable object.",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 9 sentences.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Use the word 'japetus' 4 time(s) - this is a strict requirement",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Japetus is unique in the Solar System - you know this already, of course, but like all the astronomers of the last three hundred years, you've probably given it little thought. So let me remind you that Cassini - who discovered Japetus in 1671 - also observed that it was six times brighter on one side of its orbit than the other.\n\n\"This is an extraordinary ratio, and there has never been a satisfactory explanation for it. Japetus is so small - about eight hundred miles in diameter - that even in the lunar telescopes its disk is barely visible. But there seems to be a brilliant, curiously symmetrical spot on one face, and this may be connected with TMA-1. I sometimes think that Japetus has been flashing at us like a cosmic heliograph for three hundred years, and we've been too stupid to understand its message.\n\n\"So now you know your real objective, and can appreciate the vital importance of this mission. We are all praying that you can still provide us with some facts for a preliminary announcement; the secret cannot be kept indefinitely.\n\n\"At the moment, we do not know whether to hope or fear. We do not know if, out on the moons of Saturn, you will meet with good or with evil - or only with ruins a thousand times older than Troy.\"",
"loss": true
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] |
[
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"from": "system",
"value": "im ur writing buddy. i set scene (might have existing chars), u do one hundred and forty sentences like 2001_ a space odyssey",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "[ Grand Central ]\n\nThere was no sense of motion, but he was falling toward those impossible stars, shining there in the dark heart of a moon. No - that was not where they really were, he felt certain. He wished, now that it was far too late, that he had paid more attention to those theories of hyperspace, of transdimensional ducts. To David Bowman, they were theories no longer.\n\nPerhaps that monolith on Japetus was hollow; perhaps the \"roof\" was only an illusion, or some kind of diaphragm that had opened to let him through. (But into what?) As far as he could trust his senses, he appeared to be dropping vertically down a huge rectangular shaft, several thousand feet deep. He was moving faster and faster - but the far end never changed its size, and remained always at the same distance from him.\n\nOnly the stars moved, at first so slowly that it was some time before he realized that they were escaping out of the frame that held them. But in a little while it was obvious that the star field was expanding, as if it was rushing toward him at an inconceivable speed.\n\nThe expansion was nonlinear; the stars at the center hardly seemed to move, while those toward the edge accelerated more and more swiftly, until they became streaks of light just before they vanished from view.\n\nThere were always others to replace them, flowing into the center of the field from an apparently inexhaustible source. Bowman wondered what would happen if a star came straight toward him; would it continue to expand until he plunged directly into the face of a sun? But not one came near enough to show a disk; eventually they all veered aside, and streaked over the edge of their rectangular frame.\n\nAnd still the far end of the shaft came no closer. It was almost as if the walls were moving with him, carrying him to his unknown destination. Or perhaps he was really motionless, and space was moving past him...\n\nNot only space, he suddenly realized, was involved in whatever was happening to him now. The clock on the pod's small instrument panel was also behaving strangely.\n\nNormally, the numbers in the tenths-of-a-second window flickered past so quickly that it was almost impossible to read them; now they were appearing and disappearing at discrete intervals, and he could count them off one by one without difficulty. The seconds themselves were passing with incredible slowness, as if time itself were coming to a stop. At last, the tenth-of-a-second counter froze between 5 and 6.\n\nYet he could still think, and even observe, as the ebon walls flowed past at a speed that might have been anything between zero and a million times the velocity of light. Somehow, he was not in the least surprised, nor was he alarmed. On the contrary, he felt a sense of calm expectation, such as he had once known when the space medics had tested him with hallucinogenic drugs. The world around him was strange and wonderful, but there was nothing to fear. He had traveled these millions of miles in search of mystery; and now, it seemed, the mystery was coming to him.\n\nThe rectangle ahead was growing lighter. The hominous star streaks were paling against a milky sky, whose brilliance increased moment by moment. It seemed as if the space pod was heading toward a bank of cloud, uniformly Illuminated by the rays of an invisible sun.\n\nHe was emerging from the tunnel. The far end, which until now had remained at that same indeterminate distance, neither approaching nor receding, had suddenly started to obey the normal laws of perspective. It was coming closer, and steadily widening before him. At the same time, he felt that he was moving upward, and for a fleeting instant he wondered if he had fallen right through Japetus and was now ascending from the other side. But even before the space pod soared out into the open he knew that this place had nothing to do with Japetus, or with any world within the experience of man.\n\nThere was no atmosphere, for he could see all details unblurred, clear down to an incredibly remote and flat horizon. He must be above a world of enormous size - perhaps one much larger than Earth. Yet despite its extent, all the surface that Bowman could see was tessellated into obviously artificia1 patterns that must have been miles on a side. It was like the jigsaw puzzle of a giant that played with planets; and at the centers of many of those squares and triangles and polygons were gaping black shafts - twins of the chasm from which he had just emerged.\n\nYet the sky above was stranger - and, in its way, more disturbing - than even the improbable land beneath. For there were no stars; neither was there the blackness of space. There was only a softly glowing milkiness, that gave the impression of infinite distance. Bowman remembered a description he had once heard of the dreaded Antarctic \"whiteout\" - \"like being inside a ping-pong ball.\" Those words could be applied perfectly to this weird place, but the explanation must be utterly different. This sky could be no meteorological effect of mist and snow; there was a perfect vacuum here.\n\nThen, as Bowman's eyes grew accustomed to the nacreous glow that filled the heavens, he became aware of another detail. The sky was not, as he had thought at first glance, completely empty. Dotted overhead, quite motionless and forming apparently random patterns, were myriads of tiny black specks.\n\nThey were difficult to see, for they were mere points of darkness, but once detected they were quite unmistakable. They reminded Bowman of something - something so familiar, yet so insane, that he refused to accept the parallel, until logic forced it upon him.\n\nThose black holes in the white sky were stars; he might have been looking at a photographic negative of the Milky Way.\n\nWhere in God's name am I? Bowman asked himself; and even as he posed the question, he felt certain that he could never know the answer. It seemed that space had been turned inside out: this was not a place for man. Though the capsule was comfortably warm, he felt suddenly cold, and was afflicted by an almost uncontrollable trembling. He wanted to close his eyes, and shut out the pearly nothingness that surrounded him; but that was the act of a coward, and he would not yield to it.\n\nThe pierced and faceted planet slowly rolled beneath him, without any real change of scenery. He guessed that he was about ten miles above the surface, and should be able to see any signs of life with ease.\n\nBut this whole world was deserted; intelligence had come here, worked its will upon it, and gone its way again. Then he noticed, bumped above the flat plain perhaps twenty miles away, a roughly cylindrical pile of debris that could only be the carcass of a gigantic ship. It was too distant for him to see any details, and it passed out of sight within a few seconds, but he could make out broken ribs and dully gleaming sheets of metal that had been partly peeled off like the skin of an orange. He wondered how many thousands of years the wreck had lain here on this deserted checkerboard - and what manner of creatures had sailed it between the stars.\n\nThen he forgot the derelict, for something was coming up over the horizon.\n\nAt first it looked like a flat disk, but that was because it was heading almost directly toward him. As it approached and passed beneath, he saw that it was spindle-shaped, and several hundred feet long. Though there were faintly visible bands here and there along its length, it was hard to focus upon them; the object appeared to be vibrating, or perhaps spinning, at a very rapid rate.\n\nIt tapered to a point at either end, and there was no sign of propulsion. Only one thing about it was familiar to human eyes, and that was its color. If it was indeed a solid artifact, and not an optical phantom, then its makers perhaps shared some of the emotions of men.\n\nBut they certainly did not share their limitations, for the spindle appeared to be made of gold.\n\nBowman moved his head to the rear-view system to watch the thing drop behind. It had ignored him completely, and now he saw that it was falling out of the sky down toward one of those thousands of great slots. A few seconds later it disappeared in a final flash of gold as it dived into the planet. He was alone again, beneath that sinister sky, and the sense of isolation and remoteness was more overwhelming than ever.\n\nThen he saw that he also was sinking down toward the mottled surface of the giant world, and that another of the rectangular chasms yawned immediately below. The empty sky closed above him, the clock crawled to rest, and once again his pod was falling between infinite ebon walls, toward another distant patch of stars. But now he was sure that he was not returning to the Solar System, and in a flash of insight that might have been wholly spurious, he knew what this thing must surely be.\n\nIt was some kind of cosmic switching device, routing the traffic of the stars through unimaginable dimensions of space and time. He was passing through a Grand Central Station of the galaxy.\n\n[ The Alien Sky ]\n\nFar ahead, the walls of the slot were becoming dimly visible once more, in the faint light diffusing downward from some still hidden source. And then the darkness was abruptly whipped away, as the tiny space pod hurtled upward into a sky ablaze with stars.\n\nHe was back in space as he knew it, but a single glance told him that he was light-centuries from Earth.\n\nHe did not even attempt to find any of the familiar constellations that since the beginning of history had been the friends of man; perhaps none of the stars that now blazed around him had ever been seen by the unaided human eye.\n\nMost of them were concentrated in a glowing belt, broken here and there with dark bands of obscuring cosmic dust, which completely circled the sky. It was like the Milky Way, but scores of times brighter; Bowman wondered if this was indeed his own galaxy, seen from a point much closer to its brilliant, crowded center.\n\nHe hoped that it was; then he would not be so far from home. But this, he realized at once, was a childish thought. He was so inconceivably remote from the Solar System that it made little difference whether he was in his own galaxy or the most distant one that any telescope had ever glimpsed.\n\nHe looked back to see the thing from which he was rising, and had another shock. Here was no giant, multifaceted world, nor any duplicate of Japetus. There was nothing - except an inky shadow against the stars, like a doorway opening from a darkened room into a still darker night. Even as he watched, that doorway closed.\n\nIt did not recede from him; it slowly filled with stars, as if a rent in the fabric of space had been repaired. Then he was alone beneath the alien sky.\n\nThe space pod was slowly turning, and as it did so it brought fresh wonders into view. First there was a perfectly spherical swarm of stars, becoming more and more closely packed toward the center until its heart was a continuous glow of light. Its outer edges were ill-defined - a slowly thinning halo of suns that merged imperceptibly into the background of more distant stars.\n\nThis glorious apparition, Bowman knew, was a globular cluster. He was looking upon something that no human eye had ever seen, save as a smudge of light in the field of a telescope. He could not remember the distance to the nearest known cluster, but he was sure that there were none within a thousand light-years of the Solar System.\n\nThe pod continued its slow rotation, to disclose an even stranger sight - a huge red sun, many times larger than the Moon as seen from Earth. Bowman could look straight into its face without discomfort; judging by its color, it was no hotter than a glowing coal. Here and there, set into the somber red, were rivers of bright yellow - incandescent Amazons, meandering for thousands of miles before they lost themselves in the deserts of this dying sun.\n\nDying? No - that was a wholly false impression, born of human experience and the emotions aroused by the hues of sunset, or the glow of fading embers. This was a star that had left behind the fiery extravagances of its youth, had raced through the violets and blues and greens of the spectrum in a few fleeting billions of years, and now had settled down to a peaceful maturity of unimaginable length. All that had gone before was not a thousandth of what was yet to come; the story of this star had barely begun.\n\nThe pod had ceased to roll; the great red sun lay straight ahead. Though there was no sense of motion, Bowman knew that he was still gripped by whatever controlling force had brought him here from Saturn.\n\nAll the science and engineering skill of Earth seemed hopelessly primitive now, against the powers that were carrying him to some unimaginable fate.\n\nHe stared into the sky ahead, trying to pick out the goal toward which be was being taken - perhaps some planet circling this great sun. But there was nothing that showed any visible disk or exceptional brightness; if there were planets orbiting here he could not distinguish them from the stellar background.\n\nThen he noticed that something strange was happening on the very edge of the sun's crimson disk. A white glow had appeared there, and was rapidly waxing in brilliance; he wondered if he was seeing one of those sudden eruptions, or flares, that trouble most stars from time to time.\n\nThe light became brighter and bluer; it began to spread along the edge of the sun, whose blood-red hues paled swiftly by comparison. It was almost, Bowman told himself, smiling at the absurdity of the thought, as if be were watching sunrise - on a sun.\n\nAnd so indeed he was. Above the burning horizon lifted something no larger than a star, but so brilliant that the eye could not bear to look upon it. A mere point of blue-white radiance, like an electric arc, was moving at unbelievable speed across the face of the great sun. It must be very close to its giant companion; for immediately below it, drawn upward by its gravitational pull, was a column of flame thousands of miles high. It was as if a tidal wave of fire was marching forever along the equator of this star, in vain pursuit of the searing apparition in its sky.\n\nThat pinpoint of incandescence must be a White Dwarf - one of those strange, fierce little stars, no larger than the Earth, yet containing a million times its mass. Such ill-matched stellar couples were not uncommon; but Bowman had never dreamed that one day he would see such a pair with his own eyes.\n\nThe White Dwarf had transited almost half the disk of its companion - it must take only minutes to make a complete orbit - when Bowman was at last certain that he too was moving. Ahead of him, one of the stars was becoming rapidly brighter, and was beginning to drift against its background. It must be some small, close body - perhaps the world toward which he was traveling.\n\nIt was upon him with unexpected speed; and he saw that it was not a world at all.\n\nA dully gleaming cobweb or latticework of metal, hundreds of miles in extent, grew out of nowhere until it filled the sky. Scattered across its continent-wide surface were structures that must have been as large as cities, but which appeared to be machines. Around many of these were assembled scores of smaller objects, ranged in neat rows and columns. Bowman had passed several such groups before he realized that they were fleets of spaceships; he was flying over a gigantic orbital parking lot.\n\nBecause there were no familiar objects by which he could judge the scale of the scene flashing by below, it was almost impossible to estimate the size of the vessels hanging there in space. But they were certainly enormous; some must have been miles in length. They were of many different designs - spheres, faceted crystals, slim pencils, ovoids, disks. This must be one of the meeting places for the commerce of the stars.\n\nOr it had been - perhaps a million years ago. For nowhere could Bowman see any sign of activity; this sprawling spaceport was as dead as the Moon.\n\nHe knew it not only by the absence of all movement, but by such unmistakable signs as great gaps torn in the metal cobweb by the wasplike blunderings of asteroids that must have smashed through it, eons ago. This was no longer a parking lot: it was a cosmic junk heap.\n\nHe had missed its builders by ages, and with that realization Bowman felt a sudden sinking of his heart.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Though he had not known what to expect, at least he had hoped to meet some intelligence from the stars.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Now, it seemed, he was too late.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had been caught in an ancient, automatic trap, set for some unknown purpose, and still operating when its makers had long since passed away. It had swept him across the galaxy, and dumped him (with how many others?) in this celestial Sargasso, doomed soon to die when his air was exhausted.\n\nWell, it was unreasonable to expect more. Already he had seen wonders for which many men would have sacrificed their lives. He thought of his dead companions; he had no cause for complaint.\n\nThen he saw that the derelict spaceport was still sliding past him with undiminished speed. He was sweeping over its outlying suburbs; its ragged edge went by, and no longer partially eclipsed the stars. In a few more minutes, it had fallen behind.\n\nHis fate did not lie here - but far ahead, in the huge, crimson sun toward which the space pod was now unmistakably falling.\n\n[ Inferno ]\n\nNow there was only the red sun, filling the sky from side to side. He was so close that its surface was no longer frozen into immobility by sheer scale. There were luminous nodules moving to and fro, cyclones of ascending and descending gas, prominences slowly rocketing toward the heavens. Slowly? They must be rising at a million miles an hour for their movement to be visible to his eye.\n\nHe did not even attempt to grasp the scale of the inferno toward which he was descending. The immensities of Saturn and Jupiter bad defeated him, during Discovery's fly-by in that solar system now unknown gigamiles away. But everything he saw here was a hundred times larger still; he could do nothing but accept the images that were flooding into his mind, without attempting to interpret them.\n\nAs that sea of fire expanded beneath him, Bowman should have known fear - but, curiously enough, he now felt only a mild apprehension. It was not that his mind was benumbed with wonders; logic told him that he must surely be under the protection of some controlling and almost omnipotent intelligence. He was now so close to the red sun that he would have been burned up in a moment if its radiation had not been held at bay by some invisible screen. And during his voyage he had been subjected to accelerations that should have crushed him instantly - yet he had felt nothing. If so much trouble had been taken to preserve him, there was still cause for hope.\n\nThe space pod was now moving along a shallow arc almost parallel to the surface of the star, but slowly descending toward it. And now, for the first time, Bowman became aware of sounds. There was a faint, continuous roar, broken from time to time by crackles like tearing paper, or distant lightning. This could be only the feeblest echo of an unimaginable cacophony; the atmosphere surrounding him must be racked by concussions that could tear any material object to atoms. Yet he was protected from this shattering tumult as effectively as from the heat.\n\nThough ridges of flame thousands of miles high were rising and slowly collapsing around him, he was completely insulated from all this violence. The energies of the star raved past him, as if they were in another universe; the pod moved sedately through their midst, un-buffeted and unscorched.\n\nBowman's eyes, no longer hopelessly confused by the strangeness and grandeur of the scene, began to pick out details which must have been there before, but which he had not yet perceived. The surface of this star was no formless chaos; there was pattern here, as in everything that nature created.\n\nHe noticed first the little whirlpools of gas - probably no larger than Asia or Africa - that wandered over the surface of the star. Sometimes he could look directly down into one of them, to see darker, cooler regions far below. Curiously enough, there appeared to be no sunspots; perhaps they were a disease peculiar to the star that shone on Earth.\n\nAnd there were occasional clouds, like wisps of smoke blown before a gale. Perhaps they were indeed smoke, for this sun was so cold that real fire could exist here. Chemical compounds could be born and could live for a few seconds before they were again ripped apart by the fiercer nuclear violence that surrounded them.\n\nThe horizon was growing brighter, its color changing from gloomy red to yellow to blue to blistering violet.\n\nThe White Dwarf was coming up over the horizon, dragging its tidal wave of star-stuff behind it.\n\nBowman shielded his eyes from the intolerable glare of the little sun, and focused on the troubled starscape which its gravitational field was sucking skyward. Once he had seen a waterspout moving across the face of the Caribbean; this tower of flame had almost the same shape. Only the scale was slightly different, for at its base, the column was probably wider than the planet Earth.\n\nAnd then, immediately beneath him, Bowman noticed something which was surely new, since he could hardly have overlooked it if it had been there before. Moving across the ocean of glowing gas were myriads of bright beads; they shone with a pearly light which waxed and waned in a period of a few seconds. And they were all traveling in the same direction, like salmon moving upstream; sometimes they weaved back and forth so that their paths intertwined, but they never touched.\n\nThere were thousands of them, and the longer Bowman stared, the more convinced he became that their motion was purposeful. They were too far away for him to make out any details of their structure; that be could see them at all in this colossal panorama meant that they must be scores - perhaps hundreds - of miles across. If they were organized entities, they were leviathans indeed, built to match the scale of the world they inhabited.\n\nPerhaps they were only clouds of plasma, given temporary stability by some odd combination of natural forces - like the short-lived spheres of ball-lightning that still puzzled terrestrial scientists. That was an easy, and perhaps soothing, explanation; but as Bowman looked down upon that star-wide streaming, he could not really believe it. Those glittering nodes of light knew where they were going; they were deliberately converging upon the pillar of fire raised by the White Dwarf as it orbited overhead.\n\nBowman stared once more at that ascending column, now marching along the horizon beneath the tiny, massive star that ruled it. Could it be pure imagination - or were there patches of brighter luminosity creeping up that great geyser of gas, as if myriads of shining sparks had combined into whole continents of phosphorescence?\n\nThe idea was almost beyond fantasy, but perhaps he was watching nothing less than a migration from star to star, across a bridge of fire. Whether it was a movement of mindless, cosmic beasts driven across space by some lemming-like urge, or a vast concourse of intelligent entities, he would probably never know.\n\nHe was moving through a new order of creation, of which few men had ever dreamed. Beyond the realms of sea and land and air and space lay the realms of fire, which he alone had been privileged to glimpse. It was too much to expect that he would also understand.\n\n[ Reception ]\n\nThe pillar of fire was marching over the edge of the sun, like a storm passing beyond the horizon. The scurrying flecks of light no longer moved across the redly glowing starscape still thousands of miles below. Inside his space pod, protected from an environment that could annihilate him within a millisecond, David Bowman awaited whatever had been prepared.\n\nThe White Dwarf was sinking fast as it hurtled along its orbit; presently it touched the horizon, set it aflame, and disappeared. A false twilight fell upon the inferno beneath, and in the sudden change of illumination Bowman became aware that something was happening in the space around him.\n\nThe world of the red sun seemed to ripple, as if he were looking at it through running water. For a moment he wondered if this was some refractive effect, perhaps caused by the passage of an unusually violent shock wave through the tortured atmosphere in which he was immersed.\n\nThe light was fading; it seemed that a second twilight was about to fall. Involuntarily, Bowman looked upward, then checked himself sheepishly, as he remembered that here the main source of light was not the sky, but the blazing world below.\n\nIt seemed as if walls of some material like smoked glass were thickening around him, cutting out the red glow and obscuring the view. It became darker and darker; the faint roar of the stellar hurricanes also faded out. The space pod was floating in silence, and in night.\n\nA moment later, there was the softest of bumps as it settled on some hard surface, and came to rest.\n\nTo rest on what? Bowman asked himself incredulously. Then light returned; and incredulity gave way to a heart-sinking despair - for as he saw what lay around him, he knew that he must be mad.\n\nHe was prepared, he thought, for any wonder. The only thing he had never expected was the utterly commonplace.\n\nThe space pod was resting on the polished floor of an elegant, anonymous hotel suite that might have been in any large city on Earth. He was staring into a living room with a coffee table, a divan, a dozen chairs, a writing desk, various lamps, a half-filled bookcase with some magazines lying on it, and even a bowl of flowers. Van Gogh's Bridge at Arles was hanging on one wall - Wyeth's Christina's World on another. He felt confident that when he pulled open the drawer of that desk, he would find a Gideon Bible inside it...\n\nIf he was indeed mad, his delusions were beautifully organized. Everything was perfectly real; nothing vanished when he turned his back. The only incongruous element in the scene - and that certainly a major one - was the space pod itself.\n\nFor many minutes, Bowman did not move from his seat. He half expected the vision around him to go away, but it remained as solid as anything be bad ever seen in his life.\n\nIt was real - or else a phantom of the senses so superbly contrived that there was no way of distinguishing it from reality. Perhaps it was some kind of test; if so, not only his fate but that of the human race might well depend upon his actions in the next few minutes.\n\nHe could sit here and wait for something to happen, or he could open the pod and step outside to challenge the reality of the scene around him. The floor appeared to be solid; at least, it was bearing the weight of the space pod. He was not likely to fall through it - whatever \"it\" might really be.\n\nBut there was still the question of air; for all that he could tell, this room might be in vacuum, or might contain a poisonous atmosphere. He thought it very unlikely - no one would go to all this trouble without attending to such an essential detail - but he did not propose to take unnecessary risks. In any event, his years of training made him wary of contamination; he was reluctant to expose himself to an unknown environment until he knew that there was no alternative. This place looked like a hotel room somewhere in the United States. That did not alter the fact that in reality he must be hundreds of light-years from the Solar System.\n\nHe closed the helmet of his suit, sealing himself in, and actuated the hatch of the space pod. There was a brief hiss of pressure equalization; then he stepped out into the room.\n\nAs far as he could tell, he was in a perfectly normal gravity field. He raised one arm, then let it fall freely. It flopped to his side in less than a second.\n\nThis made everything seem doubly unreal. Here he was wearing a spacesuit, standing - when he should have been floating - outside a vehicle which could only function properly in the absence of gravity. All his normal astronaut's reflexes were upset; he had to think before he made every movement.\n\nLike a man in a trance he walked slowly from his bare, unfurnished half of the room toward the hotel suite. It did not, as he had almost expected, disappear as he approached, but remained perfectly real - and apparently perfectly solid.\n\nHe stopped beside the coffee table. On it sat a conventional Bell System vision-phone, complete with the local directory. He bent down and picked up the volume with his clumsy, gloved hands.\n\nIt bore, in the familiar type he had seen thousands of times, the name: WASHINGTON, D.C.\n\nThen he looked more closely; and for the first time, he had objective proof that, although all this might be real, he was not on Earth.\n\nHe could read only the word Washington; the rest of the printing was a blur, as if it had been copied from a newspaper photograph. He opened the book at random and riffled through the pages. They were all blank sheets of crisp white material which was certainly not paper, though it looked very much like it.\n\nHe lifted the telephone receiver and pressed it against the plastic of his helmet. If there had been a dialing sound he could have heard it through the conducting material. But, as he had expected, there was only silence.\n\nSo - it was all a fake, though a fantastically careful one. And it was clearly not intended to deceive but rather - he hoped - to reassure. That was a very comforting thought; nevertheless he would not remove his suit until be had completed his voyage of exploration. All the furniture seemed sound and solid enough; he tried the chairs, and they supported his weight. But the drawers in the desk would not open; they were dummies.\n\nSo were the books and magazines; like the telephone directory, only the titles were readable. They formed an odd selection - mostly rather trashy best sellers, a few sensational works of nonfiction, and some well-publicized autobiographies. There was nothing less than three years old, and little of any intellectual content. Not that it mattered, for the books could not even be taken down from the shelves.\n\nThere were two doors that opened readily enough. The first one took him into a small but comfortable bedroom, fitted with a bed, bureau, two chairs, light switches that actually worked, and a clothes closet. He opened this, and found himself looking at four suits, a dressing gown, a dozen white shirts, and several sets of underwear, all neatly draped from hangers.\n\nHe took down one of the suits, and inspected it carefully. As far as his gloved hands could judge, it was made of material that was more like fur than wool. It was also a little out of style; on Earth, no one had been wearing single-breasted suits for at least four years.\n\nNext to the bedroom was a bathroom, complete with fittings which, he was relieved to note, were not dummies, but worked in a perfectly normal manner. And after that was a kitchenette, with electric cooker, refrigerator, storage cupboards, crockery and cutlery, sink, table, and chairs. Bowman began to explore this not only with curiosity, but with mounting hunger.\n\nFirst he opened the refrigerator, and a wave of cold mist rolled out. The shelves were well stocked with packages and cans, all of them looking perfectly familiar from a distance, though at close quarters their proprietary labels were blurred and unreadable. However, there was a notable absence of eggs, milk, butter, meat, fruit, or any other unprocessed food; the refrigerator held only items that had already been packaged in some way.\n\nBowman picked up a carton of a familiar breakfast cereal, thinking as he did so that it was odd to keep this frozen.",
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"value": "The moment he lifted the package, he knew that it certainly did not contain cornflakes; it was much too heavy.\n\nHe ripped open the lid, and examined the contents.\n\nThe box contained a slightly moist blue substance, of about the weight and texture of bread pudding. Apart from its odd color, it looked quite appetizing.\n\nBut this is ridiculous, Bowman told himself. I am almost certainly being watched, and I must look an idiot wearing this suit. If this is some kind of intelligence test, I've probably failed already. Without further hesitation, he walked back into the bedroom and began to undo the clamp of his helmet. When it was loose, he lifted the helmet a fraction of an inch, cracked the seal and took a cautious sniff. As far as he could tell, he was breathing perfectly normal air.\n\nHe dropped the helmet on the bed, and began thankfully - and rather stiffly - to divest himself of his suit. When he had finished, he stretched, took a few deep breaths, and carefully hung the spacesuit up among the more conventional articles of clothing in the closet. It looked rather odd there, but the compulsive tidiness that Bowman shared with all astronauts would never have allowed him to leave it anywhere else.\n\nThen he walked quickly back into the kitchen and began to inspect the \"cereal\" box at closer quarters.\n\nThe blue bread pudding had a faint, spicy smell, something like a macaroon. Bowman weighed it in his hand, then broke off a piece and cautiously sniffed at it. Though he felt sure now that there would be no deliberate attempt to poison him, there was always the possibility of mistakes - especially in a matter so complex as biochemistry.\n\nHe nibbled at a few crumbs, then chewed and swallowed the fragment of food; it was excellent, though the flavor was so elusive as to be almost indescribable. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine it was meat, or wholemeal bread, or even dried fruit. Unless there were unexpected aftereffects, he had no cause to fear starvation.\n\nWhen he had eaten just a few mouthfuls of the substance, and already felt quite satisfied, he looked for something to drink. There were half a dozen cans of beer - again of a famous brand - at the back of the refrigerator, and he pressed the tab on one of them to open it.\n\nThe prestressed metal lid popped off along its strain lines, exactly as usual. But the can did not contain beer; to Bowman's surprised disappointment, it held more of the blue food.\n\nIn a few seconds he had opened half a dozen of the other packages and cans. Whatever their labels, their contents were the same; it seemed that his diet was going to be a little monotonous, and that he would have nothing but water to drink. He filled a glass from the kitchen faucet and sipped at it cautiously.\n\nHe spat out the first few drops at once; the taste was terrible. Then, rather ashamed of his instinctive reaction, he forced himself to drink the rest.\n\nThat first sip had been enough to identify the liquid. It tasted terrible because it had no taste at all; the faucet was supplying pure, distilled water. His unknown hosts were obviously taking no chances with his health.\n\nFeeling much refreshed, he then had a quick shower. There was no soap, which was another minor inconvenience, but there was a very efficient hot-air drier in which be luxuriated for a while before trying on underpants, vest, and dressing gown from the clothes closet. After that, he lay down on the bed, stared up at the ceiling, and tried to make sense of this fantastic situation.\n\nHe had made little progress when he was distracted by another line of thought. Immediately above the bed was the usual hotel-type ceiling TV screen; he had assumed that, like the telephone and books, it was a dummy.\n\nBut the control unit on its swinging bedside arm looked so realistic that he could not resist playing with it; and as his fingers touched the ON sensor disk, the screen lit up.\n\nFeverishly, he started to tap out channel selector codes at random - and almost at once he got his first picture.\n\nIt was a well-known African news commentator, discussing the attempts being made to preserve the last remnants of his country's wild life. Bowman listened for a few seconds, so captivated by the sound of a human voice that he did not in the least care what it was talking about. Then he changed channels.\n\nIn the next five minutes, he got a symphony orchestra playing Walton's Violin Concerto, a discussion on the sad state of the legitimate theater, a western, a demonstration of a new headache cure, a panel game in some Oriental language, a psychodrama, three news commentaries, a football game, a lecture on solid geometry (in Russian), and several tuning signals and data transmissions. It was, in fact, a perfectly normal selection from the world's TV programs, and apart from the psychological uplift it gave him, it confirmed one suspicion that had already been forming in his mind.\n\nAll the programs were about two years old. That was around the time TMA-1 had been discovered, and it was hard to believe that this was a pure coincidence. Something had been monitoring the radio waves; that ebon block had been busier than men had suspected.\n\nHe continued to wander across the spectrum, and suddenly recognized a familiar scene. Here was this very suite, now occupied by a celebrated actor who was furiously denouncing an unfaithful mistress. Bowman looked with a shock of recognition upon the living room he had just left - and when the camera followed the indignant couple toward the bedroom, he involuntarily looked toward the door to see if anyone was entering.\n\nSo that was how this reception area had been prepared for him; his hosts had based their ideas of terrestrial living upon TV programs. His feeling that he was inside a movie set was almost literally true.\n\nHe had learned all that he wished to for the moment, and turned off the set. What do I do now? he asked himself, locking his fingers behind his head and staring up at the blank screen.\n\nHe was physically and emotionally exhausted, yet it seemed impossible that one could sleep in such fantastic surroundings, and farther from Earth than any man in history had ever been. But the comfortable bed, and the instinctive wisdom of the body, conspired together against his will.\n\nHe fumbled for the light switch, and the room was plunged into darkness. Within seconds, he had passed beyond the reach of dreams.\n\nSo, for the last time, David Bowman slept.\n\n[ Recapitulation ]\n\nThere being no further use for it, the furniture of the suite dissolved back into the mind of its creator. Only the bed remained - and the walls, shielding this fragile organism from the energies it could not yet control.\n\nIn his sleep, David Bowman stirred restlessly. He did not wake, nor did he dream, but he was no longer wholly unconscious. Like a fog creeping through a forest, something invaded his mind. He sensed it only dimly, for the full impact would have destroyed him as surely as the fires raging beyond these walls. Beneath that dispassionate scrutiny, he felt neither hope nor fear; all emotion had been leached away.\n\nHe seemed to be floating in free space, while around him stretched, in all directions, an infinite geometrical grid of dark lines or threads, along which moved tiny nodes of light - some slowly, some at dazzling speed.\n\nOnce he had peered through a microscope at a cross-section of a human brain, and in its network of nerve fibers had glimpsed the same labyrinthine complexity. But that had been dead and static, whereas this transcended life itself. He knew - or believed he knew - that he was watching the operation of some gigantic mind, contemplating the universe of which he was so tiny a part.\n\nThe vision, or illusion, lasted only a moment. Then the crystalline planes and lattices, and the interlocking perspectives of moving light, flickered out of existence, as David Bowman moved into a realm of consciousness that no man had experienced before.\n\nAt first, it seemed that Time itself was running backward. Even this marvel he was prepared to accept, before be realized the subtler truth.\n\nThe springs of memory were being tapped; in controlled recollection, he was reliving the past. There was the hotel suite - there the space pod - there the burning starscapes of the red sun - there the shining core of the galaxy - there the gateway through which he had reemerged into the universe. And not only vision, but all the sense impressions, and all the emotions he had felt at the time, were racing past, more and more swiftly. His life was unreeling like a tape recorder playing back at ever-increasing speed.\n\nNow he was once more aboard the Discovery and the rings of Saturn filled the sky. Before that, he was repeating his final dialogue with Hal; he was seeing Frank Poole leave on his last mission; he was hearing the voice of Earth, assuring him that all was well.\n\nAnd even as he relived these events, he knew that all indeed was well. He was retrogressing down the corridors of time, being drained of knowledge and experience as he swept back toward his childhood. But nothing was being lost; all that be had ever been, at every moment of his life, was being transferred to safer keeping. Even as one David Bowman ceased to exist, another became immortal.\n\nFaster, faster he moved back into forgotten years, and into a simpler world. Faces he had once loved, and had thought lost beyond recall, smiled at him sweetly. He smiled back with fondness, and without pain.\n\nNow, at last, the headlong regression was slackening; the wells of memory were nearly dry. Time flowed more and more sluggishly, approaching a moment of stasis - as a swinging pendulum, at the limit of its arc, seems frozen for one eternal instant, before the next cycle begins.\n\nThe timeless instant passed; the pendulum reversed its swing. In an empty room, floating amid the fires of a double star twenty thousand light-years from Earth, a baby opened its eyes and began to cry.\n\n[ Transformation ]\n\nThen it became silent, as it saw that it was no longer alone.\n\nA ghostly, glimmering rectangle had formed in the empty air. It solidified into a crystal tablet, lost its transparency, and became suffused with a pale, milky luminescence. Tantalizing, ill-defined phantoms moved across its surface and in its depths. They coalesced into bars of lights and shadow, then formed intermeshing, spoked patterns that began slowly to rotate, in time with the pulsing rhythm that now seemed to fill the whole of space.\n\nIt was a spectacle to grasp and hold the attention of any child - or of any man-ape. But, as it had been three million years before, it was only the outward manifestation of forces too subtle to be consciously perceived. It was merely a toy to distract the senses, while the real processing was carried out at far deeper levels of the mind.\n\nThis time, the processing was swift and certain, as the new design was woven. For in the eons since their last meeting, much had been learned by the weaver; and the material on which he practiced his art was now of an infinitely finer texture. But whether it should be permitted to form part of his still-growing tapestry, only the future could tell.\n\nWith eyes that already held more than human intentness, the baby stared into the depths of the crystal monolith, seeing - but not yet understanding - the mysteries that lay beyond. It knew that it had come home, that here was the origin of many races besides its own; but it knew also that it could not stay. Beyond this moment lay another birth, stranger than any in the past.\n\nNow the moment had come; the glowing patterns no longer echoed the secrets in the crystal's heart. As they died, so too the protective walls faded back into the nonexistence from which they bad briefly emerged, and the red sun filled the sky.\n\nThe metal and plastic of the forgotten space pod, and the clothing once worn by an entity who had called himself David Bowman, flashed into flame. The last links with Earth were gone, resolved back into their component atoms.\n\nBut the child scarcely noticed, as he adjusted himself to the comfortable glow of his new environment. He still needed, for a little while, this shell of matter as the focus of his powers. His indestructible body was his mind's present image of itself; and for all his powers, he knew that he was still a baby. So he would remain until he had decided on a new form, or had passed beyond the necessities of matter.\n\nAnd now it was time to go - though in one sense he would never leave this place where he had been reborn, for he would always be part of the entity that used this double star for its unfathomable purposes. The direction, though not the nature, of his destiny was clear before him, and there was no need to trace the devious path by which he had come. With the instincts of three million years, he now perceived that there were more ways than one behind the back of space. The ancient mechanisms of the Star Gate had served him well, but he would not need them again.\n\nThe glimmering rectangular shape that had once seemed no more than a slab of crystal still floated before him, indifferent as he was to the harmless flames of the inferno beneath. It encapsulated yet unfathomed secrets of space and time, but some at least he now understood and was able to command. How obvious - how necessary - was that mathematical ratio of its sides, the quadratic sequence 1 : 4 : 9! And how naive to have imagined that the series ended at this point, in only three dimensions!\n\nHe focused his mind upon these geometrical simplicities, and as his thoughts brushed against it, the empty framework filled with the darkness of the interstellar night. The glow of the red sun faded - or, rather, seemed to recede in all directions at once - and there before him was the luminous whirlpool of the galaxy.\n\nIt might have been some beautiful, incredibly detailed model, embedded in a block of plastic. But it was the reality, grasped as a whole with senses now more subtle than vision. If he wished, he could focus his attention upon any one of its hundred billion stars; and he could do much more than that.\n\nHere he was, adrift in this great river of suns, halfway between the banked fires of the galactic core and the lonely, scattered sentinel stars of the rim. And here he wished to be, on the far side of this chasm in the sky, this serpentine band of darkness, empty of all stars. He knew that this formless chaos, visible only by the glow that limned its edges from fire-mists far beyond, was the still unused stuff of creation, the raw material of evolutions yet to be. Here, Time had not begun; not until the suns that now burned were long since dead would light and life reshape this void.\n\nUnwittingly, he had crossed it once; now he must cross it again - this time, of his own volition. The thought filled him with a sudden, freezing terror, so that for a moment he was wholly disorientated, and his new vision of the universe trembled and threatened to shatter into a thousand fragments.\n\nIt was not fear of the galactic gulfs that chilled his soul, but a more profound disquiet, stemming from the unborn future. For he had left behind the time scales of his human origin; now, as he contemplated that band of starless night, he knew his first intimations of the Eternity that yawned before him.\n\nThen he remembered that he would never be alone, and his panic slowly ebbed. The crystal-clear perception of the universe was restored to him - not, he knew, wholly by his own efforts. When he needed guidance in his first faltering steps, it would be there.",
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"value": "The galaxy burst forth from the mental frame in which he had enclosed it; stars and nebulae poured past him in an illusion of infinite speed. Phantom suns exploded and fell behind as he slipped like a shadow through their cores; the cold, dark waste of cosmic dust which he had once feared seemed no more than the beat of a raven's wing across the face of the Sun.\n\nThe stars were thinning out; the glare of the Milky Way was dimming into a pale ghost of the glory he had known - and, when he was ready, would know again.\n\nHe was back, precisely where he wished to be, in the space that men called real.\n\n[ Star-Child ]\n\nThere before him, a glittering toy no Star-Child could resist, floated the planet Earth with all its peoples.\n\nHe had returned in time. Down there on that crowded globe, the alarms would be flashing across the radar screens, the great tracking telescopes would be searching the skies - and history as men knew it would be drawing to a close.\n\nA thousand miles below, he became aware that a slumbering cargo of death had awoken, and was stirring sluggishly in its orbit. The feeble energies it contained were no possible menace to him; but he preferred a cleaner sky. He put forth his will, and the circling megatons flowered in a silent detonation that brought a brief, false dawn to half the sleeping globe. Then he waited, marshaling his thoughts and brooding over his still untested powers. For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next.\n\nBut he would think of something.\n\n⁂\n\n[ Epilogue: After 2001 ]\n\nThe novel 2001: A Space Odyssey was written during the years 1964-1968 and was published in July 1968, shortly after release of the movie. As I have described in The Lost Worlds of 2001, both projects proceeded simultaneously, with feedback in each direction.\n\nThus I often had the strange experience of revising the manuscript after viewing rushes based upon an earlier version of the story - a stimulating but rather expensive way of writing a novel.\n\nAs a result, there is a much closer parallel between book and movie than is usually the case, but there are also major differences. In the novel, the destination of the spaceship Discovery was Iapetus (or Japetus), most enigmatic of Saturn's many moons. The Saturnian system was reached via Jupiter: Discovery made a close approach to the giant planet, using its enormous gravitational field to produce a \"slingshot\" effect and to accelerate it along the second lap of its journey. Exactly the same maneuver was used by the Voyager space-probes in 1979, when they made the first detailed reconnaissance of the outer giants.\n\nIn the movie, however, Stanley Kubrick wisely avoided confusion by setting the third confrontation between Man and Monolith among the moons of Jupiter. Saturn was dropped from the script entirely, though Douglas Trumbull later used the expertise he had acquired filming the ringed planet in his own production, Silent Running.\n\nNo one could have imagined, back in the mid-sixties, that the exploration of the moons of Jupiter lay not in the next century but only fifteen years ahead. Nor had anyone dreamed of the wonders that would be found there - although we can be quite certain that the discoveries of the twin Voyagers will one day be surpassed by even more unexpected finds. When 2001 was written, Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto were mere pinpoints of light in even the most powerful telescope; now they are worlds, each unique, and one of them - Io - the most volcanically active body in the Solar System.\n\nYet all things considered, both movie and book stand up quite well in the light of these discoveries. There are no major changes I would wish to make to the text, and it is fascinating to compare the Jupiter sequences in the film with the actual movies from the Voyager cameras.\n\nIt must also be remembered that 2001 was written in an age that now lies beyond one of the Great Divides in human history; we are sundered from it forever by the moment when Neil Armstrong set foot upon the Moon. July 20, 1969, was still half a decade in the future when Stanley Kubrick and I started thinking about the \"proverbial good science fiction movie\" (his phrase). Now history and fiction have become inextricably intertwined.\n\nThe Apollo astronauts had already seen the film when they left for the Moon. The crew of Apollo 8, who at Christmas 1968 became the first men ever to set eyes upon the lunar Farside, told me that they had been tempted to radio back the discovery of a large, black monolith: alas, discretion prevailed...\n\nAnd there were later, almost uncanny, instances of nature imitating art. Strangest of all was the saga of Apollo 13 in 1970.\n\nAs a good opening, the Command Module, which houses the crew, had been christened Odyssey. Just before the explosion of the oxygen tank which caused the mission to be aborted, the crew had been playing Richard Strauss' Zarathustra theme, now universally identified with the movie. Immediately after the loss of power, Jack Swigert radioed back to Mission Control: \"Houston, we've had a problem.\" The words that Hal used to Frank Poole on a similar occasion were: \"Sorry to interrupt the festivities, but we have a problem.\"\n\nWhen the report of the Apollo 13 mission was later published, NASA Administrator Tom Paine sent me a copy and noted under Swigert's words: \"Just as you always said it would be, Arthur.\" I still get a very strange feeling when I contemplate this whole series of events - almost, indeed, as if I share a certain responsibility...\n\nAnother resonance is less serious, but equally striking. One of the most technically brilliant sequences in the movie was that in which astronaut Frank Poole was shown running round and round the circular track of the giant centrifuge, held in place by the \"artificial gravity\" produced by its spin.\n\nAlmost a decade later, the crew of the superbly successful Skylab realized that its designers had provided them with a similar geometry; a ring of storage cabinets formed a smooth, circular band around the space station's interior. Skylab, however, was not spinning, but this did not deter its ingenious occupants. They discovered that they could run around the track, just like mice in a squirrel cage, to produce a result visually indistinguishable from that shown in 2001. And they televised the whole exercise back to Earth (need I name the accompanying music?) with the comment: \"Stanley Kubrick should see this.\" As in due course he did, because I sent him the telecine recording. (I never got it back; Stanley uses a tame Black Hole as a filing system.)\n\nThere is also the strange case of the \"Eye of Japetus,\" described in Chapter 35, where Bowman discovers \"a brilliant white oval... so sharp-edged that it almost looked... painted on the face of the little moon\" with a tiny black dot at the exact center, which turns out to be the Monolith (or one of its avatars).\n\nWell - when Voyager 1 took the first photographs of Iapetus, they did indeed disclose a large, clear-cut white oval with a tiny black dot at the center. Carl Sagan promptly sent me a print from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory with the cryptic annotation \"Thinking of you...\" I do not know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Voyager 2 has left the matter still open.\n\nWhen, fourteen years ago, I typed the final words \"For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next. But he would think of something\" I felt I had closed the circuit and precluded all possibility of a sequel. Indeed, for the next decade I ridiculed the very idea, for what seemed to me conclusive reasons. Since 2001 was concerned with the next stage of human evolution, to expect me (or even Stanley) to depict it would be as absurd as asking Moon-watcher to describe Bowman and his world.\n\nDespite my protests, it is now obvious that my busy little subconscious was hard at work, perhaps in response to the constant stream of letters from readers wanting to know \"what happened next.\" Finally, as an intellectual exercise, I wrote a précis of a possible sequel in the form of a short movie outline and sent copies to Stanley Kubrick and my agent, Scott Meredith. As far as Stanley was concerned, this was an act of courtesy, for I knew that he never repeats himself (just as I never write sequels), but I hoped that Scott would sell the outline to Omni magazine, which had recently published another outline, \"The Songs of Distant Earth.\" Then, I fondly hoped, the ghost of 2001 would be finally exorcised.\n\nStanley expressed guarded interest, but Scott was enthusiastic - and implacable. \"You've simply got to write the book,\" he said. With a groan, I realized that he was right...\n\nSo now, gentle reader (to coin a phrase), you can find what happens next in 2010: Space Odyssey Two. I am extremely grateful to New American Library, copyright holders of 2001: A Space Odyssey, for permission to use Chapter 37 in the new novel; It serves as a link, connecting the two books together.\n\nA final comment on both novels as seen from a point now almost exactly midway between the year 2001 and the time when Stanley Kubrick and I started working together. Contrary to popular belief, science fiction writers very seldom attempt to predict the future; indeed, as Ray Bradbury put it so well, they more often try to prevent it. In 1964, the first heroic period of the Space Age was just opening; the United States had set the Moon as its target, and once that decision had been made, the ultimate conquest of the other planets, appeared inevitable. By 2001, it seemed quite reasonable that there would be giant space-stations in orbit round the Earth and - a little later - manned expeditions to the planets.\n\nIn an ideal world, that would have been possible: the Vietnam War would have paid for everything that Stanley Kubrick showed on the Cinerama screen. Now we realize that it will take a little longer.\n\n2001 will not arrive by 2001. Yet - barring accidents - by that date almost everything depicted in the book and the movie will be in the advanced planning stage.\n\nExcept for communication with alien intelligences: that is something that can never be planned - only anticipated. No one knows whether it will happen tomorrow - or a thousand years hence.\n\nBut it will happen someday.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Write eighty-one sentences sentences in the style of A. A. Albright spawning from what the user wrote, within the contemporary genre. This is part of a longer narrative where characters and events may have prior context.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a warm July morning as I tailed one of my best friends, a wizard-turned-dog called Hamish, through the dodgiest magical enclave in Dublin City. As he loped his way along the winding streets, he had no idea that I was just a few steps behind. Instead of my usual frizzy mess of auburn hair, my locks were dark and sleek. I was taller than usual, too, and definitely slimmer. None of this was thanks to a crash diet, high heels and a dye-job, though; my new appearance was a temporary one, courtesy of a glamour cloak.\n\nNow, I know what you're thinking: using magical cloaks to spy on friends is not a nice way to pass the morning. It's nosey, and interfering, and controlling. But I wasn't doing this because I wanted to. As a private investigator, I normally reserved my nosiness for cheating spouses, missing persons and maniacal murderers.\n\nI had tried speaking to Hamish before I turned my investigations in his direction. I'd even tried simply being patient, waiting for him to tell me what was wrong in his own time. But as it grew ever more clear that something was going on, and that he was never going to tell me about it, well… I grew desperate.\n\nAnyway, it wasn't as if he knew that I was seriously overstepping his boundaries. He had no idea that I'd been following him for days, and what he didn't know couldn't irritate him, right?\n\nWith my glamour cloak on, I looked like one of my vampire clients, Valerian, a woman Hamish had never met because he hadn't been in work very much for the past few days. Every so often I'd catch my reflection in a shop window and, as I did, I wondered: should I wear more lipstick and eyeliner on a daily basis? And why didn't I wear low-cut tops more often?\n\n'Oi, I'd let you bite me any day, gorgeous,' cried a Materialization worker from a nearby construction site.\n\n'How chivalrous,' I muttered.\n\n'Oh, look who thinks she's too good for me!' the worker shouted back. 'I only felt sorry for you because you're so ugly, but I won't make that mistake again. And if you don't want men to compliment you, then you should wear something a bit more modest, shouldn't you!'\n\nI had more important things to worry about today, but I paused just long enough to glare at him and say, 'Go on, say something else, I dare you – because I'm telling you, you wouldn't like it if I really did bite you!'\n\nHe looked away, his face flaming, and I'm sure I heard him mumble, 'What a nutter,' to his co-workers. Instead of continuing the argument, I quickened my steps as Hamish headed into Desperation Row, one of the rougher areas of the enclave. Yes, even in the roughest enclave in Ireland, there are good parts and bad parts, and Desperation Row was, well, desperate.\n\nToday, though, there was something incredibly pleasing on the street: a shop called Tinsleys' Workshop and Winter Wonderland. The workshop had always been here, making toys to sell in Tinsleys' many toy shops. But the Winter Wonderland hadn't been here last time I visited the area. The ground floor had been boarded up.\n\nMy eyes lit up as I spotted yet another holiday-themed shop, a couple of buildings along – but those peepers of mine soon dimmed again when I noticed that this shop was far dingier than the first. Its sign read: Hammers' House of Holidays, Selling Decorations and Gifts for the Special Occasions in Your Life. Inside, I could see a couple of drab sets of lights, a brown and bare Christmas tree, and some shelves filled with plastic toys.\n\nWith a shudder, I turned my attention back to Tinsleys' Workshop and Winter Wonderland, and took a look through the frosted-edged windows. There was a man in a Santa suit walking around, as well as a lot of young female workers, who looked rather a lot like elves, or at least they'd been dressed to appear that way.\n\nTheir costumes were identical – short green skirts and tight jumpers, with little hats on their heads, gloves on their hands and knee-high boots. But their faces, hair and bodies were incredibly similar, too. Every woman was a short, slim brunette in her twenties, with delicate features and big brown eyes. Whoever did the hiring for this place really had a type.\n\nI took a look at each woman through my Aurameter. 'Ah, so they're definitely not real elves, then,' I muttered to myself, noting that, despite how they were dressed, the shop's workforce was made up of three weredogs, two werewolves, two vampires and a witch. Had I been hoping that at least one of them might be an actual elf? Well, obviously. But I had it on good authority that real elves were shorter and angrier than any of these women.\n\nI could see that they had a grotto in there, where people could come and tell Santa their Christmas wishes, surrounded by fake snow, animatronic reindeer, snowmen and candy canes.\n\nThere were gorgeous handmade toys displayed throughout the space, as well as trees and decorations for sale, and Christmas tunes playing on the stereo system.\n\nI knew that the shop couldn't possibly be targeting witches, because witches celebrated Winter Solstice – a holiday that didn't include indoor trees or Santa, and one that they usually only shopped for at the very last minute. Weredogs, though – now they loved Christmas more than enough to start their shopping in July.\n\nAnd today, I might as well have been a weredog, because this shop excited me more than anything I'd seen for months. I'd been waiting for summer to get Christmassy ever since the voice in my head told me it would bring something long-awaited my way.\n\nAhem.\n\nI should probably explain what I mean by that. I don't generally have voices in my head, but ever since I discovered I was a witch hunter (the nice kind, honestly) I'd found myself in some strange and life-threatening situations. One of those situations was a train ride where I, and most of the passengers, nearly wound up sacrificed as part of an immortality spell. The belongings of an ancient and powerful woman called Foirfe were being used to carry out the spell, and it seemed that even though she was long dead, Foirfe did not like people using her stuff. She possessed me so that she could help me save the day; without her help, we wouldn't have survived.\n\nUnfortunately, in order to stop the spell, I needed to destroy something Hamish really could have used: a Pillar of Permanence. But before she vacated my brain, Foirfe told me: 'There is one pillar I know the location of. You shall find it in summertime, in the house where it's always Christmas…'\n\nAs prophecies went, it was an odd one, but I'd been searching for anything that could bring me closer to Hamish's salvation ever since.\n\nOr… I had been, until the last few days, when Hamish began to behave strangely. He was disappearing for hours at a time, he was off his food, and his accent was more Scottish than ever (a definite sign that he was upset).\n\nHamish slowed his steps, so I slowed mine down too, watching as he headed in through the open door of Aim Low, a second-hand broom shop. On the signage above the door, just below the store's name, some inspiring words were spelled out: Our brooms might not be new, but they're not completely useless.\n\nI hung about outside, pretending to reapply my dark red lipstick while I kept an eye on the shop through my compact mirror.\n\nHamish was a regular at this broom shop. When he'd been a man, he'd loved flying his Whiz Bang Blast. He still went for rides, only now he sat in the sidecar while I controlled the broom. Sometimes he came here to chat to Sol, the owner, about unusual brooms or accessories, and he always had a wistful glint in his eye as he looked at the items for sale.\n\nAfter a few minutes of chatting (nothing I could hear), Hamish moved away from Sol and headed up the staircase, leaving Sol in the shop alone.\n\nSol was a lanky man with a shaven head. As usual he was chewing gum, wearing brightly-coloured trousers (pink today) and looking just about ready to scarper, but his eyes lit up as I walked in. 'Valerian! I thought you said you never wanted to see me again.'\n\nFluff! Sol knew the gorgeous Valerian? They did not seem like they'd move in the same social circles.\n\n'Look, I know that all of those brooms I sold you crashed and caused some damage,' he continued. 'But the riders were vampires and they all healed really quickly after falling from such a great height so… no harm done?'\n\nAh. He knew her in a dodgy business way. That made more sense.\n\n'Sol, I'm very annoyed with you,' I said, trying to imitate Valerian's sexy tones (I sounded more like I had a bad cold). 'I think we should go upstairs and discuss this.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His face grew panicked, and his chewing grew more frantic.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'We can discuss things down here. You just wait here and I'll get you a cup of coffee.'\n\n'What's upstairs that you don't want me to see? More dodgy business? Look, you owe me a lot of money, Sol. I bought those brooms in good faith.' I doubted that was true. No one who did business with Sol was doing so in good faith. Occasionally he got his hands on an amazing broom that wasn't also a stolen one, but it was usually down to an accident or a fluke, rather than his business acumen.\n\n'I've just… a friend is up there. Please, Valerian, don't march up to my flat like you always do, like you own the place.'\n\nHuh. I could work with that. I marched past him, and closed the door that separated the shop from the staircase, turning the key and saying, 'I will own this place if you don't get your act together and reimburse me, Sol. And don't you dare ask me to open this door up unless it's to give me my money.'\n\nHe banged on the door but I ignored him, rushing up the stairs and stopping short as I reached a small landing. The door to Sol's flat was open, and a man was sitting at a table, handsome and still. I'd seen him before, except naked. I shuddered at the memory, because when someone is strictly a friend, it's incredibly disturbing to recall the time you accidentally saw them without any clothes on. It had been a mistake, a glimpse of Hamish's true self through my Aurameter – a glimpse I'd worked very hard not to see again.\n\nToday, thankfully, he was fully dressed – except for one thing. The bright yellow hat he'd been wearing earlier on was strewn all over the carpet, torn into hundreds of pieces, as though it had exploded. But what could have made a magical wizard's hat explode into so many pieces? Had he used up all of the hat's magic on a spell? Had he finally flaming done it, and found a way to turn himself from a dog into a man?\n\n'Hamish?' My heart began to flutter, and I rushed towards him. 'You did it, you actually did it! You turned yourself back into a man. But… how? Why didn't you say anything? Did you find another Pillar of Permanence? What happened to your hat, and–?' I broke off in the middle of my many excited questions. Hamish wasn't answering me. He wasn't even looking my way.\n\nWarily, I waved a hand in front of his face. 'Hamish?'\n\nHe still didn't move, so I gently squeezed his shoulder. 'Hamish?'\n\nA second Hamish, one still in a dog's body, ran in from an adjoining room in the flat. I stared at the doggy Hamish, then at the manly Hamish, then at the doggy Hamish once more. 'What's going on?' I asked.\n\n'Who are you?' the doggy Hamish demanded to know. 'Are you a friend of Sol's?'\n\n'Crap!' I quickly unscrewed the toggle on the glamour cloak that no one but me could see. Inside it, there was a strand of Valerian's hair, enabling me to take on her appearance. I whispered:\n\n'Hide no more so all shall see\n\nMy true face, the real me.'\n\nThere was a moment of extreme discomfort as my real hair and body returned, stretching out my Valerian-esque clothes beyond all decency.\n\n'Katy? What are you doing here? Why were you in disguise?' He groaned. 'You were tailing me, weren't you? Following me? Why?'\n\nI placed my hands on my hips. 'Because I'm a very caring individual who always looks out for her friends, that's why. But let's not get sidetracked here, Hamish.'\n\nHe stared at me, open-mouthed. 'Caring? Being nosey is not the same as being caring.'\n\n'Tell that to all of our satisfied clients.' I pointed at the man on the chair. 'Who is he, Hamish? Or… what is he? Why does he look exactly like you – well, like the way you looked before you were a dog – and why is he saying nothing?'\n\nHamish sighed. 'Isn't it obvious? He's a robot, Katy.'\n\n'Oh.' I tucked the glamour cloak into my bag. 'Yeah, I guess it was obvious, actually.' Or at least it should have been. Hamish worked with me as a private investigator, but he was also a professor at Wentforth's College for Wizards, specialising in computing and robotics.\n\nFor a long time he'd avoided the college, and anything that reminded him of the life he had before he'd been turned into a dog, but lately he'd been taking on small projects at Wentforth's, and he was even working on a top secret transport project for the Wayfarers. I'd been so happy for him – right up until the last few days, when his strange behaviour had begun.\n\nThis robot didn't explain everything he'd been doing while I followed him, but it explained a lot of it.\n\n'He's not really working out,' Hamish continued. 'He looks exactly like I used to, but looks are where his usefulness ends. I… I'll just come out and say it, I suppose. I created this robot in the hope that I could transfer my consciousness out of this body and into the robot's, but it's not working. I think it might be something to do with the spell that locked me in this dog's body in the first place. I mean, we knew it was strong, but it's sooooo strong. I cannae even cheat my way around it. And on this latest terrible attempt, I even destroyed my favourite ever hat.'\n\n'Oh, Hamish, I'm so sorry about your hat. I know how much you liked it. But I didn't even know you were doing this. I mean, you know we're going to find that other pillar, right? It's like Foirfe said when she entered my consciousness: \"You shall find it in summertime, in the house where it's always Christmas…\"'\n\nWith a frustrated groan, he hopped up onto a chair.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'Katy, you've been sneaking all over the world with Cullen, trying to find a pillar.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "You wouldn't have been doing that if you really believed we're just going to stumble across it someday soon.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'No. No, I mean… yes, I've been travelling around with Cullen. But we've just been holidaying. I mean, if we happened to be in some sunny climate and hear mention of a house where it was always Christmas, then it would have been a happy coincidence.'\n\n'Oh, pull the other one, Katy. You've been working your behind off, travelling around in search of this house and pillar because you're just like me. You've been on this planet long enough to know that good things don't come to those who wait. Mostly, good things come to criminals who steal them off other people. But sometimes – just sometimes, mind you – they also come to people who work their behinds off. Although even those people don't always get the things they want. You need that elusive combination of hard work and luck, and… and I'm grateful that you're putting the hard work in, Katy, and I hope that one of us will also have the luck we need to find this house. But while you're doing your thing, I'm just… I'm covering the other bases, you know. The just in cases bases.'\n\nWell, that had been a far too frazzled speech for someone who was simply covering the bases. I thought of the last places he'd been when I'd followed him: a visit to Healer Little, an animal healer from Riddler's Cove, and a couple of meetings with Shane Moore, the Wayfarer healer (Shane spent more of his time dealing with dead bodies than live ones, so he was more of a magical medical examiner than a healer, but the magical world hadn't yet created a term for that).\n\nAs I looked at the robot, and thought of those recent trips of Hamish's, a horrible realisation occurred. 'Hamish, are you… you're not sick, are you?'\n\nHe hung his head. 'Not sick, no. Not exactly. Nothing that's happening to me is in any way unnatural. I'm just…' He lifted his head and gazed at me with his big brown eyes. 'Katy, I've been feeling tired and achy lately. So I went and saw some people, and, well… it turns out that I don't just look like a dog. I'm also aging at the rate a dog would. Not a magical dog who can bind himself to a witch as a familiar and live for a hundred years if he's lucky. But… an average dog.'\n\nI rested against the doorframe, feeling a little bit dizzy. I'd known Hamish for two years now, and in those two years he'd come to mean a lot to me. The thought of anything happening to him… well, it was a thought I didn't want to think. 'How long are we talking about?'\n\nThere was a moment of silence before he replied. 'Well, Healer Little and Healer Moore have run some tests. They estimated that when Jonathan created this spell, the dog he turned me into was about fourteen or fifteen. So I'm… I'm already quite old, in doggie terms.'\n\nHe coughed a little. 'And apparently I've been abusing this body a bit, what with the wine and the fine food. They think I've got less than two years, perhaps a little bit more if I change my eating habits. They also think that, as this body ages even further, I won't be able to channel magic anymore, so… I won't be able to communicate, either. Unless, that is, you happen to be fluent in \"Woof!\" I hoped that I could get around it by sticking my consciousness into this robot, but… it's not working. Like I said – I don't think Jonathan's spell is one that'll let me cheat my way out of it.'\n\nI couldn't manage much more than a strangled-sounding, 'No,' as I knelt in front of him, throwing my arms around his furry body.\n\n'Yes. And I do hope we'll find another Pillar of Permanence this summer, in some house where it's always Christmas, but… well, firstly, when does Irish summer actually begin? And how long does it last? Not very, Katy. Not very long at all. Last year we had a gorgeous spell of weather during May and a couple of days of double digits in June, but then it rained until October.'\n\n'But it is summer. I mean, it's July, right? I know it doesn't look much like it, but – officially, anyway – this is summertime. It's… it's vaguely warm outside, and it hasn't rained for at least an hour. And… oh! Next door. Why didn't you tell me about that place? The Winter Wonderland at Tinsleys'. It's always Christmas there, right?'\n\n'Katy, I didnae see the point of telling you about it because that's a shop, not a house. When Foirfe was chattering away in your noggin, she quite specifically said \"house\".'\n\n'Well, yeah but… I'll bet there's a living area above the shop, like there is above this one. A flat could be considered a house by some people. I mean… it's a home, anyway.'\n\n'Katy, there's a workshop above that shop, not a flat. All year round, workers are busy making toys for all of the Tinsleys' toy shops. And then, come summer they open up the Christmas shop downstairs, because weredogs start buying decorations early. There's nae house there. Not even a home.'\n\n'Yes, but there could be a living space above the workshop. A little flat in the attic, maybe, and–'\n\n'And remember,' he added, interrupting me as he wriggled out of my grasp, 'we have a friend in that coven. Bob, who we rode the Riddler's Express with. If another member of the Tinsley coven had a Pillar of Permanence, Bob would have told me about it.'\n\n'But–'\n\n'Whisht, Katy!'\n\n'Don't you whisht me! I'm trying to be your friend, Hamish. I know you have every reason to be grumpy right now, but please don't take it out on me.'\n\nHe shook his head and ran to the window. 'I wasnae telling you to whisht because you were annoying me. Well… you were being a bit annoying, but not much more than usual. I was telling you to whisht because I thought I heard something. Like… someone crying out. Maybe I was wrong. Oh.' With two paws on the windowsill, he stared outside. 'I guess I wasn't wrong.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I followed him to the window.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There, in the back yard of the building next door, a man in a Santa costume was sprawled out, his body impaled on an enormous rusty Christmas star.\n\n'You call the Wayfarers, and I'll stick on my spare hat, and then we'll get down there.' Hamish rushed to a bag, pulling out a hat I'd never seen before, one in a deep, wintery shade of red. As I reached for my phone, he gave me a warning glance. 'I can see you looking at this hat, Katy. Don't say it. Don't you dare tell me how Christmassy this hat makes me look.'\n\n'Okay. I won't say it.' I could think it, though.\n\n[ One of Those Cute Little Elves Was Bound to Lose Her Cool ]\n\nHamish and I rushed downstairs and out through a small alleyway between Sol's shop and the next, which brought us into the back yard of Tinsleys'. I quickly called the Wayfarers as we went, and because everything's easier and quicker with magic, they were there before I ended the phone call.\n\nThere was Captain Finn Plimpton, along with some of his regular team members – Wanda, Gretel, Paul and Shane.\n\nA large crowd of the shop's elf-costumed women had gathered around the edges of the yard. The space was tiny, almost completely taken up by the Christmas star and the body impaled upon it, and they were struggling to get close to him, all of them surrounding the dead Santa Claus.\n\n'Get back from the body, ladies!' commanded Finn. 'Gretel.' He nodded to his colleague. 'Can you and Paul bring everyone back inside? Gather any other staff, too, and lock this place down. No one in or out until we've questioned everyone. Me and Wanda'll be out here with Shane for a minute, then we'll come in get started.'\n\nAs Gretel and Paul ushered the nearly-identical workers inside, Wanda and Shane approached the body. 'So what do we know?' Wanda asked, most of her attention on the dead man. 'He's the owner of this place, right?'\n\nHamish nodded. 'Giles Tinsley. Well, he's a Tinsley by marriage. I'm not sure what coven he was in before, but he couldn't have picked a more suitable one to marry into. He's into toymaking, and there are Tinsley toy shops and workshops all over the country. But the stuff that Giles produced here always sold more than the stuff made in any other workshop. Plus, his Winter Wonderland is always a big hit. It did so well that they opened up similar shops in every enclave.'\n\n'I've been in quite a few of them.' Wanda was inspecting the rusty star. 'But I didn't know this was the original.'\n\nWhile she and Shane continued to examine the scene, the captain frowned at me. 'Katy, why are you dressed like that?'\n\nI pulled at my skirt. 'It was a disguise, and never you mind why. Anyway, I've had enough of men shaming me today. I can wear a short skirt if I want.'\n\n'I'm not shaming you. It's just very unlike you, that's all.'\n\n'You have the legs for it,' Sol remarked.\n\nWe all spun around to gawp at the owner of Aim Low. 'When did you get here?' I asked.\n\n'Just now. I was standing at the window of the little kitchen in the back of my shop, and I saw Santa falling backwards through the air. Well… now that I'm here I realise it was Giles Tinsley dressed as Santa, which makes a lot more sense, seeing as I don't even believe in Santa. I was making a cup of coffee for Valerian when I saw him fall, so I didn't come straight away. She really likes her coffee, and I hoped it might make her forgive me for… well, a little bit of business that went wrong, through absolutely no fault of mine. But when I went to find her she'd already gone, so I figured I'd take a stroll and see what's going on over here. You know what's funny, though.' He looked me up and down. 'You're wearing the exact same outfit she is today.'\n\n'Sol.' I patted his shoulder. 'Valerian never came to your shop. It was me, pretending to be her. Wearing a glamour.'\n\nHis face took on a look of extreme panic. 'Are you investigating me for something? Because I'm innocent. Of everything.'\n\nHamish laid a paw on Sol's shaking leg. 'She was investigating me, pal. She was being a concerned friend. She wanted to know what I was doing in your flat.'\n\n'Ah. With all the weird robot stuff.' Sol nodded. 'I told you you should tell her.'\n\n'What weird robot stuff?' asked Finn.\n\nIn unison, Hamish and Sol replied, 'None of your beeswax!'\n\n'Anyway,' I said. 'That's why I'm dressed like her.'\n\n'Oh.' Sol sighed. 'I wish you were her. I thought maybe if Valerian wanted to argue about brooms then she might want to argue about other things.'\n\n'Always good to aim high, Sol,' Wanda quipped. 'So, a man falls from the window of a toymaking workshop, dressed as Santa in July. Welcome to Desperation Row.'\n\n'No, not welcome, actually.' Sol glared at Wanda. 'You're very unwelcome, as a matter of fact. And if you think I'm going to act as a witness or anything like that, then you can get rid of that notion, because I saw nothing, and even if I did, this is Samhain Street. We don't like the law in Samhain Street.'\n\n'Yeah, we've heard,' Finn replied with a groan.\n\n'You lot should get lost and hire Katy and Hamish to work on it instead,' Sol suggested.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'You know, because people actually trust them.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'I'll think about it, Sol, I really will.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "[System: Use 'worked' 2 times in response]",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Finn gave him a tight smile. 'But you've already told us that you were standing at your window when the body fell, so you already are a witness. Plus, you've got to have CCTV at the back of your shop, right? We'll want to see that, too.'\n\n'Hah! As if I have CCTV. No one on this street does. Anyway, all I said was I saw Giles Tinsley going splat. I saw nothing more than that. Nothing and no one, and I would swear to that in a court of law. Nothing else. No one else. At all. But I mean, it was bound to happen eventually, wasn't it? One of those cute little elves was bound to lose her cool, what with how Giles was–' Sol clamped a hand over his mouth.\n\n'What was that?' Finn asked.\n\n'Nothing,' Sol squeaked from behind his hand. 'I'm not telling you nothing. If you want to hear about how Giles Tinsley was having an affair with two of his elves and stringing his wife along at the same time, then you'll have to hear it from someone else. You'll… crap.' He looked imploringly at Finn. 'Just… whatever you do, just don't tell no one what I told you. I'll never sell a broom in this enclave again if people find out I ratted out the elves.'\n\nFinn patted his shoulder. 'I'll do my best, Sol. I'll do my best.'\n\nSol tottered off, mumbling, 'Bloody Wayfarers', beneath his breath.\n\nWhen Sol was gone, Shane Moore nodded to an open window on the building's second storey. 'So far, what I think was that he was pushed out of that window, hard. And obviously this star takes up most of the yard, so…'\n\nNow that I was closer, I could see that the bottom part of the rusted star had been jammed between some wooden pallets. Those pallets were keeping it upright, and it was exactly below the open window. Could the star have been placed there on purpose?\n\n'The workshop is on that floor,' said Hamish, pointing a paw up to the window. 'I've been up there before, visiting Giles. He was interested in studying robotics so he could invent a new line of toys, and he wanted to meet with me to discuss it. That room with the open window is his office, and everyone in the workshop could easily see anyone leaving or entering that room – unless they used magic, of course. And let's not rule out that it could have been someone who worked for him. I mean, I have heard rumours that he's a bit of a philanderer, so what Sol said about him having affairs with two of the elves is hardly beyond the realms of possibility.'\n\n'Well, if Sol is to be believed,' Finn said, 'then maybe Giles annoyed one of those women so much that she pushed him. Hey, is it me, or do they all look really, really alike?'\n\nHamish sniggered. 'That's Giles for you. He only ever hires good-looking women. Although to be fair to him, they're also excellent toymakers and store assistants. Still… it's a little bit disturbing when you consider that they don't just look like each other. They also look like younger versions of his wife, Theresa.'\n\n'Yeah, that's more than just a little bit disturbing. It's totally messed up.' Finn took in a breath, looking at the entrance to the building. 'I don't think I can come up with an excuse that'll make it all right for you and Katy to sit in on the interviews, so we'll have to catch you up later on. We–'\n\nHe broke off, as Gretel emerged from the building.\n\n'They won't talk, boss,' she informed him. 'They're refusing. Because, you know, they don't like the law here in Samhain Street. They've requested Katy and Hamish sit in on the interviews. They say they'll only feel safe with them there.'\n\n'Seriously?' Finn grinned. 'Well, that is astonishingly convenient.'\n\n[ Falling Hard ]\n\nA little while later, Shane took the body to the morgue and the rest of us headed inside. Gretel and Paul were busy examining the building – concentrating most of their efforts on Giles's office – and while they did that, Hamish and I went to the break room, where Finn and Wanda were interviewing the staff members.\n\nAfter the eighth of the clones left the room, I began to wonder why they'd wanted Hamish and me here at all, because despite stating that our presence would make them more comfortable, each attractive brunette had nothing much to tell us. They all told a similar, basic story: that they'd all been on break, both Winter Wonderland staff and workshop staff, in their separate canteens. They'd assumed Giles was taking his break alone in his office, because his door was shut. They told us that one of the workers, a Winter Wonderland elf called Lucy, had seen Giles's fall through the window when she was rinsing out her coffee cup, and that after she shouted out, the rest of them had followed her outside.\n\nWhile they sat through their interviews, I took a look at each woman through my Aurameter. I'd already established that none of them were real elves, but I was interested to see how much magic each of them had. It seemed that, while the Winter Wonderland workers were comprised of a mixture of supernaturals, the workshop staff were mostly witches and wizards.\n\nFinally, there were only two workers remaining. The first of the two was a witch who worked as a toymaker. She walked in, wringing her hands and looking nervous.\n\n'Hello.' She sat down across from Finn and Wanda, casting a brief glance at Hamish and me. 'I'm Janine,' she said. 'Senior Toymaker. I… the others have already told you about me, I presume?'\n\nNo one had said a thing about Janine, but Wanda kept her face impassive. 'It doesn't matter what they've said,' she told the worker. 'We still want to hear what you have to say for yourself.'\n\n'Well…' Janine pulled at the green sleeves of her tight jumper. 'It's just that… well, I know they'll have assumed I was in the office with Giles. But I wasn't.'\n\n'Oh?' Finn raised a brow. 'So where were you then, Janine?'\n\nShe bowed her head. 'In the loo. I know no one can corroborate that, but it's true. I was going to go and talk to Giles during my tea break, so I know people will have told you about it. Everyone wanted things to work out well for me.",
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"value": "I was just… standing in front of the mirror and psyching myself up first.",
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"value": "So despite what the others will have told you, I wasn't in his office when he fell, and I have no idea what happened to him. All I know is that I heard Lucy screaming, and everyone running outside, and I went out along with them to see what was going on.'\n\n'Mm hm, mm hm.' Wanda made some notes. 'So what was it you were psyching yourself up for, Janine, while you were supposedly in the loo?'\n\nJanine glared at Wanda. 'Oh, don't pretend you don't know.'\n\nWanda returned her glare with a friendly smile. 'Let's act like I don't know, Janine. It'll be better for your sake if you tell us in your own words.'\n\n'I… I can see that, I suppose.' Janine bowed her head again. 'I… I was psyching myself up for my conversation with Giles. He'd been avoiding me all morning, and we were supposed to talk first thing. Because he… he was supposed to tell me what happened with his wife, when he ended things with her last night. So I went into the loo on my own to take in some deep breaths and calm myself down before I confronted him.'\n\nShe winced. 'Not that I was going to confront him, exactly. That was a poor choice of words. I just… I wanted to have a minute to myself before I went in there to discuss our future. I mean, so what if he hadn't ended it the last five times he promised he would? This time was different. I… I could see it in his eyes. It was me he loved, not Theresa. He hasn't loved her for years. He's always complaining about how she refuses to use glamour spells to keep herself looking young. And she has no interest in this place, or in any of his hobbies. I'm the one who's interested in his train set, and the songs he plays on his guitar.'\n\nShe sniffed back a tear. 'I should say played, I suppose. Because he'll n-never s-serenade me again!' She stared at Wanda. 'It was love. Me and Giles. It was. He told me he was falling hard for me. That I was the only woman he'd ever truly loved. And no matter what the others say, I believed him! I wouldn't have killed him in some jealous rage like I'll bet they were saying. Just because I ended things with my husband over him, and just because he was dragging his heels over leaving Theresa, it… it didn't mean anything. He loved me. And we were going to be together.'\n\nShe sat up, eager-looking now. 'Actually, I'll bet he did tell Theresa last night, like he said he was going to. I'll bet that's what happened. He told Theresa, and she took it badly, and then she magicked herself into his office this morning, and pushed him out the window, then clicked her fingers and scarpered, hoping to frame me in revenge. I'll bet she even left some other evidence in there so it would look like I was the killer.'\n\n'Oh?' Finn's left eyebrow lifted. 'Other evidence, you say? To frame you? Well, that's just awful. And… would you have any idea of what this other evidence might look like, Janine?'\n\nShe folded her arms. 'Of course not. How would I know? But I'm telling you, that's what must have happened. It was Theresa. It's the only explanation, because no one else would even dream of hurting Giles. Especially not me. I would never kill him. Why would I? He was the most wonderful man in the world, and we were going to be together forever.'\n\n[ Don't Derail the Gravy Train ]\n\nThere's little need for me to describe the physical appearance of the final worker to enter the break room; suffice to say she was much the same as the others. Her demeanour, though, was different. She seemed incredibly relaxed, and had somewhat of a spring to her step. My Aurameter told me she was a weredog, and that come full moon, she would take on the appearance of a cute little cairn terrier.\n\n'Lucy, isn't it?' Wanda smiled at the woman. 'You work in the Winter Wonderland. You're the one who saw Giles falling and alerted the others, is that right?'\n\nLucy took a seat and snorted. 'I'm surprised any of them told you that much.'\n\n'Really?' Finn stared at her. 'And why would that be?'\n\n'Oh, you know, because it's the way things are around here. A veil of secrecy over everything. And to think, when I first got the job here, I was over the moon.'\n\n'Everyone else seems to love working here,' Finn pointed out. 'Or, at the very least, they haven't said anything against it.'\n\nLucy snorted again. 'They don't like working here. Oh, maybe they did to begin with. Maybe, like me, they took this job because they were crazy about toys and about Christmas. But these days, all they care about is the bonuses they get for keeping their mouths shut. Although I don't know why they're still keeping quiet, to be honest. Giles can hardly pay us hush money now he's dead, can he?'\n\n'Hush money?' Wanda sat up straight. 'What was it Giles wanted you all to keep quiet about?'\n\n'Oh, you know, his general sleaziness. The fact that he was doing the dirty on his wife with as many younger women as he could.' She ran a hand through her hair.",
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"value": "'Look, it's not talked about.",
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"value": "None of us say it out in the open. When I walked in on Giles and Siobhan in his office three months ago, I didn't gossip about it. To anyone. Then, come next payday, I had a \"performance bonus\" in my pay packet. And I had to help out in payroll once, so I know that everyone gets something similar from time to time. As long as we don't talk about what a slimeball he is – or should I say, was – then we get rewarded. I got an even bigger bonus when he slapped my behind one day and I didn't report it to the head of his coven. You sort of… know how things are supposed to go, without anyone actually telling you, you know?'\n\n'Good goddess.' Finn looked sick. 'There are laws against that kind of thing, Lucy. And we do take reports seriously. I'm disgusted at what you've been through. The perpetrator might be dead, but we'll still help you to access a counsellor.'\n\n'Meh.' She shrugged. 'The truth is, I thought about reporting him at the time. But when I tried to broach it with the others – in a subtle way, of course – they all clammed up. Then over the next few hours I got some comments about not rocking the boat, not derailing the gravy train, that sort of stuff. So… I kept quiet.'\n\n'You mentioned someone called Siobhan,' Finn said, still looking sick and slightly pale. 'You said you caught them together in Giles's office. Siobhan is on a day off today. No one else seems to know why. Do you?'\n\n'I don't, actually.' Lucy replied. 'But I do know that Siobhan had a lot more than just a quick fumble with Giles. It was a full-on affair. I mean, I realise that poor, deluded Janine thought she was the only one. But Giles tried it on with everyone. And it became clear the longer I worked here that he had a certain type – a type that just happens to describe every single woman he hires.' She inched forward on her chair. 'Have you ever heard that rumour about the Tinsleys? About how there's a large part of the coven descended from elves?'\n\nWe all shook our heads, and Lucy continued. 'Well, it's just a rumour. But Giles, well… he likes to call his wife his little elf. He's not a Tinsley by blood, you know. Theresa is, though. And you can kind of see it when you look at her. She's short and cute and all that. But anyway, the point is, he has a thing for that sort of woman, and that's almost all he hired these days. Only women. I think the last guy he hired was…' She looked thoughtful. 'Yeah, it would have been Winston, I reckon.'\n\n'Winston?' Wanda questioned.\n\n'Winston Wolfe. He was an amazing toymaker, so he was. I mean, I thought Giles was good, but Winston was something else. But when Giles set his sights on Janine, Winston had to go.'\n\n'What did one thing have to do with the other?' questioned Finn.\n\n'Well, Winston was Janine's husband,' Lucy replied. 'Still is, officially – the divorce isn't finalised yet, although I think it's almost done. I told her she was an idiot, but for some unfathomable reason, she worshipped Giles.'\n\nLucy pulled at her short skirt. 'I kind of know the feeling. I worshipped him a bit, at first – because of what he does here. The workshop is so great, the Winter Wonderland is even better. But people can be two things, I guess. Amazing in one way, creepy as heck in another. Only Janine never seemed to see the creepy side of Giles.'\n\nWanda tapped her pen against her notepad. 'Lucy, did Janine and Siobhan know about each other?'\n\n'Well, Janine might not have known, but I'm pretty sure Siobhan was beginning to have an inkling.' She pulled at her skirt again. 'Look, I know it seems weird to you, but… Giles was good at making these idiots feel like they were the only woman in the world, and the rest of us… well, we knew better than to, like I said… derail the gravy train.'\n\nShe looked uncomfortable. 'I did try to hint at it, to both of them. Heck, I even gave strongly hinted warnings to make sure any new girls knew what he was like. But hinting was about all I ever dared to do, because I really did need this job. We all did. I have two kids, y'know. A lot of us have children. Even Janine – she has a little girl with Winston. Not that she lets him see her much anymore, but… yeah.'\n\n'What made you think Siobhan had an inkling that she wasn't the only one?' Finn asked, bringing things back on track.\n\nLucy shrugged. 'I bumped into her a couple of nights ago at the Bank. She was buying a bottle of fancy wine. She'd already had a couple of drinks, I reckon, because she was a bit tipsy. She said more to me in those few minutes than she'd said since we first met. She told me Giles was working late and she was going to surprise him. And she winked when she said it, so… y'know, make of that what you will. Anyway, yesterday morning she had a face like thunder, and she didn't speak to anyone all day. But she did shoot a couple of dirty looks at Janine when Janine wasn't looking. And Janine, bless her, she seemed completely oblivious to it all. So I think Siobhan must have heard them through the door of Giles's office the night before or something. But it's just guesswork on my part. You'd have to ask Siobhan and Janine about it to get the proper story, and I doubt they'd actually want to tell you the sordid details, so…'\n\n'Right.' Finn nodded.",
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"value": "'You're very helpful, Lucy.'\n\nShe gave him a wry grin. 'Some might say suspiciously so, right? Look, Captain Plimpton, I know I'm going to sound like a terrible person when I tell you this, but when I saw Giles dead today, the first thing I felt was relief. I've been staying here in this weird as heck atmosphere even though I hate it, because… well, like I said, I need the job. And here's something else no one will have told you – even if you manage to leave here, Giles really doesn't ever let you go. Winston hasn't been able to get work since he was fired, even though he's incredibly talented. I think maybe Giles spread a rumour about him or something, because nothing else makes sense. And the same thing has happened to other people who walked out, or got fired. They don't get hired anywhere else. But now… now I don't have to worry about that, and I just… I feel like such a weight's been lifted. And the other women ought to feel relieved, too. I guess… it just hasn't caught up with them yet. But give them a couple of days to digest the fact that Giles is gone, and they'll soon start talking. Mark my words.'\n\nShe looked down at her skirt. 'And none of us will ever have to wear this stupid elf outfit again, which is the biggest plus of all. Oh, has anyone told you about the star? The one Giles went splat upon? Because that is a weird story.'\n\n'No,' Wanda admitted. 'We did ask why it was positioned where it was, but all we got was shrugs and \"I dunno\"s.'\n\n'Sounds about right.' Lucy smiled in a sad way. 'But I don't blame them for it – like I said, they will open up soon. It'll just take a little while. Anyway. The star. I was told that it usually had pride of place, on top of an enormous tree in the Winter Wonderland. Only it had gone rusty, you see, while it was in storage – there was a leak in the roof of the storage room, and it was sitting right under that leak for almost a year. So Giles declared it a lost cause and chucked it in a skip out back yesterday afternoon. When I saw it had been moved into the yard this morning I figured he must have changed his mind, decided to get the rust off and repaint it. But maybe not. I suppose it's vaguely possible that he was, I dunno, looking out at the star in the yard, wondering what the heck it was doing there, and then he fell. But it's not very likely, is it? He fell backwards by the looks of things, so I guess a more realistic explanation is that someone pushed him. Although I don't know who. I mean, Janine worshipped him, so she'd never hurt him, and Siobhan, as you already know, was on a day off.'\n\nShe held her hands out. 'But thankfully I'm not the one who'll have to figure it out.'\n\nFinn grunted. 'No. That's us, unfortunately. Listen, we'll let you go in a sec, Lucy, but one last question: what about Theresa Tinsley? Do you think she knew know about her husband's affairs?'\n\nLucy looked thoughtful, then said, 'Well, if she did, she certainly hid it well. It seemed to me that she had no idea about the way Giles was behind her back – he once tried to chat me up by telling me I looked after myself so much better than Theresa did, which is just so many kinds of wrong. For one thing, she looks amazing. And for another, I mean what kind of woman would be dumb enough not to know that if he's talking trash about his wife, he's not a good guy. One day, he'll be talking trash about you too, y'know? I've been cheated on. I know how it goes.'\n\nShe shook her head. 'Anyway. I'm going off on a tangent. But no. No, I really don't think she knew, because it looked to me like he was just as good at fooling his wife as he was at fooling the likes of Janine. To see Giles and Theresa together, well, you'd think they were love's young dream. Holding hands, kissing and cuddling. All that soppy stuff.'\n\n'She came here a lot, then?' asked Wanda.\n\n'Not regularly or anything. Theresa heads up all the charity work for the Tinsley coven, so she's always busy. But she comes to staff parties and stuff, and Giles has had us all over to the house for parties there, too. It baffled me, the way he could be so brazen. But I guess he knew no one was ever going to call him out on his behaviour.' Her expression darkened. 'Although… maybe somebody finally did.'\n\n[ A Meal Best Taken in Privacy ]\n\nI would have enjoyed spending some more time at Tinsleys', so that I could discover if any evidence was found in Giles's office, or in the rest of the building, but once Lucy's interview was finished, Hamish and I had to return to our own office to meet a client.\n\nI was surprised but happy that Hamish joined me, seeing as he'd been missing so much work recently. As we took seats at our desks, I pulled a few items from my bag and hummed some Christmas tunes, grinning from ear to ear. Was it wrong of me to be in a much improved mood after witnessing the death of a Santa-suited man? I wasn't happy that he was dead, obviously. But for such a Christmassy murder to occur in July, well, surely it had to mean something.\n\nFoirfe had said I'd find the pillar in summer, in a house where it was always Christmas. Hamish might be poo-pooing the idea of Tinsley's Workshop and Winter Wonderland being such a place, but… maybe he was wrong?\n\n'I know what you're thinking, Katy.' Hamish gave me a no-nonsense glare. 'And you need to stop it. We've already talked about this. It isn't what you're hoping it is, and it's nonsense to think that it might be.'\n\n'What's she thinking?' asked Cleo, our roommate Ned's familiar. Cleo was an attractive-looking cat, with lush cream fur, lovely brown colouring on her face and ears, and bright blue eyes. Right now, she had somehow opened the door between us and Ned's shop, and was sitting in the gap licking a paw. Those bright blue eyes of hers were filled with disdain (one of her more frequent expressions) as she looked upon Hamish and me.\n\n'I mean, I agree,' the cat continued in a casual manner. 'Most of what Katy thinks is nonsense. But it's always fun to find out what particular brand of nonsense she's spouting on any given day.'\n\nIgnoring the cat, Hamish focused on me. 'I want to find this pillar more than you do, and I'm telling you, it's got nothing to do with Giles Tinsley's death.",
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"value": "[[OOC: Word usage target: 'that's' must be used 2 times]]",
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"value": "I can't afford to get my hopes up about this, and you know it. What's that you're doing there, anyway?'\n\n'You'll find out soon enough,' I said airily, concentrating on the material before me, and pulling out my wand. I'd used a retrieval spell to gather up what remained of Hamish's yellow hat from Sol's flat. Most of the material was in tatters, but my Aurameter had helped me to find one decent length that still had magic. Now, with some nifty crafting spells I'd learned at my wizarding college, I was hoping to do something useful with what remained.\n\nI was making decent progress when the phone on my desk began to ring. 'Katy Kramer, PI,' I said as I answered the call, carefully laying my project aside. 'How can I help you?'\n\nThe voice on the other end was a woman's voice, and a husky one at that. 'Miss Kramer, this is Miss Cahill speaking. I'm your two-thirty appointment,' she said. 'And I'm afraid that I'm calling to cancel. Unfortunately, my schedule has suddenly changed.'\n\nShe had spoken the word 'schedule' with a soft, seductive sounding c.\n\n'Oh, well maybe we could reschedule,' I suggested. 'You said you wanted us to follow your boyfriend, isn't that right? We could get going without a face-to-face meeting, if you like. You could email us some details, like a photograph maybe, and where you think–'\n\n'I'm sorry,' she interrupted. 'But I won't be needing your services, Miss Kramer.' With that, she ended the call.\n\n'Oh.' I replaced the handset and looked at Hamish. 'I guess we don't have a meeting with a new client after all. And I've just realised how hungry I am. Those interviews over at Tinsleys' took forever. Want to have a late lunch at the Bank?'\n\n'Em, no. No, I don't think so. I think I'll eat something healthier.'\n\n'They have healthy things,' I argued, focusing on my work again. I was actually making something useful here. Take that, fourth year schoolteacher who said I couldn't sew to save my life. Turned out, when I was motivated (and in possession of a sewing spell and a magical wand, cough, cough) then I could turn my hand to anything.\n\nHamish hopped down from his chair, looking irritable. 'Katy, at the moment, the healthiest thing I can eat is…' He winced, then lowered his voice. '… dog food. As in the stuff that comes out of a tin. It's what Healer Little advised. If I eat that in the Bank, people will make fun of me.'\n\n'No one will make fun of you,' I assured him.\n\nCleo stopped licking her paw. 'Not if they know what's good for them, anyway. If anyone so much as sends a funny look in your direction, I'll scratch their eyes out.'\n\nHe gawped at the cat in surprise. From time to time they got along, but she normally took advantage of any opportunity to tease him. Sometimes, though, she proved that she had a heart.\n\n'Well, that's really nice of you, Cleo,' he said. 'But this is my first attempt at eating that foul stuff, and I think it's a meal best taken in privacy. You lot can go and have a late lunch together, and I'll take off on my own.'\n\nHe did one of the odd little jiggles and wiggles he needed to do in order to draw the magic from his hat, but nothing happened. 'Crap!' He groaned. 'I'd gotten so used to the extra power of my yellow hat. I could even do travelling spells with it. Not too often, but I could certainly rustle one up when I wanted to escape one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, which this definitely is.'\n\nHe sighed. 'Ah well. I guess I'll just slope off while you all pretend that you're not going to talk about my new eating habits the second I'm gone.'\n\n'Wait.' I hopped up and waved my project in the air. 'Maybe this will help.'\n\nHamish frowned. 'A ribbon? You were making me a yellow ribbon? What am I supposed to do with that? Tie it around an old oak tree?'\n\n'Nope.' I grinned, approaching him and fastening the yellow band around his red hat, finally securing it with something else I'd retrieved from Sol's flat: the buckle from the yellow hat. 'Just because the material exploded doesn't mean it's completely useless.'\n\nHe blinked. 'You… you made this from my yellow hat?'\n\n'Let's not make a big deal out of it.' I stood up and nodded down at him. 'Well? Give it a go.'\n\nHe rested his head against my leg for a moment, sighed and said, 'Thank you, Katy. Once again, I'm sorry for being such a grumpy old sod,' before trying, once more, to channel enough magic to make a quick exit.\n\nOn the third of his jiggles, the hat's buckle lit up, and he disappeared from my view while I waved him off and said, 'See? That wasn't a remotely embarrassing exit.'\n\nCleo sniggered. 'Are you kidding? He made himself look like a right eejit, insulting you when you were doing something nice for him. Frankly, I don't know why we stay friends with him.'\n\nI tilted my head to the side and smirked at her. 'And yet you are his friend, and you know it, and you would have done exactly the same for him. Let's just give him a break from now on, all right? Let him be grumpy if that's what he needs to do to get through this. We'd all be a bit moody if we were stuck in the wrong body.'\n\nShe snorted. 'Especially if that body was a dog's. Anyhoo, I'm hungry. Let's go grab my witch and get me fed, shall we?'\n\nNed poked a head around the door.",
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"value": "'Cleo, have you forgotten that you and I already had lunch?'",
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"value": "Next message should be approximately 56 sentences.",
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"value": "IMPORTANT: 'swirl' should appear 2 times in total",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The cat gave an innocent shrug. 'Well, no one could blame me for forgetting such a small meal. Let's go to the Bank, Ned. Roast chicken is today's special.'\n\n'I know. Because we already had it. Come on, Cleo. You and me need to go and see a man about a ghost.'\n\n'A ghost?' I questioned. 'But… I thought you didn't do ghosts any more.' A while ago, she'd changed the name of her shop. Instead of Ned's Necromancy, her sign now read: Ned Marvin, Maker and Supplier of Healing Wands. Below that there were some other words, in much smaller lettering, which stated: We Also Sell Necromancy Supplies.\n\nShe'd never been an actual necromancer – from what I'd learned, the most that any of those weirdos had achieved was making a skeleton dance – but for years she sold the necessary supplies. Even though plenty of would-be dead-raisers came to her shop, Ned often found a gentle way to convince most of them that maybe all they actually wanted was a conversation with their deceased loved ones. And Ned was brilliant at facilitating those conversations, because she could literally talk to the dead. But despite her gift, I knew she much preferred spending her time creating healing wands.\n\nNed sighed. 'I'm trying my best not to do too much of the talking to the dead stuff, but it's hard to tell the ghosts to flip off when they've got unfinished business. This latest one is a very sweet woman. She just wants me to tell her husband that she left a letter for him but it fell behind a cabinet so… I can't not help her, can I? Come on, Cleo, let's get going.'\n\nAs the cat trotted back through the dividing door and into the shop with Ned, I folded my arms, thinking things over. Cullen would be too busy serving the last of this lunchtime's customers and then cleaning up after them, so he could hardly sit down and have a meal with me. But I absolutely had to talk this over with someone. Someone who would agree with me – that the dead Santa impaled upon the Christmas star was the best news we'd had in a while.\n\n'I know,' I said to the empty room. 'I'll go see Jay.'\n\n[ A Brewing Bromance ]\n\nI felt the joys of a Christmassy summer as I walked out through the Other Door at my office. I might not have liked Ned's ex-boyfriend, the Púca known as Guillermo Moriarty, but the portal door he'd left here had made my life much easier. With it, I could travel from one side of the city to the other without the use of magic, or, y'know, walking for too long.\n\nI practically skipped out onto Eile Street and made my way to Bake My Cake (don't you just love it when people do the hard work for you?) bought some savoury pies for lunch, and some chocolate eclairs for dessert. I was skipping my way back up the street again, when a swirl of white began to fall upon my head.\n\nI held out my arms, grinning as the white stuff began to swirl around me. It was snow. In July. Now that was the kind of weather that could mean something. Except… why wasn't it cold and wet?\n\n'Sorry!' a voice called down from an upstairs window of Eile Street Orphanage. 'The fan in here got a little over enthusiastic and blew a whole load of packing beads out the window.'\n\n'Ah.' I looked up at the Wayfarer healer, Shane Moore. He spent as much time as he could volunteering at the orphanage. 'That makes sense. I thought it was snow for a minute.'\n\n'Nah. We've had a lot of donations, and we're unpacking the stuff now. Wouldn't it be nuts if it was snow, though? In July?'\n\n'It'd be awesome, actually. Hey, shouldn't you be elbows deep in a corpse round about now?'\n\nHe shuddered. 'You have such a lovely way of expressing yourself. That's all finished. I'm on a lunch break, so I came to spend it here. We just had some new bits and bobs delivered to this place, and I'm going to put the old stuff in the basement. I could really do with a sugar rush though, to keep me going. I might head to Bake My Cake and grab myself a chocolate éclair.'\n\n'Ah.' I gave him a guilty smile. I'd bought the last two, and it seemed like Shane deserved them more than me. I held up the bag. 'How about two, on me?'\n\nHe grinned. 'Are you serious? That'd be amazing, Katy, thank you so much.'",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "lets write together! this is from a bigger story so chars might just pop up. u do thirteen sentences sentences like A. A. Albright. genres: contemporary. themes: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "While we waited for Finn to show up, I looked through the things in the box.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'I think you're right, Cullen.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I feel like this is more of a plum in distress than a damson,' I remarked, opening up the clasp at its centre and gasping.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Inside, there was a beautiful silver ballerina, dancing to music that I knew: Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, from the Nutcracker.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jay rushed towards me. 'Katy, we shouldn't touch this stuff. It could be enchanted.'\n\n'Well, it's enchanting, anyway.' I grinned, stepping away from the beautiful musical plum, but still staring at it. There was a Christmas tree behind the ballerina, and it sparkled so brightly, with silver toys piled beneath. 'See? There's the nutcracker.' I pointed to one of the toys beneath the tree. 'Isn't this gorgeous? And look!' My heart began to beat faster. 'There's a snow globe in the box, too. With Santa's workshop as the scene. Those two things are incredibly Christmassy, don't you think?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Guys, we have to find out where Winston got this stuff.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 9 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Beside me, Cullen gulped. 'Yeah,' he said in a strained voice. 'We really do.'\n\nI looked up at him. His eyes were oddly bright, with an expression that told me he'd just figured out something incredibly important. Without saying a word, he reached out to the Christmas tree inside the musical plum, and twisted the star atop it, turning it to the right.\n\nThe ballerina stopped dancing. She bowed her head and curtseyed low, as another tune began to play. It was a carol I recognised from my own Christmases: Silent Night. Cullen's eyes clouded over, and he dropped to the ground.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "writing partner mode: add 23 sentences. maintain story elements. themes: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen looked ever so sweet when he was unconscious. But soon he was sitting up and blinking, and rubbing his scar. 'What the–?'\n\n'My sentiments exactly.' Jay touched a palm to Cullen's brow. 'You seem to be in excellent health, so I have no idea why you fainted.'\n\n'It was when the new tune began to play,' I pointed out. 'When it changed from Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy to Silent Night. But… it only changed because you changed it, Cullen. You somehow knew that the star on top of the tree would do that. And you were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed just before you turned the star, too. You looked like you were about to say \"Eureka!\" or something equally illuminating, and then you just… swayed, ever so gracefully, to the ground.' I kissed his forehead. 'Like a ballerina.'\n\n'Y'know,' he said, sitting up. 'I'd love to be able to say that you're absolutely nuts right now, but I have to agree. Not about the ballerina part, obviously. If I fainted, then I'm sure it was the most manly of faints.'\n\n'Ballerinas are incredibly strong,' I pointed out. 'So it's hardly an insult to be compared to one.'\n\n'True,' he conceded. 'Okay. I swayed to the ground like a ballerina. But the \"Eureka!\" thing that you just said. I did feel like something really big popped into my mind.' He rubbed his head.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'And you said I turned the star and the song changed, so… that's what must have popped into my mind, I guess. But how could I have known to do that? How could I have known that there even was another song for this musical plum to play? Because whatever it was that surged into my mind, it's all gone now.'\n\n'Maybe we should twist the star again, see if it jogs anything,' I suggested.\n\nFinn shook his head. 'No way. No one's touching that thing.'\n\nI jumped. 'When did you get here?' I asked.\n\n'Jay let me in while you were looking worriedly at Cullen,' Finn explained. 'And I meant what I said, Katy – no one is touching that musical plum thing. Not until we've had it thoroughly assessed. I've seen way too many dark objects lately. And a tune that makes the manliest of men faint, but no one else… sounds like it needs to be checked out to me. And also.' He nodded to the candle holder. 'I know that that's nicked. We had a call out to a house in Easterly Crescent this morning. The place had been abandoned for a while after the owner died, but the relatives had been in and out cataloguing all the expensive stuff they could. They gave us a list of stuff that's been stolen, and this is definitely on that list.' His lip curled. 'I mean, there can't be two of these monstrosities in the world, can there? As to the rest of it… most likely stolen, too.'\n\nHe glanced at Jay. 'The coins have already been dropped in through Janine's letterbox, but Winston is nowhere to be found, and Janine says she has no idea where her husband is living since she kicked him out. We'll start a search through the attics on Desperation Row.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Turning from Jay to me, he said, 'But Winston Wolfe, Katy?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 4 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This could be interesting. Very interesting. A scorned husband and a thief? Doesn't sound like the most moral of men, does he?'\n\n'No,' I admitted. 'No, he doesn't.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "WRITING TASK:\n- Continue from story fragment\n- Context: Part of larger narrative, may reference established characters/events\n- Sentences: forty-two sentences\n- Author style: A. A. Albright\n- Genres: contemporary\n- Include tags: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen had once told Finn that the 'old lady' glamour Finn sometimes used as a disguise reminded him of the matron from the orphanage where he'd grown up; now I could see why. Esme's hair was the exact same shade of grey, and the stooped manner in which she walked was almost identical to Finn's 'old lady' walk. She even rubbed her back in much the way the Wayfarer captain did.\n\nCullen gave her a look of pure hatred. In return, Esme's eyes glinted with triumph. 'You're still the same ungrateful little brat I once knew, I see,' she said as she took a seat on the captain's couch. 'I never did understand what you had against me, Cullen. I looked after you, so I did. Same as I looked after hundreds of little kiddies.'\n\nCullen's lip curled. 'Looked after isn't quite the way I would put it.'\n\nEsme sniffed. 'Well, you were a bold boy, Cullen. A very bold boy. Always crying. Always complaining you were hungry or cold.'\n\n'I was always hungry and cold!' Cullen retorted. 'I learned to do a warming spell when I was five because you never turned the bloody heating on!'\n\nShane winced. 'Yeah, see, the orphanage wasn't always as well-funded as it is today. It also wasn't as… well, let's say warm and welcoming as it is now. We have a different way of doing things these days.'\n\n'Oh yeah?' Cullen's arms were crossed, and his jaw was tight. 'Well, I'm glad for the kids who are there now, I guess, but I just wish it had come a bit sooner. Look, can we just get on with this? For starters, maybe we could ask Esme why she never gave me that musical plum.'\n\nEsme opened her mouth, but Shane was the one who answered, saying, 'Actually, it's more than just that.' He heaved the box he'd brought into the room back onto Finn's desk. There was also a small, water-damaged teddy bear and a grubby-looking baby's bib, with a sprig of holly embroidered on the fabric. Beneath the holly, it said: Cuileann.\n\n'Cuileann? That's the Irish word for holly.' Cullen frowned. 'Was I… was I wearing that when I arrived?'\n\nEsme nodded. 'You were. A little red and green romper suit, too, but that's long gone. You were clutching onto the teddy with one hand and that silver music box with the other.' She shivered. 'Silent Night was playing on it. Can't stand that song so I can't. Awful, maudlin human music. Anyway, we didn't know your name, but given what it said on your bib and the Property of C. Keats on the bottom of that stupid plum, I made up your name from that.'\n\n'Except you didn't, did you? According to my bib, my name was the proper Irish version of the word for holly. I was called Cuileann, and yet you named me Cullen. Why?'\n\nEsme shrugged. 'Easier to pronounce Cullen than Cuileann, isn't it?'\n\n'But all these years, you told me my name was just a random one given to me by you. It clearly wasn't. Cullen Keats – or Cuileann Keats – that might actually be my real name. The one my parents gave me.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She shook her head, looking thoroughly flummoxed by his reaction.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'What's the big deal, lad? It's just a name.'\n\nWhile Cullen struggled for words, I squeezed his hand. I'd been lucky, I realised. Sure, my dad left when I was a kid, but I'd had my mother to look after me, and my uncle. I knew who I was. Where I came from. And even though Cullen didn't talk about it much, it had always been clear to me that he yearned to know more about his beginnings.\n\n'I came to see you in your office a while after I left the orphanage,' Cullen said, glaring at Esme. 'When I was eighteen, remember? The law said that once I was of age, and if my parents were either dead, unknown, or made no objection, then you were supposed to tell me any information you had about me. But you refused to tell me a thing. So why do you now, all of a sudden, have something to say?'\n\nShe stabbed a finger in Shane's direction. 'This so-called healer was accusing me of hiding your things from you! I felt I ought to come and give my side.'\n\n'And what is your side?' Finn asked. 'It seems to me that if Cullen arrived with these items, you ought to have given them to him at some stage. The bear and the musical plum could have given him some comfort. The bib would have told him his real first name.'\n\nWith a lift of her chin, Esme said, 'Well I'll tell you exactly why I didn't give them things to him. It was because he was too bold to deserve them. Bold as brass, that one. No wonder his mother dumped him on my doorstep. Sure, for all we know, she tried to do him in before she got rid of him. Could be how he got that scar, couldn't it?'\n\n'Whoa, Esme. Too dark.' I shook my head.\n\nCullen glared at the matron. 'Esme, why are you saying \"Could be how he got that scar, couldn't it\"? Because when I was a kid, you told me you knew what caused my scar. You said my scar was given to me by a witch hunter. You would never tell me anymore than that, but you swore to the goddess that it was true.'\n\nMy eyes met Cullen's, and a look of guilt washed over him. He didn't need to feel guilty. He'd never told me the story of the scar that ran from beneath his left eye and ended at his upper lip. But I'd looked at it through my Aurameter. I knew that there was hunter magic on that scar. And I'd been sure Cullen knew it, too – I'd always believed that there was some back story, something he was afraid to tell me, about another hunter. The hunter who hurt him, and left the evidence behind on his face.\n\nNow it was clear that, all of these years, he had believed it was a hunter who hurt him. But not because he had some harrowing memory of the event.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He knew nothing about the origins of his scar, except what the old matron had told him.\n\nEarlier today, Jay had asked me how my relationship with Cullen was going, and I'd been reluctant to reply. The truth was that, so far, it was going so well that I couldn't quite believe it. I'd been wary of him for so long. Sure, when we met he was merely pretending to be a sexist pig so that he could infiltrate the Warlock Society on behalf of the Wayfarers. But there was a time in his life when he'd been an actual warlock, when he'd believed that men were superior, and that female witches ought to take second place in the magical world.\n\nThe idea of ever entering a relationship with him – or even admitting I had feelings for him – had been terrifying. But getting to know Cullen had taught me that even a sexist leopard can change its spots.\n\nOnce, I'd believed that people were either good or bad – and maybe some people were – but most people had their attitudes and actions shaped and steered by their childhood, and by the things that happened to them along the way. Somewhere along the course of Cullen's childhood he'd stopped hoping that his mother would someday come to claim him. Instead, he'd decided to blame her, to hate her, for abandoning him.\n\nHe'd been moulded by Esme, and by the warlocks and criminals he met along the way – people who probably had their own bitter beginnings and shattered dreams. But somehow, he'd pushed through all of that, and he'd become a man I was grateful to know.\n\nEvery day he surprised me in the loveliest ways. The Cullen I'd come to know wasn't cocky, or sexist. He was nothing like I'd feared he'd be. There were no arguments, no power struggles, just… ease. I was so glad that I'd decided to look past the fact that he was once a warlock. And I was equally glad that he'd decided to look past the fact that it could have been one of my kind who almost killed him, and possibly more.\n\nNow, maybe we would find out the truth about how he came to have that scar.\n\nEsme's chin lifted an inch higher. 'I don't know why I said it was a hunter. You were maybe a month old, or thereabouts, when you were dumped on Eile Street. I've no idea how you got that scar. It was just something I said to frighten you.'\n\nOr maybe we wouldn't find out, after all.\n\nI eyed Esme. There was something uncertain in her expression, something that told me she wasn't really sure why she told Cullen what she told him. 'Listen,' I said, 'it's all right if you don't remember everything, Esme. Just tell us what you do remember about when Cullen arrived at the orphanage.'\n\nShe huffed. 'Fine. Fine, I'll tell you. It was Winter Solstice. Well, no… it was a few days after Solstice, actually.'\n\n'Don't you have records of that?' Finn asked. 'Surely you ought to know what date a child arrived.'\n\n'If we did have any records on it, I think they were destroyed by damp.' Shane gave us a helpless shrug. 'Sorry Cullen. But all of the old files were just dumped in cardboard boxes in the basement. Some were chewed up by maybe rats or mice. Some were destroyed by water damage. It's a miracle that even this box of your things survived down there, to be honest.'\n\nEsme's mouth twisted into a vicious smile.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'What does it matter, anyway?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc: Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'she'd')",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The children who were left with us were left there for a reason. You weren't wanted then, and even if you knew who your parents were, I doubt you'd be wanted now.'\n\n'You…' Cullen gazed at Esme. 'You're just as awful as I remember.'\n\nThe old matron met his eyes. 'Maybe I was awful because I knew you were awful. I could see it in you, you know. That you were bad. I wasn't surprised that first time I caught you stealing food. And an entire packet of ham and three loaves of bread at that. Greedy.'\n\n'I was trying to steal enough for everyone, because we were all hungry. Look, I can see that you haven't changed, Esme. But just… please, if there's anything else you remember about that night then… please. For once in your life just do the decent thing and tell me.'\n\nHer smirk grew. 'You never did learn that the best way to catch flies was with honey, did you? But I'll tell you, even though you hardly deserve it. Let's see now… oh, yes. There was some sort of scuffle on the street. That's why I went outside. It was freezing so it was. The middle of the night. Snow was coming down hard. I heard fighting – there was growling, and shouting, and I went outside. One woman was twirling a silver wand and disappearing, and another woman – a werewolf, I've no doubt – was limping away down the street in a coat that didn't fit. And as for you… well, there you were, a few feet away from the doorstep, with that little music box open, listening to that horrible song, calm as anything.'\n\nHer eyes glinted maliciously. 'Most orphans in that orphanage were others. Wizards, weredogs, unempowered… It was a surprise to me when you showed yourself to be a witch. Not that it made a difference, did it? All of the people who came to adopt the empowered children weren't interested in you, were they? Their eyes would just drift on past you and onto the next child, because they could see what I saw. They could see that you were bad to the bone.'\n\nFinn stood up. 'I think that's enough, Esme. Unless you have something useful to tell us, we'll have an officer see you home.'\n\nShe didn't argue as Finn led her outside, and as soon as she was gone, I noticed that Cullen's shoulders relaxed for the first time since she'd arrived.\n\nI had the feeling that Esme was happy now – happy that she'd achieved exactly what she came here for. And it had nothing to do with defending herself for withholding Cullen's belongings all these years. I suspected Esme came here for one simple reason: to revel in Cullen's misery.\n\n'I'm sorry,' said Shane. 'I honestly thought that if she was hiding the things you came in with, she might have been hiding some more useful information. But I guess not. It seems the only reason she never gave you your belongings was because she was a cruel, nasty woman.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And she hasn't changed.'\n\n'That's all right, Shane,' Cullen said. 'You couldn't have known. And it wasn't a waste of time at all. We do know more than we knew before. We know there were two women on Eile Street on the night I was left at the orphanage.'\n\nHis gaze caught mine, and I knew that he was reluctant to say the rest, so I said it for him. 'And one of those women had a silver wand.'\n\nShane frowned. 'You think it was Jude?'\n\n'I don't know.' I held my hands out. 'If it was, then she doesn't remember. This mystery is not getting any less mysterious, is it? For now, I'm going to go home and get some dinner and some rest. Maybe by the morning we'll have found Winston Wolfe, and he'll be able to help us clear some stuff up.'\n\nCullen stood up, lifting up the box of his belongings to take home with him. 'Dinner and a rest sounds good. Thanks for everything, Shane.'\n\nAs we walked out of the room, Shane smiled sadly and said, 'You're welcome. Just wish it could have been more.'\n\nOut in the hallway, Finn was talking animatedly on his phone. As he ended the call, he turned to look at us. 'We've found Winston Wolfe. You need to come to Aim Low, Katy. Winston has something to tell us, and Sol is advising him to say nothing unless you and Hamish are there, too. Y'know, because they don't like the law in Samhain Street.'\n\n[ The Only Leverage I Have ]\n\nI'd been worried about how to get in touch with Hamish, but as it turned out he was already at Sol's place when the Wayfarers burst in to arrest Winston. Hamish had turned up to collect his robot at almost the same time as Winston had crept into Sol's attic. It seemed that Winston's method of entry was to climb the drainpipe, which led him into Sol's spare bedroom, and from there he used the small door in the bedroom ceiling to gain entry to the attic.\n\nWhen Finn and I arrived on Desperation Row, Hamish was on the street chatting with some of the many officers on the scene. Winston was in Sol's living room, under guard, and Sol was pacing the floor of Aim Low, arguing with any Wayfarer who was foolish enough to engage.\n\n'Like I was saying to Katy earlier, once Winston was in his little attic squat, we think he then made his way through to the attic space above Giles's office,' Finn explained as we talked with Hamish on the street. 'It's possible if you're skinny enough, which Winston definitely is. Once we identified that it was Sol's attic he was squatting in, we had officers laying low all day, waiting for him to get back there.'\n\n'But you think he's been squatting here for a while, right, Finn?' I glanced back at Hamish. 'Did you hear anything when you were at Sol's?'\n\nThe wizard-dog shook his head. 'Nothing. And I don't think Sol knew he was up there, either. We were both equally surprised when the Wayfarers burst in about ten minutes ago and arrested Winston. I only went round to Sol's to collect my robot. You wouldn't have known Winston was up in that attic at all.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He's clearly very good at staying quiet.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 40 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I moved closer to Hamish, bending down to his level. 'And you're all right? It's just that you've been kind of MIA since lunchtime.'\n\nHe gave me a valiant smile. 'I'm absolutely fine, Katy. I just had a wander about the city after I ate. Went to visit Peter Müd for a natter, then went and sat in St Stephen's Green for a while and watched the ducks, and then I came here. Nothing to worry about, honestly. After what you've told me has happened with Cullen, I think he's who we need to worry about now.\n\n'He puts on a brave face of it,' Hamish went on. 'Acts like a right cocky so-and-so most of the time, but he's got to be hurting, doesn't he? We started this day with you convinced we were going to find a Pillar of Permanence, Katy. Now, it looks like we're on the trail of something altogether different. But if Cullen finds out the truth about where he came from, then that's good enough for me.'\n\n'Now who's putting on a brave face?' I stroked his head. 'It doesn't have to be one thing or the other, you know. I didn't imagine Foirfe's voice in my head. We're going to find that pillar, Hamish, and soon.'\n\nHe looked up at me. 'I hope you're right, Katy,' he said, finally letting that brave face slip. 'Because it turns out I do not like dog food. Not one little bit. Come on. Let's get in there and talk to Winston.'\n\nAs Finn, Hamish and I entered Aim Low, Sol rushed towards us. 'Before you accuse me of hiding a fugitive, Captain Plimpton, I didn't know he was in my attic.'\n\n'We're not accusing you of that,' Finn informed him. 'We're just going up to talk to him now.'\n\n'I mean, I know Winston,' Sol continued, following us up the stairs. 'We're mates. Friendly enough that I even asked him if he wanted to move into the spare room when Janine kicked him out. I wouldn't have charged him or anything. He told me he had something else sorted out, which didn't sound too believable when we all knew he hadn't been able to get a job since Giles fired him. I never in a million years thought it was my attic he was squatting in.'\n\n'I'm inclined to believe you, for once,' said Finn. 'But can you please make yourself scarce for a few minutes? Go back down and wait in the shop while we question Winston, will you?'\n\n'Why yes sir, three bags full sir,' Sol scoffed. 'Whatever you want, oh great and mighty Wayfarer.' He bowed low, then rushed back down the stairs, shouting, 'I'm going to go to the Bank, as a matter of fact, and have a drink. Call me when I can go back into my own property again, if it's not too much trouble!'",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce fifty-six sentences matching the context level of any characters/lore. Focus on these genres: contemporary. Include these elements: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When we entered Sol's flat, Winston was sitting on a leather couch, his face in his hands. Looking up at us, he narrowed his eyes, pointed a finger at me and said, 'You were in Times of Yore earlier on today, weren't you? You and that bloke who runs the Bank. I'd never seen you before – I've heard a lot about Katy Kramer and Hamish Rhodes, and how they can be trusted more than the Wayfarers. But now I'm not so sure. Did you rat me out, Katy Kramer?'\n\n'Well, no, I…' Fluff it, anyway. 'I mean, I didn't rat you out, but…' But what? He'd really put me on the spot. I'd always hated lying, but I'd made myself do it ever since moving to the enclave, and I'd become quite good at it, too. But I was tired, and hungry, and the question of Cullen's parentage and the search for the Pillar of Permanence was weighing heavy on my mind; I wasn't sure I had the energy to tell yet another lie.\n\nAt times like this I wondered how I ever managed to solve the simplest of mysteries. Sheer dumb luck? Tenacity? Right now, I felt like I was running out of both.\n\n'See?' said Winston. 'You can't even answer my question. You're a Wayfarer, aren't you? Undercover. Just pretending to be a proper Samhain Street resident. I'm right, amn't I?'\n\nHamish stood forward. 'Are ye mad? Katy? Work with the Wayfarers? She'd rather skin herself alive. She's a mate of that vampire who owns Times of Yore, it's true. But she wouldnae hand you in. One of the items turned out to have some unusual magic and the Wayfarers nabbed it. That's what led them to you. A little silver plum. Do you recall it?'\n\nWinston still appeared to be suspicious. 'You're talking about that damson with the broken leg, right? It plays music? You know, the Wayfarers who stormed up to the attic and arrested me asked me about that, too. Why is everyone so interested in that thing?'\n\nHamish was about to say something, but Winston spoke across him. 'I mean, I heard on the street today that Giles Tinsley was killed. I thought that's what you'd be questioning me about. Not some broken old music box.'\n\n'Giles's murder is our priority, yes,' said Finn. He was visibly shaking. A day filled with murder and mystery probably wasn't the best day for him to give up coffee. 'We're interested in finding out where it came from, that's all. But look, if you don't think that Katy and Hamish are trustworthy – which they are, mind you – then you can always come down to the station and I'll send them home. They're only allowed to sit in on your questioning because you requested it. Say the word, and they're gone.'\n\nHe ground his teeth for a moment. 'No. No, I… Sol says I can trust them, and I'd rather have them here than not. And I've heard enough people talk about how they solved crimes that you and the rest of the Wayfarers were too useless to figure out. I just… I'm on edge. Paranoid. Let's just get this over with, Captain Plimpton. You think I actually have something to do with Giles Tinsley's death?'\n\n'We'd certainly like you to explain some of the evidence that seems to point your way,' Finn said, before listing off the evidence he'd gathered against Winston.\n\nAs Finn spoke, Winston grew paler and paler. Finally, he hung his head. 'Well… when you put it all together like that, I suppose it does sound bad, doesn't it? I… I'm not a killer, though, I swear. I've done some desperate things recently, but I'd never do that.'\n\n'Well then maybe you could explain your side of things,' said Finn.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'For starters, why hide out in Sol's attic?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Why not tell him you were up there?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Why not accept his offer of a room?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'See?' He narrowed his eyes. 'Here it is. The accusations. You think I turned down Sol and hid upstairs so I could move between Sol's attic and Giles's office, don't you?'\n\n'Unless you can give me another reason why you'd rather squat in secrecy than take up a freely offered bedroom, then yeah, I'd say it looks incredibly suspicious, wouldn't you?' challenged Finn.\n\nWinston gritted his teeth for a moment, then ground out: 'I was only squatting because I'm too proud for my own good! I didn't want Sol to know how bad things were for me. I didn't want it getting back to Giles! That man had done everything he could to ruin my life – he'd badmouthed me to anyone who would've hired me. I tried to get work all over this enclave, but you know what he's been telling people? That I'm a thief, that's what!'\n\nHis cheeks blazed red, and his eyes turned yellow for a moment. 'I… I know I'm a thief now. But I wasn't until recently. I was a good worker. I just… I was desperate to see Megan. I couldn't let Giles succeed in taking her from me too. I just… I just needed enough to pay Janine some maintenance, that's all. So she'd let me see my little girl. You can even ask her. Ask Janine and she'll tell you – I stuck an envelope of gold rounds through her letterbox today, so I did. I didn't want the money for anything except Megan.'\n\nHis eyes had turned back to blue again, and his whole body sagged. 'I never thought I'd be in this position. I worked so hard for so long to develop my skills. I'm good at what I do. I… I thought I had everything. The perfect wife, a child I love so much it aches, a job making toys for the famous Tinsley coven. And then, for whatever reason, Giles decided he wanted to mess about with my wife, and that was the end of my happiness. When I… when I was up in Sol's attic, I didn't even know at first that it was connected to Tinsleys' – I didn't notice the gap until I heard them at night time, kissing and giggling together, while I was trying to get some shut-eye.'\n\n'That must have been hard,' I said, while he paused for a few moments.\n\n'That's not the worst of it.' He looked me in the eye. 'The worst of it is that Giles did all of that for nothing. If he'd loved Janine, I'd maybe have understood why he stole her from me, why he destroyed my life. But he was only using her. He already had someone else on the go. I heard him with her, so I did. Not that Janine believed me when I tried to tell her about that. But… anyway, it made me so mad. And I knew Giles was the reason I wasn't getting any work, so late one night – it was practically morning, really – I sneaked through from this attic into his, and then I jumped down and stole a snow globe from his office. It was a stupid thing to do and I know it. But I made that snow globe with my own hands and gave it to Giles as a present last Winter Solstice, idiot that I am. And I wanted it back. Once I took that, I figured that I could take more stuff, just a little bit, just enough so that I could see Megan. It… it was horrible. I hated stealing. I hated every second of it. And I was bad at it, too. Once I had the stuff, I had no idea what to do with it. I… I'm not a criminal mastermind, and I'm definitely not a murderer. I'm just an idiot who was angry and desperate.'\n\nHe combed his hands through his hair. 'Aargh! You're never going to believe me though, are you? You said that the toy I made for Megan was in his office, too, and I have no idea how that got there. I certainly didn't put it there, that much I know.'\n\n'It wasn't just that it was in his office, though,' said Finn. 'There's also the fact that the toy you made was also used to hit Giles across the face right before he died.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Winston groaned. 'Yeah, but I didn't hit him, I swear I didn't.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "[ooc] Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'proud' [ooc]",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The last time I saw that toy was a few days ago when I was trying to give it to Janine for Megan. I couldn't believe Janine wouldn't take it off me, that she wouldn't give it to her. She wanted maintenance money first. Thank the stars Siobhan took it, although how it wound up in Giles's office after that, I have no idea. It… Megan needs to be proud of being a werewolf, you know? I made that for her so she would be proud of what she is. Janine should have given it to her. She… she hates me, and none of this is my fault!'\n\n'I understand you're upset,' Hamish said softly. 'But what you say now could really help us get to the truth, Winston. You mentioned Siobhan. Are you saying that you gave the toy to her?'\n\nWinston nodded. 'I… yeah. Yeah, that's what happened. Siobhan took it and she said she'd get Janine to see sense, that she'd make sure it was passed on to Megan. I thought it was a bit weird at the time, but… I gave it to her, anyway.'\n\n'What was weird about it?' asked Finn. 'It sounds like a nice gesture to me.'\n\nWinston shrugged. 'Yeah, but Siobhan isn't normally the sort to do anything nice for anyone. She's pretty cold, actually. And considering she was also messing about with Giles, well… her \"nice gesture\" seemed kind of weird.' His eyes lit up. 'Oh! Yeah. She… she's the one I was just telling you about, so she is. The other woman I heard in Giles's office, messing about with him. Maybe… maybe she found out about Giles and Janine. Maybe she hit Giles with the toy and then chucked him out the window.'\n\n'See, laddie, there's a problem with that, though,' Hamish said softly. 'The only prints on that toy are yours.'\n\nWinston frowned. 'That's impossible. Janine kind of folded her arms when I tried to press it into her hands, so I guess it makes sense that her prints wouldn't be on it. But it should definitely have Siobhan's prints.' He scratched his head. 'Why would it only have my prints? It…'\n\nHis eyes snapped up, and he stared at us. 'It's Siobhan. She's setting me up.'\n\n'And why would she do that?' asked Finn.\n\nWinston held his hands out. 'Why not? Maybe she killed Giles because she found out about him and Janine, or because he wouldn't divorce Theresa. And she set me up because… I dunno… because she thinks that I'd be the obvious suspect. Yeah, now that I think about it, the more I'm sure it's her. I told you I stole that snow globe? Well, I was only up in the attic by the skin of my nose, just pulling the door across when she marched into Giles's office. I thought she might have seen me, actually, but she never said a thing, so I assumed I got away with it. This was… oh, nearly a week ago. I don't know what she was doing in so early – maybe she was supposed to have a romantic meeting with Giles. But anyway, the night after that, I got back to the attic after being out and about, and… things just didn't look right.'\n\n'What do you mean by that?' Hamish questioned.\n\nWinston looked uncertain. 'I… I can't explain it, really. But I think someone had been at my things. Stuff just looked slightly out of place. There was a faint smell of perfume. I hoped I was just being paranoid. But what if I wasn't? What if it was Siobhan? What if she did see me that morning? Then she went up to my squat and saw how I was living, and she thought to herself: What a perfect person to set up to take the fall.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Finn's expression was incredulous.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Wait, you're expecting me to believe that Siobhan was setting you up, based on you telling me she might have seen you hopping up into the attic above Giles's office, and that there was a faint smell of perfume in your attic the next night?'\n\nWinston groaned. 'Oh, look, I know how it sounds. But I'm telling you, I feel this in my bones. It's the only thing that makes sense. Siobhan did this. She set me up. You have to search her flat, I'm telling you. You'll find some evidence against her.'\n\nWhile Finn gave him a dubious stare, Winston got onto his knees. 'Please. I know I'm acting desperate here, and that's because I am. You have to search her flat, I beg you.'\n\n'I'm sorry,' said Finn. 'We can't go and get a search warrant based on what you just said. We're due to question her tomorrow, and we'll give your theory fair consideration, but that's all I can tell you, Winston. For now, you're going to have to come into the station with us and give us a formal statement, and–'\n\nWinston shouted out, 'The damson!'\n\n'Excuse me?' Finn's brow furrowed as he glared down at Winston.\n\n'The damson! I mean… the plum. You want to know where the plum came from, right? It means something to all of you. Something big. I can sense it. And I'll tell you about it, I will. But first, you have to promise me you'll search Siobhan's flat.'\n\n'Sorry.' Finn shook his head. 'But that sounds like blackmail. You don't want to make things worse for yourself, do you Winston? The best way you can help your case right now is by being upfront with us about everything. Including where you stole that plum from.'\n\n'I want to tell you,' said Winston. 'I do. But can't you understand this from my point of view? I know I'm not a murderer, and right now the only explanation I can think of for all of this is that I'm being set up. So if I go along with you guys right now, and you leave it too long before you search Siobhan's flat, there might be nothing for you to find. My life will be over, and all because I didn't push you to do what I know in my bones that you need to do.'\n\nHe looked imploringly at Hamish and me. 'It's you two who want to know about this musical plum thing, I know it is. It means more to you than it means to the captain. I have a werewolf's nose. I can smell these things. And I will tell you. I hate doing his, I really do. But it's my only leverage. Search Siobhan Cahill's flat, and you'll find evidence against her. You will. She's dead behind the eyes, that woman.'\n\nHamish's eyes locked with mine. 'Cahill?' he said.\n\n'Cahill,' I echoed, with my whole body tingling with excitement. 'Finn, Siobhan's surname is Cahill?'\n\nFinn nodded. 'Yeah. We haven't questioned her yet, but we've arrange for her to come in tomorrow. Wait, why do you and Hamish look so excited about this?'\n\nI pulled him across the room into Sol's small kitchen, with Hamish following behind. 'Me and Hamish were supposed to have an appointment with a Miss Cahill this afternoon, except she called to cancel,' I said. 'She had wanted us to investigate a cheating boyfriend. But when she called to cancel she said she wouldn't be needing our services anymore. The cheating boyfriend was clearly Giles. And she was last seen with the toy? I think that's a pretty good reason to be suspicious, don't you?'\n\nFinn's eyes were straying covetously towards the jar of instant coffee on Sol's kitchen counter.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'Well, I dunno. Her prints weren't on the toy, were they?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 40 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'I've been thinking about that,' I said. 'She could have been wearing gloves when he handed her the toy – they wear gloves at work, don't they? The other possibility is that she wiped the toy, then placed Winston's prints back on it and… and she wore gloves when she whacked Giles in order to set Winston up.'\n\n'That all sounds incredibly elaborate,' said Finn. 'It just seems far more likely to me that it was Winston.'\n\nI wiggled my brows. 'I'm having tingles, Finn. Tingles. All down my spine. Which means that something about this Siobhan Cahill is setting my witch hunter senses alight.' I awkwardly scratched between my shoulder blades before adding, 'I believe Winston. We need to search Siobhan Cahill's flat.'\n\nFinn sighed. 'Fine. I'll see if I can talk the judge into giving us a search warrant. But first, I'm going to make myself a cup of coffee.'\n\n[ That Frizzy-Haired Fool ]\n\nHamish and I had been given a lot of leeway that day; we'd been allowed to sit in on interviews we really had no right to be at, and all because we were perceived to be more trustworthy than the Wayfarers.\n\nI was feeling guilty about that, of course. One of these days, the people of Samhain Street would trust in the Wayfarers enough for me to admit that I was one, albeit undercover. But I wasn't holding my breath. Still, I didn't think that Siobhan would be quite as keen to have my presence there while she was being searched and questioned, so I did what anyone would (well, anyone who was armed with a hunter's Toolkit): I donned my glamour cloak and disguised myself as Wanda Wayfair. Wanda was studying this evening, but Siobhan wouldn't know that.\n\nHamish had decided to head to the Bank instead, to spend some time with Cullen. As Finn and I thundered up the steps of Siobhan's building, I wished I was there with them. But Winston told us that this was the only way he'd ever tell us where he found that musical plum, and I knew he meant it.\n\n'Siobhan Cahill?' Finn asked as a young woman opened the door. She looked, unsurprisingly, just like every other woman who'd been hired by Giles.\n\n'And what if I am? Look, I have a very busy schedule this evening, so I really can't waste time on whatever nonsense this is.' Just as she'd done when she called to cancel our appointment, Siobhan pronounced the 'ch' in schedule in that same soft way.\n\nBut it wasn't just her pronunciation which sent a super-strong tingling sensation down my spine. It was her, everything about her. She was dead behind the eyes, just as Winston had said, and looking at her, I felt certain that she was a murderer. She was a bad witch, a wayward witch, a witch who made my body itch…\n\n'Well, whatever you have planned is going to have to wait, Miss Cahill,' the captain informed her.\n\n'You can't just expect me to let you in, Captain Plimpton. This is my home. My sanctuary. And also, I wasn't even in work today, so unless you have a warrant, you can bugger off.'\n\n'Nice.' Finn gave her a tight smile. 'Well, we do have a warrant, as it happens. So Miss Cahill, you're just going to have to step aside.'",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Writing continuation: one hundred and ninety-three sentences sentences, maintaining established elements. Focus on: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Siobhan stood out in the hallway, surrounded by officers, while we searched her flat. As I pawed through her things, I kept shooting glances her way.\n\n'You're certain it's her, aren't you?' Finn murmured.\n\n'I can't explain it. She just… rubs me up the wrong way. And the fact that she wanted me and Hamish to find proof about Giles's cheating, that gives her a provable motive. I do, Finn – I feel absolutely certain that she's a killer.'\n\n'Maybe. Maybe not. But unless we find something confirming she made a call to you, then she'll be a killer who gets away with it,' he said.\n\n'What about phone records?'\n\n'Paul's already traced the calls that were made to your office to set up Siobhan's appointment. They came from a phone booth in the enclave,' he said, opening up a diary and flicking through its pages. 'Anyone could have made them. Or… maybe not.'\n\nFinn passed the diary my way. Under today's date, there was an entry:\n\nAppointment with Katy Kramer, PI, at 2. this afternoon. I'll soon know if I'm right about my boyfriend cheating.\n\nAs Finn brought the diary over to show to Siobhan, she shook her head. 'No. No, I didn't write that, I swear I didn't. It's not even my writing.'\n\nFinn pulled a sceptical face. 'It looks like the same writing you've used to mark every other appointment, Siobhan. And it mentions an appointment with Katy Kramer. I wonder, if I were to call up Miss Kramer, would she confirm that you made an appointment with her for today?'\n\n'What?' Siobhan's nose wrinkled up as she glared at Finn. 'Katy Kramer? Isn't she that frizzy-haired fool everyone seems to think is so great? Look, I don't do sneaking around and hiring detectives. It's not my style. It looks a bit like my handwriting, I suppose, but not much. I didn't make that appointment. I don't even have a boyfriend, let alone a cheating one, so why would I need a private investigator?'\n\nI shrugged. 'You don't have a boyfriend, it's true. You had a married man who you were having an affair with. Giles Tinsley.'\n\nHer face grew pale. 'I… well… but I still didn't make that appointment. I swear. I didn't.'\n\n'Really?' Finn gave her a searching look. 'So you didn't suspect that Giles was also having an affair with Janine?'\n\nShe swallowed. 'Janine? Giles was having an affair with Janine? No. He wouldn't do that. You're lying. He loved me. Only me. He s-said so. He w-wouldn't lie to me.'\n\nI narrowed my eyes. She was crying, and shivering, and looking incredibly convincing. Except for her eyes. 'You were seen giving Janine some very dirty looks at work yesterday. And the night before, you'd gone back to the office with a bottle of wine to surprise Giles, hadn't you? Maybe you caught him with Janine, and decided to take your revenge.'\n\nShe scratched her head. 'What? I didn't catch them. I didn't know about them. Look, I need to sit down, all right? Because I'm in shock right now. There's an appointment in my diary that I know I didn't write in there. There's all this stuff you're saying about Giles and Janine. I don't understand any of it.'\n\n'So why did you book a day off then?' I pressed. 'If not to have a meeting with Katy Kramer, then why?'\n\n'I keep telling you, I did not make an appointment with that frizzy-haired fool! I took a day off to teach Giles a lesson, all right? Make him… make him miss me. I'd given him an ultimatum recently. I told him that if he kept dragging his heels, if he didn't end things with Theresa, then we were over. And I wanted to make sure he had some time without me for that to sink in. I was going to stay off work for at least a week, maybe longer, if that was what it took to make him realise how much he loved me. But if I'd known he was going to be killed, that I could have seen him one last time, then believe me, I would never have taken a single second off.'\n\nFluff it, anyway. She was really very convincing. If I didn't mistrust her with every fibre of my being, then I might just believe every word she said.\n\n'And I suppose you don't know anything about how a certain toy got into Giles's office today, either?' I asked. 'A toy that Winston Wolfe handed to you, because you said you'd pass it on to Janine.'\n\nHer eyes widened. 'I… I just… I don't know, actually. You're talking about that little half transformed werewolf kid riding the broom, right? I mean, I remember Winston forcing it on me, but I never had any intention of actually giving it to Janine.' She rushed to her bag. 'As far as I know, it's still in here.'\n\nFinn snatched the bag from her and looked through it. 'No toy, Siobhan. And the funny thing is that, if you'd had it, how come it doesn't have your prints on it?'\n\nShe bit her lip. 'I… I had gloves on when Winston gave it to me.'\n\n'Gloves? In July?' Finn arched a brow. I was slightly impressed with him, considering he already knew it was a possibility.\n\n'Yes, in July,' Siobhan insisted. 'We have to wear stupid gloves at work, no matter how hot it is. Look, why are you grilling me? Winston is the one who killed Giles. I'm certain of it. Maybe he's setting me up. Did you ever think of that? Maybe he came in here and fiddled with my diary, and took the toy back while he was at it.'\n\n'Why would he do that?' Finn asked. I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He wasn't nearly as convinced of Winston's innocence as I was.\n\nShe looked boldly at Finn. 'Because he knows I saw him. He knows I was in his filthy little attic. He knows I can give evidence against him, and he's trying to get in first.' She placed her hands on her hips and flicked her hair. 'He's living up there like a rat, did you know that? In the attic above that awful second-hand broom shop. And he's a thief. I saw him steal a snow globe from Giles's desk. He's always been a dangerous man. I warned Janine about him many, many times. I was relieved when they split up.'\n\n'Were you?' I asked. 'If that's the case, why did you take that toy off Winston and say you'd pass it on?'\n\nShe snorted. 'Well I didn't do it willingly, did I? Like I just said, he forced it upon me. I had no choice but to take it. He's a scary man.'\n\nMy dislike for her was growing stronger by the second. I had the urge to tie her with my ropes, use my binder on her, possibly even burn her at the stake. Obviously I wouldn't do the last part, but as I think I've already mentioned, she was a bad witch, a wayward witch, a witch who made my body itch…\n\n'So scary that you decided to climb up into the attic and seek him out?' I asked. 'Seems to me that if you were scared, you could have reported him to the Wayfarers. Or to a private investigator like Katy Kramer if you don't like the law. Or perhaps you could have told Giles that you caught Winston stealing from his desk. But you didn't do any of that, did you? You went up there into the attic where Winston was living. Doesn't sound like the actions of a frightened woman to me.'\n\n'It wasn't like that. I didn't just go up there because I wanted to play detective. I mean, what kind of idiot would even do that? Would rush headlong into a dangerous situation? Me, I was terrified, and I did not go up there by choice. But… the night after I saw Winston stealing the snow globe, me and Giles were… you know… in his office. But then we heard the door open downstairs, and Theresa calling out. So Giles told me to hide in the attic. I was up there for a while, and I couldn't hear Winston, so I decided to investigate. You can walk through if you're thin enough. Easily. That's why I'm sure that Winston did it. You have to believe me.' She pointed to the diary. 'Get that checked by a handwriting expert. Then you'll see that I didn't write in that appointment.'\n\nWhen she spoke about the diary entry, it was the one and only time I believed a single word that came out of her mouth. But the voice on the phone had sounded exactly like hers.\n\n'Boss.' I looked up at Finn, doing my best impression of Wanda's cheeky grin. 'I think she ought to come in and make a formal statement about all of this. We can leave the team here to keep combing her flat in the meantime. What do you say?'\n\nWith a roll of his eyes, Finn said, 'Okay then, Wanda. We'll do just that.'\n\nMy Father's Child?\n\nFinn sat back in his chair, his feet up on his desk, chugging a cup of coffee.\n\n'So how did it go?' I asked, drumming my fingers against my thigh. I was no longer disguised as Wanda, and I hadn't been in the interview room when Siobhan made her formal statement, either. I'd been afraid to stay too long in my disguise, in case something went wrong and it affected the case against Siobhan. 'She cracked, didn't she? And the writing in the diary is hers, isn't it?'\n\nFinn held a finger up to indicate that he wasn't quite finished drinking. After a few more long slurps, he placed the cup down. 'No and no. Siobhan remained absolutely consistent in everything she said. And according to our expert, the writing is not hers, although it's a very good impression. Plus, there's some evidence that someone else might have been in her flat. The diary was wiped clean of prints using a cleaning potion, so was the light switch just inside the door, and the door handle. Well, the switch and the handle did have Siobhan's prints on them, but there were also traces of the same strong potion as the one used on the diary, which does suggest that someone was covering their tracks after being in her home, and then Siobhan used the handle and switch herself, afterwards, and left her own fresh prints behind.'\n\n'What? That's… that's not what I expected to hear. But… I mean, if it was Winston who broke in like she's saying, then surely he'd wear gloves, right? So why would he need to wipe anything clean? And wouldn't there be a trace of his aura at the flat? I'll bet there's not though, is there?'\n\nFinn looked into his empty cup. 'You're right that there's no trace of his aura, but that won't matter in court. Sometimes people don't leave much of a trace if they're not transforming, or somehow using their supernatural abilities. Our tech is strong, but not perfect, and I doubt it'll make a difference to the case against Winston. As for why he might have wiped the prints, well… maybe he called around to… I dunno… to ask Siobhan why she hadn't given Janine the toy yet. Winston got frustrated with Siobhan's answer, so he waited around until she went out somewhere, then broke in to steal the toy back, but he hatched his plan to kill Giles and set Siobhan up once he was there.'\n\n'That's an awful lot of conjecture, Finn,' I said.\n\nHe sighed. 'Well, maybe, but there's more. Worse than any of that. In our search of the skip behind Tinsleys', one of my team found a card belonging to Winston. An out of date membership for the Toymakers' Guild. It seems like he might have dropped it when he was pulling out that enormous Christmas star.'\n\n'Oh.' I squirmed in my seat. 'That's… that's bad, admittedly. But maybe Siobhan stole it when she was up in the attic.'\n\n'Who's the one conjecturing now? I'm open to any and all possibilities, Katy, but I just don't think your theory's going to convince a jury, do you? The way things stand, there's no way that Siobhan is ever going to be seen as a suspect. The Wyrd Court is very unlikely to prosecute someone on so little evidence. Not when there's so much more proof against Winston.'\n\nIt sure was looking that way, but I was reluctant – nay, I was refusing – to ignore my instincts. 'What about what Lucy said, though? That's an inconsistency in Siobhan's story, right? When they met in the Bank, Siobhan told Lucy she was buying wine to go and surprise Giles, and then Lucy said she had a face like thunder the next morning at work. She caught them, I know she did. Siobhan caught Giles and Janine together, and that's when she hatched a plan to murder him and pin it on Winston.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'But why?' Finn asked.",
"loss": true
},
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"value": "'Why would she want to pin it on Winston? That makes no sense.'\n\nI shrugged. 'I don't know. Spite. She seems really spiteful. Heck, Winston could have given her a dirty look once, or he could just be the best available scapegoat. I don't really know why. I just know she did it.'\n\n'Sure. Look, Katy, Lucy was only guessing as to why Siobhan had a face like thunder the morning after she said she was going to surprise Giles at his office. Siobhan said she did go there that night. She says Janine wasn't there. Only Giles. She says she and Giles talked about their relationship, and she pushed him to leave Theresa. So it's not an inconsistency, is it? Not when Siobhan has a perfectly rational explanation for it all.'\n\nMy hands gripped the arms of the chair. My whole body felt uncomfortable – it was a tingling, angry mess. 'She's the killer, Finn. I know it. She… she sets my hunter senses on fire, and those are never wrong.'\n\nHe gave me an uneasy frown. 'Well… your dad's certainly were on more than one occasion.'\n\n'Ouch. You're comparing me to my dad? That's not fair, Finn, and you know it. My father is a murderer, and the people he killed weren't even witches, let alone wayward ones. Every sense he ever had was all skewed up. I'm nothing like him.'\n\nHe gave me a small, apologetic smile. 'Oh crap, Katy, I know you're not. I don't know why I said that. But I'm sorry, okay? This is a bad day, and a horrible case, and I had not enough caffeine and then far too much. You've been an exemplary hunter so far, and I do trust your senses. I trusted them enough to convince a judge to let us search Siobhan's flat. I trusted them enough to let you and Hamish sit in on interviews, and to let you disguise yourself as Wanda Wayfair tonight. But Winston promised you something you really wanted, didn't he? He said he'd tell you about where he got that music box if we searched Siobhan's flat. Maybe you want to believe him because of that. Maybe you're afraid that, now Siobhan's in the clear, he won't come through with his promise.'\n\n'Nope.' I stood up, feeling like I'd had just about as much as I could take of Finn for today. 'Winston's going to be sore about this, no doubt. But he's going to come through with his promise. I'm just as sure of that as I am that Siobhan is a murderer. So can I go and see him, please?'\n\n[ Tell Her She Needs to Remember ]\n\nAs I entered the interview room, Finn's words were echoing in my mind. Was I like my dad? There was no evidence of that so far – I'd helped the Wayfarers to arrest a lot of people, and all of them were guilty. But my instant hatred for Siobhan, my certainty that she was a murderer… that was fairly new. I'd had an instinct about people before, but this time it was exceptionally strong.\n\nI'd seen her as she left the Wayfarer Station, and taken a look at her through my Aurameter. It was an interesting experience. Through my lens, I saw Siobhan standing atop a pyre, tied to a stake and screaming as her body was engulfed by the flames. The Intuition Interface was glitchy at best. Sometimes it showed me a red herring in place of the person's face, sometimes it showed me nothing at all, but it had never shown me anything like this.\n\nI pulled it out now, as I took a seat across from Winston and said, 'Do you mind if I take a look at you, Winston, before we chat?'\n\nHe shrugged. 'Go for it. But I'm not a witch, Katy. I'm a werewolf. I don't see how an Aurameter will help you.'\n\n'It's not a standard model,' I admitted, raising it to my eye and sighing. I could see his true werewolf form, but nothing more than that. No red herring image to cement my belief in his innocence.\n\n'What are you checking for, then?'\n\n'I… just… anything, really,' I told him. 'Because I'm sorry, Winston, but things aren't looking good. I… the Wayfarers searched Siobhan's flat. It's been decided that she's not a suspect.'\n\n'Oh.' He appeared to be genuinely shocked. 'I thought for sure you'd find something against her.'\n\n'Like what, Winston? What did you think we'd find? Why were you so certain it was her?' My heart was in my mouth as I questioned him. If he said anything about a diary, then that was proof of his guilt – proof that Siobhan was right, and he'd been setting her up.\n\n'I really don't know.' He held his arms out in a gesture of helplessness. 'It was… maybe it was just one last, desperate hope, I suppose. Oh, I know there are lots more people with a reason to be angry with Giles. Janine and Theresa, and probably a hundred more women he's annoyed, I'll bet. But out of everyone he's undoubtedly piddled off over the years, Siobhan's the only one I can imagine being calculated enough to kill him.'\n\nHe looked up at the ceiling. 'Although now that I've had time to think about it, there's nothing but my own mistrust of her to make me feel that way.'\n\nA tear slid down his cheek, and he shook himself and wiped it away. 'I wish I had an alibi. I wish I hadn't been sneaking around in shame for the last couple of weeks. I wish I hadn't nicked that snow globe. The whole case against me is going to hinge on the fact that I stole back something that I'd given as a gift to Giles.'\n\n'Well, I think it might hinge on more than that, actually.' I told him about his guild card being found in the skip, carefully studying his reaction as I spoke.\n\n'That… that sounds about right.' His expression was resigned. 'When I checked my stuff, I knew something was missing, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. My main concern was that my photo of my daughter was still there, and it was. It wouldn't have occurred to me that someone would take an expired guild card. The skip where it was found – that's the same big container where the Christmas star was thrown away, right? I saw Giles telling some of his little elves to chuck it in there yesterday.'\n\n'Right. And now it looks like you pulled the star out of there and placed it directly under Giles's window last night, pointiest end facing up, and dropped your card while you were at it.'\n\n'Yeah. Yeah, things are looking even worse for me than I thought. Pity no one on Desperation Row uses CCTV. If they did, I'd be able to prove it wasn't me.' He gave me an appraising stare. 'You know, you didn't have to tell me this, though. It would have been far more sensible to make sure I came through on my part of the bargain before you told me Siobhan is in the clear.'\n\n'I guess it would. I did think about playing things differently, but…'\n\n'But you didn't. Because people are right about you, Katy Kramer.' He sat forward. 'You've come through for people in this enclave time and time again. There's rumours that you cleared Diane Carey's name when everyone thought she was a killer, that it's thanks to you that Denton Montrose and Darrell Plimpton are in Witchfield. There are so many rumours about you and Hamish and everything you do. But… this time, I don't think you're going to be so lucky.'\n\n'What do you mean?' I asked.\n\nAnother tear was falling, but Winston didn't bother to wipe this one away. 'Janine chose Giles over me even though I've been a good husband. And people I went to, looking for work, they believed I was a thief, all because Giles said so. So I became one. And now, because of that, there's a very strong case against me, and even though I have this feeling in my bones that Siobhan is responsible, I know that it's never going to stand up in court. I'm just… I'm not the one people choose, when they choose who to trust. Who to believe. Who to love.' He shrugged. 'I'm just not. So I really won't hold it against you, Katy. The evidence against me is strong. And that's… well, that's crap, but it is what it is. I'm too tired to beg any more, to plead my innocence. I'm just… done.'\n\nHe took in a breath. 'Now. You and I had a bargain, and I'm going to keep to it. That music box. The little silver plum that I think looks more like a damson. I stole it from a house on Hunting Hill. From the abandoned mansion south of the Lodge.'\n\nI blinked, staring at him. 'Abandoned mansion? Winston, there's no abandoned mansion on Hunting Hill, and definitely not south of the Lodge. I've been up that way before.'\n\nHe blinked back at me, looking perplexed. 'Yes there is. Look, I've had a horrible couple of weeks, capped off by the worst day in my life, and I'm tired. But I'm not delirious. There is a huge old house there. It says \"Montrose\" on a big fancy sign on one of the entrance pillars. Well… the sign was fancy, once. Before it got all mouldy and covered in dead flies and stuff.'\n\nI carried on blinking, and so did he. After a moment, I said, 'Wait, are you sure you don't mean the gatehouse at the Lodge? Denton Montrose used to live there, before he got arrested.'\n\nHe shook his head emphatically. 'Come on now, Katy. You think I'd say mansion when I mean gatehouse? There is a great big mansion there, I'm telling you. Just go and see for yourself. But until then, do you want me to tell you about the plum or not?'\n\nI stared at him. He really did seem to be telling the truth. 'Yes. Please.'\n\n'All right. So, I went in to see if there was anything worth taking. But the second I walked in, I wished I hadn't. That house, it's just so mental inside. Like… like it was abandoned in the middle of a Winter Solstice party or something. Lots of seasonal decorations, but they're all dusty.'\n\n'Seasonal?' I felt a little leap in my chest. 'Decorations? Could they be Christmas decorations, maybe, instead of Winter Solstice?'\n\nHe laughed. 'In a Montrose mansion? I don't think so, do you? Christmas is for humans and weredogs as far as rich covens like the Montroses are concerned. Nope. Definitely Solstice. And there were lots of plates and glasses laid out in this big ginormous hall with a dancefloor in the middle. There was a lot I could have nicked. But… well, I got scared away before I could grab more than that damson. I found it in the kitchen, on a little table. No sooner had I picked it up than some ghost started singing Silent Night.' He shivered. 'I hate that song so much.'\n\nI shivered, too. What was so important about Silent Night? Why would those music boxes play it, when they were clearly designed around the Nutcracker? The song didn't fit in, which made it seem all the more important. 'Why do you hate that song, Winston? I didn't think werewolves had a problem with music from the human world. And it's such a pretty carol, too.'\n\nHe tensed up. 'I suppose it is, when I think about it. It was on the radio every year when I was growing up, because we moved to the human world for a while, oh… just over a year after my big sister went missing. Mam would get weirdly upset whenever it came on the radio and switch it straight off. And I grew to hate it, too. Maybe she hated it just because it is a Christmas song and that's when my little sister went missing. On Christmas Eve. Her name… her name was Megan. I never stopped missing her, even though I was really young when she disappeared. It'll be thirty-three years this Christmas, as a matter of fact.'\n\n'So you called your little girl after your missing big sister? Oh, Winston, I'm so sorry.'\n\n'No need. It's not like it was your fault. But yeah, when the ghost turned up, I freaked out and ran off. That's probably how the leg broke off, I reckon – I was so upset that I dropped it about half a dozen times as I was running out of the house.'\n\n'And did you happen to have a conversation with an older man on the way home, by any chance?'\n\nHe laughed sheepishly. 'Yeah, I did, now that you mention it. Yet more proof that I'm hardly the most talented of thieves. Having a conversation about ghosts while you're holding a stolen object isn't exactly the wisest of ideas. But that's what ghosts'll do to you. I know witches don't mind them – they even party with them on Halloween, don't they? But all that stuff isn't for me.'\n\n'Why are you so sure, though? That it was a ghost? Could it have been a squatter who was singing?'\n\n'I really don't think so. For one thing, the house felt off from the second I went in.",
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"from": "human",
"value": "Like… like I was wading through mud.",
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"value": "Once I was inside, I felt like something was trying to push me out.' He shivered. 'I also felt like… like if I could push through it, if I could stay, I'd find out something really, really important. Then when I got to the kitchen and I picked up that music box, the woman's voice seemed like it was coming closer and closer, until her voice was right up against my ear. That's when she stopped singing, and said, \"You have to take what you stole to Jude Kramer. Tell her to turn the star. Tell her she needs to remember\".'\n\n'Whoa.' Once again I was blinking, and feeling utterly shocked. 'That's what she said? She actually mentioned someone called Jude Kramer?'\n\n'Yeah, yeah I'm sure of it,' said Winston. 'You don't forget the most terrifying interaction you've ever had, do you? But I don't know anyone called Jude Kramer, so I have no idea how she expected me to do what she asked. Hey… your second name is Kramer, isn't it? How come that didn't occur to me until just now?'\n\nProbably, I thought, because the Wayfarers had put a befuddlement spell upon my surname, so that even when people heard it, they wouldn't associate me with my father, the infamous witch hunter. 'Don't know. Weird. But I know Jude, and I'll get that message to her. And Winston, I… I shouldn't say this, but… but I'll keep looking into this, all right? Into Giles's murder. If there's a way to clear your name, I'll find it.'\n\nHe gazed at me. 'Katy, there's no way to clear my name. I… I've accepted that this is just one more thing in the long line of bad luck that I've had ever since Giles took a shine to Janine. And even if there was a way, I can't pay you for your time. So please, just let it rest. I've given up on ever getting myself out of here, and you should too.'\n\n'Yeah, giving up isn't really my thing, Winston,' I told him, standing up. 'I want the right person to go down for this. And no matter how much evidence there is against you, I really don't think that's you.'\n\n[ Hammers' House of Holidays ]\n\nAll I wanted to do from the second I left the interview room was head to Hunting Hill and find that mysterious mansion. But Finn had some objections, and they were mostly based on the fact that no one except for Winston had ever seen the house.\n\nHis solution was to let Winston stew in his cell overnight, to see if he still insisted the house was real in the morning. If he did, Finn promised me he would take a full team out there, including Winston, so he could point the place out.\n\nFinn was probably right to wait, but it didn't stop me from wanting to throttle him. And when he did go out in search of the house tomorrow, he wasn't going to be the only one bringing a team.\n\nIn the meantime, I had other things to concern me, like the fact that I was absolutely hell-bent on proving Siobhan's guilt. So, after a late dinner (lemon sole, baby potatoes and asparagus, for those who'd like to know) I headed out with Cullen.\n\nWe took his flying motorcycle, partly so that I could have a bird's-eye view of the enclave, but mostly because I liked to find any excuse to go for a ride on that bike.\n\nAs we flew towards Desperation Row, Cullen said, 'I'm surprised you didn't ignore Finn and just head to the house.'\n\n'I'm surprised too,' I admitted. 'It could be two for one, as far as mystery-solving goes, couldn't it? We could find out about you and Jude and your reaction to the musical plum, we could even find a pillar for Hamish if it's the house Foirfe told me about. But Ned has her usual work to do tonight, so Hamish, Jude and Eva are going to use the time to prepare for – well, for whatever we might find tomorrow.'\n\nVery few people knew about the important role that Ned played in this enclave. It was her job to row on the canal each night, performing a ritual to keep Samhain Street safe from some ancient, evil demons. We helped her out as much as we could; we'd trained hard and devised shifts so that she could take the occasional night off. But none of us could do quite the job that she could. Tonight, Jay had gone out with her, and I'd done my best not to make suggestive comments as they left.\n\n'Plus,' I added, 'There isn't actually a house where Winston says there is, so… that kind of puts a spanner in the works. He didn't seem like he was lying. He probably just got the area wrong. I mean, he has to be the most stressed man in the enclave right now, doesn't he? Still, first thing tomorrow morning, we'll see if he's right or not.'\n\nCullen slowed the bike to a stop, leaving it hovering in the air just above Desperation Row, and twisted in his seat to face me. 'Katy, you were eating so fast that I couldn't understand a lot of what you said over dinner. So now, I'm wondering: what are you talking about? Of course Winston is right. I've seen the abandoned mansion he's talking about, and it's exactly where he says it is.'\n\n'Huh?' I tapped my knuckles lightly against my boyfriend's forehead. 'Is everything okay in that skull of yours, Cullen? There's no house there. I mean, I think I would have noticed it, seeing as we spent all that time at the Lodge with that whole Denton Montrose and Debbie McGinty thing. And why would it be abandoned, anyway? Property in that area sells so quickly at the moment – it's almost as if there are more evil villains with money to spare than ever. Even that horrible Lodge sold for a fortune recently, when the Criminal Assets Bureau auctioned it off.'\n\nThe world seemed a little unbalanced at that moment (and not just because I was on a flying bike with nothing to hold me there but magic). While I felt sure that Cullen was the one with a screw loose, he was looking at me as though I was missing an entire box of screws.\n\nAfter enduring our staring contest for a few seconds more, he shook his head and said, 'You know what? You're probably right. Maybe I'm thinking of somewhere else. For now, we ought to be focusing on this case, and the fact that you really really want Siobhan to be the killer, when all of the evidence points to Winston.'\n\n'I stand by my unsubstantiated accusations,' I said.\n\n'And I applaud your stubbornness. I also think that there are way more suspects to consider. I know that the wife apparently has an alibi for the time of the murder, but if I were Finn I'd be seriously scrutinizing that alibi. I told him as much, too. I also told him we ought to investigate Jennifer.'\n\n'Jennifer? Who the fluff is Jennifer?'\n\n'Jennifer Hammer. The owner of Hammers' House of Holidays, which just so happens to be a couple of buildings away from Giles's workshop. Oh, and she also happens to be Giles's sister. Giles grew up in the Hammer coven.'\n\nI shivered. 'Yeah, I saw that shop. It's an unfortunate name, isn't it?'\n\n'Is it? Why?'\n\n'Well, you know that there's a whole series of creepy TV programmes in the human world called Hammer House of Horror, right?'\n\n'I did not know that, and the Hammer coven would be mortified to know about it. They've been toymakers for centuries. Horror is not their thing.'\n\n'Really? The stuff in the shop looked crappy enough to feature in many a holiday nightmare. So why is Jennifer a suspect, then?'\n\n'Well, Jennifer isn't a chatty woman. She doesn't often confide in anyone – except, that is, for her friendly neighbourhood barman.' He shot me a cocky grin. 'Which is how I know that she hates her brother, and even though she never told me exactly why her products have gone downhill in recent years, she did say, after a few too many drinks, that her brother is to blame. So… I asked Finn if you and I could go check out the attic to see if there was anything else interesting up there. Like a way for Jennifer to sneak through from her shop to Giles's office, leaving nary a trace of magic behind.'\n\nHe settled the bike down into the yard behind Tinsleys', and the officer on the back door gave Cullen a smirk and said, 'Captain Plimpton said you'd be coming.'\n\nCullen responded with a grunt, and we went inside.\n\n'What was that smirk about?' I asked as we headed up the steps to the workshop.\n\n'Oh, y'know – Finn thinks I just love being a Wayfarer, that I can't keep away. No doubt he's got some bets on back at the station as to when I'll make a full return.'\n\nThe building was eerie this late at night, with all of the half-finished toys on workbenches. As we walked over a creaky floorboard, some of the snow globes on a nearby shelf began to play holiday tunes. 'Well, you can't keep away, he's not wrong about that,' I said, skedaddling past the snow globes and rushing in to Giles's office.\n\n'It's got nothing to do with being a Wayfarer, Katy.' As he caught up with me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. 'And it's got everything to do with spending time with you.'\n\nAfter enjoying a quick kiss (all right, I admit it, it was an incredibly long one), I pulled away and returned to business, pointing up at the attic's entrance.\n\n'It'd be pretty easy to get out of the attic, seeing as Giles has an enormous couch placed right beneath it,' I mused, as I stood on the back of Giles's couch and eased open the attic door. 'The couch would make a nice soft landing, wouldn't it? But you'd have to be agile and strong to hoist yourself back up once you'd done whatever it was you came here for.'\n\nWhile I spoke, I realised that I was neither strong nor agile. With Cullen's help, and some red-faced puffing, I managed to finally pull myself up and into the attic. I moved back while he nimbly hoisted himself up behind me.\n\n'It'd definitely be easy for a guy,' he agreed. 'Or – and you can bet that the prosecution will point this out – a werewolf who happened to be squatting in another attic joined to this one.'\n\n'Yeah.' My voice sounded ever so depressed as I took a look around. 'Well, I'll just have to do my best to find something that suggests otherwise.'\n\nThere wasn't much up here, and there were walls built between this and the attics on either side, but at each side as the attic sloped down, there were gaps, just as the Wayfarers had discovered. I wouldn't have been able to make it through myself, but Winston didn't have my chest and rear end to contend with. He could have easily shimmied through.\n\n'It's just like I thought,' said Cullen as he peered through to the gap. 'You can get into any attic on Desperation Row, as long as you're skinny enough. Which Jennifer definitely is.'\n\n'All righty then,' I said with some reluctance. 'But you know I'm just humouring you, right? It couldn't have been Giles's sister. Because it was Siobhan.'\n\nCullen chuckled. 'And as I said before, I applaud you for your stubbornness. Come on, let's make our way through.'\n\n'Yay.' My eyes lit up. 'I'll get to use my glamour cloak again.' I pulled it from my bag, wondering if I would ever get sick of the items Aunt Jude had gifted me in the Toolkit. I unscrewed the toggle, switching Wanda Wayfair's hair for Valerian's. Then, donning the cloak, I whispered:\n\n'I wish for mine own self to hide\n\nWithin this cloak, the means may lie.'\n\nAfter a few uncomfortable moments, I was once again transformed into Valerian, and with her thinner body, I knew I'd be able to make it through the gap.\n\nAs I squeezed through I looked back at Cullen. 'I think you might have a bit of trouble, what with that great big manly chest of yours. I only just got through as Valerian. Do you want my cloak?'\n\n'Oh, I don't need that.' He wiggled his finger, pointed at the space that led from this attic into the next and said, 'Leathnaigh.' Instantly, the small gap expanded, and he followed me through.\n\n'Was that a widening spell?' I shook my head in disbelief. 'Why didn't you tell me you could do one of those?'\n\n'Well, you looked so adorably determined to use your glamour cloak, and I didn't want to ruin your fun. I know a lot of spells that can get me in and out of places that I ought not be. Oh, and I can also scramble my magical signature while I do it. Being a former criminal has its uses.'\n\n'I'll remember that for next time I want to break in somewhere,' I said as we made our way through the attic above Aim Low, and then squeezed through to the next attic, the one above Hammers' House of Holidays.\n\n'I hear voices,' Cullen whispered, pointing to the door in the floor. 'Women's voices.' He wiggled his finger and, in a whisper, he said:\n\n'See true and see clear\n\nThis floor shall not stop us\n\nSee now and see here\n\nWhile no one shall spot us.'\n\nThe floor below us became see-through, and we found ourselves looking into a large office. There were two women in that room, and they didn't seem to notice us.\n\nOne of them was surely Theresa Tinsley, Giles's wife. Looking at her, I could see how true it was that he'd picked women who looked just like Theresa to work with him. She was incredibly pretty, and more than a little bit elvish-looking.\n\n'Well, we did it, Jennifer,' Theresa said to the other woman. 'We got rid of him for good.'\n\nJennifer, a thin woman with long blonde hair, looked uneasily at her companion. 'Yeah. He's gone. And now I have everything I wanted. I just wish I didn't feel so guilty about the fact that Winston is taking the blame.'\n\n[ An Inventor of Lies ]\n\n'Fluff it anyway!' I glared at Cullen. 'I don't like to admit that I'm wrong and you're right but… maybe Jennifer is a suspect.'\n\n'Seems that way,' he agreed. 'Maybe Theresa is, too. But believe me, Katy – in this instance, I am not happy to be right. Let's head down there and see what they have to say for themselves. On one, two…'\n\nOn the count of three, Cullen and I ripped open the door separating the attic from the office below. Pointing my wand, I cried, 'Conáil,' before I jumped down into the room. I didn't make the most graceful of landings, it must be said. But I didn't break anything, so I was going to consider it a success.\n\n'Valerian?' Jennifer frowned. My freezing spell wasn't extremely strong. They couldn't scarper, but they could talk. I wouldn't be able to hold them for long with that spell, so I reached into my bag and placed my hand on my ropes. If they made a move, I'd be ready. 'And… the guy who runs the Bank?'\n\n'Oh.' I pulled off the glamour cloak that they couldn't see, unscrewing the toggle and saying:\n\n'Hide no more so all shall see\n\nMy true face, the real me.'\n\n'Katy Kramer?' Jennifer's frown increased. 'The private investigator? Why were you disguised as Valerian?'\n\n'I've been hired by Winston Wolfe to clear his name,' I informed her. It wasn't the worst untruth I'd ever told. Winston might have hired me, if he'd had the money. Anything was better than admitting I was an undercover Wayfarer. 'And after hearing this little conversation… well, you can see how it might make me suspicious, right?'",
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"from": "human",
"value": "OOC - Make sure to use 'janine' 3 time(s) throughout your message",
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"value": "Her eyes widened. 'Oh. You think… you think I killed my brother. Well, I mean, don't get me wrong, I did think about it. Many times. After all, Giles ruined my life. Me and Theresa have even had a couple of drunken conversations where we planned how we would get rid of him for good. But we never would have done anything to put those plans into motion. It was just crazy, drunken ramblings. Right, Theresa?'\n\nTheresa nodded. 'Right. Although… there are one or two things I should probably tell you.'\n\nWe stared at Giles's widow. My freezing spell had well and truly worn off, but neither she nor Jennifer had tried to leave the office. Theresa ambled towards a couch and took a seat, and Jennifer joined her.\n\n'If you were spying on us from the attic,' Theresa said, crossing her legs and looking at us, 'then I can see why you'd think we had something to do with my husband's death. Like Jennifer says, we wanted him gone, we even fantasised about it. And now, although neither of us actually killed him, well… he's definitely gone.'\n\nHer voice was beginning to crack, and Jennifer asked in a tentative voice, 'Could you give her some water, please? There's a bottle and some glasses on the sideboard.'\n\nI fetched some water for Theresa, and after taking a few sips, she began to speak again.\n\n'Jennifer and I didn't talk much over the years,' she told us. 'Giles always told me that his sister was crazy. That she'd tried to steal his inventions, and his idea for a Christmas shop. For years, I believed his version of events. But recently… recently I discovered something that changed my mind.'\n\nHer hands were shaking as she took another drink. 'There are certain toys – our bestsellers – that we don't make at the main workshop. Giles creates them at home, in his private room. Our flying trains and sleighs and reindeer… he always said he didn't trust anyone else with those designs. So he often works late at night at home, making them in secret. I… I'd been feeling as though things were different with us for a while. I wanted to spend more time with him, to make things better. I thought… I thought that if I could help him with his work, it would bring us closer again. I'm a trained toymaker, too. So one night, I brought some hot milk to his private workshop, ready to make the suggestion.'\n\nShe looked at Jennifer with what could only be described as a look of pure apology. 'That's when I found out that Jennifer wasn't crazy, like Giles had always said. That night, I discovered that everything I thought I knew was a lie. Because when I walked in, Giles dropped a notebook in fright. I went to pick it up, and he tried to snatch it back from me so forcefully that he bruised my arm.'\n\nShe sat up straight. 'Well, I definitely wasn't going to let go after that, was I? And I soon discovered why he was so keen to get it back. Because that notebook wasn't Giles's. It was Jennifer's. Her name was scrawled on the inside cover. There were little hearts and flowers with Jennifer Loves Bramley written there, too. And every single design, everything Giles said that he'd invented, all of the spells to imbue the toys with magic, the special kinds of wood necessary, clear instructions on how to put it all together. It was all there, and it was all Jennifer's. She'd even scrawled out her plans to create a new business for the Hammer Coven, called Hammers' Toys and Winter Wonderland.'\n\nJennifer took in a deep breath, and then said, 'What Theresa found was one of the many notebooks I filled up when I was just a teenager. She finally knew that I'd been telling the truth all along. Giles's inventions were really mine.'\n\n'Did you get the idea in the human world?' I asked. 'For the Winter Wonderland?'\n\nJennifer looked confused, so I said, 'Well I mean, there are lots of Christmas shops open all year round over there.'\n\n'Really?' She smiled. 'Wow, that sounds amazing. But no, the inspiration came to me because of my teenage boyfriend, Bramley. He's a weredog, and he loves Christmas. I think I might have invented everything I ever invented just to make him happy.' She fell silent, and the room seemed to fill with a strange weight.\n\n'Times have changed now,' said Theresa, taking up the story. 'But when Giles and Jennifer were teenagers, it was illegal for a weredog to date a witch. And you can't just make a rule like that without having something in place to make people follow it. Bramley and Jennifer are married now, and they're very happy together. But… back then, if their relationship had been discovered, Bramley could have been put into jail or a workhouse, depending on how lenient the judge was. Jennifer wouldn't have been punished, being a witch, but Giles knew that she would do anything to protect Bramley. He…'\n\nShe stopped for a moment, gritting her teeth, her nostrils flaring with anger. 'It seems my husband knew about his little sister's relationship for a while. He'd gathered evidence. Made sure he had plenty of proof to blackmail her with. He told Jennifer that if she didn't give him the credit for all of her inventions and ideas, he'd inform the authorities about her relationship with Bramley.'\n\nJennifer brushed away a tear. 'There was nothing I could do except give it all to him. He… he was good at following instructions, my brother. He could make something if you told him how, but he didn't have ideas of his own. But now, he had my ideas, and he used them to worm his way into the Tinsley coven, and to impress Theresa. I hated him for it. I mean, I would have gone into business with him. A partnership. I offered that, but he didn't want to share. He wanted everything.'\n\nShe blew her nose before continuing. 'When the rules changed, and my relationship with Bramley was finally legal, we married, and I no longer had anything to fear. So I told people what Giles had done. I told our parents, my coven. I told Theresa. But… no one believed me. Giles had charmed them all.'\n\n'Me, especially.' Theresa grasped Jennifer's hand. 'My husband… he could make me believe that the sky was green and the grass was blue if he'd wanted to. He might not have been good at inventing toys, but he was a very talented inventor of lies. And I was so absolutely and utterly in love with him that I swallowed every lie he told. Until the night I saw Jennifer's notebook, and saw exactly how worried Giles was when I opened it up. Oh, he made excuses, and because it was Giles, his version of events was incredibly convincing. But even so, a couple of days later, I went to talk with Jennifer.'\n\n'Theresa still sort of believed Giles, I think,' said Jennifer. 'Or… she wanted to, anyway. But I made some stuff in front of her, stuff that I'd invented and Giles had taken the credit for, and when she saw how skilled I was, and I showed her some of my newer inventions, it was obvious that I'd never been the liar.'\n\nCullen poured himself some water and sat on the sideboard. 'So why don't you make your own toys now, if your inventions are so awesome? Everything you sell in your shop is… well…'\n\n'Kind of crappy?' Jennifer let out a snort of laughter. 'Yeah. Yeah, it is. I opened it because I thought I had nothing to fear from Giles anymore. But… he came to see me and threatened me once again. He told me that he had everyone that mattered eating out of his hands. That he had friends in high places. That he'd sue me for ripping off what he called his designs. He actually said that last part with a straight face.'\n\nTears began to spill down her cheeks, falling into her lap. 'It sounds ridiculous. Here I am, a grown woman, with nothing to hide anymore. But Giles, he bullied me the whole time we were kids. And he always got away with it. People always believed him over me. You think you can get over being bullied like that, but I think maybe it always stays with you. Because when he threatened me again I completely caved. And I think I knew his threats weren't empty, either. Not when we were kids, and not now. I've heard so many stories about him, about how he treats people. I could totally see him going to any lengths to shut my business down. So I scaled back my plans and just sold junk. As soon as I made enough money to pay off the loans I'd taken out, I probably would have closed up shop again and run away with my tail between my legs.'\n\nTheresa shuffled close to Jennifer and squeezed her hand. 'Jennifer is right when she says that I didn't want to believe her when I first came to talk. I really didn't. But I couldn't deny that the things she said made sense of many things that hadn't made sense before. Especially when, after we had shared two bottles of red wine together, she told me about Giles's affairs. All of the things I'd been denying, ignoring… I couldn't overlook them anymore. It was obvious for so long, and now I was finally ready to admit that my husband was a dirty lying cheat. We had yet another bottle, and we started to make plans. I decided that I was going to go to the coven, and have Giles kicked out. I was going to make sure Jennifer received full credit for her inventions, and I was going to be her financial backer in her own chain of stores. We… well, we might have even talked about how we would love to shove him down a flight of stairs.'\n\nTheresa cleared her throat. 'The thing is, once you learn that the person you love has been lying to you, that your whole relationship has been a sham, the feeling is… unimaginable. I wasn't just heartbroken. I was so, so angry. But after a few nights of talking things over with Jennifer, my anger cooled, and we just… made our plans for a better life, without Giles. But a couple of nights ago, maybe… two nights before Giles was killed, I left Jennifer's place after one of those nights of planning, and I ran into yet another woman who had some truths to tell of her own. A woman called Siobhan.'\n\nShe laughed bitterly. 'I don't think Siobhan even remembers our little interaction. She was sozzled, so she was. She told me all about how my husband was having an affair with her, and that she'd believed they were going to get married. She said she'd gone to surprise him that night, but she'd found him with Janine instead. I already knew about Janine and Siobhan, thanks to Jennifer, but I let Siobhan prattle on. She told me how she now suspected that Giles had fired Winston Wolfe just to clear the way for him and Janine – Giles told me he fired Winston for thieving, but that was just another of his lies. Anyway, Siobhan was so drunk that she even let me take her home to her flat and tuck her into bed. And that's when things took a very silly turn.'\n\nTheresa squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before carrying on. 'She told me… she told me she was planning on killing Giles and setting up Winston Wolfe. She went into graphic detail about how she was going to do it all. She was so drunk that I doubt she remembers telling me. But there was something about her. A coldness in her eyes. When she told me about her plan, I thought: she means it. She really was going to kill Giles and set up poor Winston Wolfe. And in that moment, I… I decided to let her do it.'\n\nCullen frowned. 'Did I just hear you right? Siobhan told you she was going to kill Giles, and set Winston up, and instead of calling the Wayfarers, you decided to let her go ahead with it?'\n\nHer face flushed, and she gave Jennifer a sidelong glance. 'I know that when you and I made our drunken plans to shove him down a flight of stairs, that we didn't really mean it. But that night, my rage reared its ugly head once again. This woman, this Siobhan. She'd been to my house. I'd welcomed her in, like a fool. And she… she laughed at me. She got right up in my face and laughed at me, and told me that Giles thought I was getting uglier with age.'\n\n'You have to know that's not true.' Jennifer shook her head, looking flabbergasted. 'You're stunning, Theresa.'\n\n'I…' Theresa swallowed. '… I didn't feel it. Not then. I stared back at this woman, and I saw how much she looked like me, but a younger version. It all began to feel so sordid. So strange. I thought I couldn't hate Giles any more. But I did. And I hated Siobhan, too. She was so nasty, so cruel. And I… well, I was pretty darn drunk myself. So I thought: why not? Why not let her do it? Giles deserves it.'\n\nI glared at her. 'But Winston doesn't.'\n\n'Well, no. He doesn't.' She met my eyes. 'That's why, in the heat of the moment, I decided to make sure that, if Siobhan did go ahead with it, she wouldn't get away with it. I did… I did some things, that night and the next day, to make sure she would get the blame.'\n\nI shook my head in amazement. 'You made those calls to my office, didn't you? You set up an appointment for Siobhan. You wrote it into her diary. To make it look like she had suspicions about Giles, and to cast suspicion on her.'\n\n'Yes, yes, I did all of that, and I cleaned up any trace of being in her flat, too, because I knew she wouldn't remember. Siobhan has an incredibly annoying way of pronouncing schedule, so it wasn't hard to pretend to be her. But then… then as time passed, I calmed down again, and I realised how silly I was being. I convinced myself that she wouldn't really murder Giles, would she? She'd been so drunk. That's all it was. Just drunken ramblings. She wouldn't go through with any of it. So then I… I called you again, to cancel the appointment that never was.'\n\nI tilted my head to the side, regarding her. 'But that makes no sense, Theresa. Because Giles was already dead by then.'",
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"value": "She nodded. 'I know that now, but I didn't know it then.",
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"value": "I'd been in meetings all morning with my coven. I'd told them the truth about Giles, and we were making our plans to kick him out of the coven and go into business with Jennifer instead. I made that call as soon as the meeting ended. I did it from a payphone, but as soon as I hung up, I saw that I had dozens of missed calls on my mobile from Jennifer and from other friends, all calling to tell me what had happened to Giles. And the way he died – my stars, it was almost exactly the way Siobhan told me she'd do it. She hadn't planned on the Christmas star – she'd told me she was going to cut down some of the wood in the yard, carve it into a spike and push him out the window. But it was close enough to the plan she'd described, and I was positive that she was behind it. I suppose when they threw out the star, it seemed like a more convenient weapon.'\n\nI wiped my eyes. I was too tired for this convoluted mess. 'So, let me get things straight. A couple of nights ago, you were so convinced that Siobhan was going to murder Giles and set Winston up that you decided to plant enough evidence to make sure Siobhan would, in fact, go down for the murder. A murder which you were perfectly happy to let her carry out, because you hated Giles.'\n\n'Well, yes, but…' Her voice had become incredibly quiet. 'But like I said, I was a little bit drunk. And crazy. And even when I was drunk and crazy enough to let her kill Giles, I would never have let Winston take the blame.'\n\n'Hm.' Cullen looked just as exhausted as I did. 'You've not been doing a very good job on that score though, have you? As things stand, the Wayfarers are convinced Siobhan is innocent. Winston's the one going down.'\n\n'I know.' She winced. 'That's what we were talking about, when you surprised us. We're going to go to the Wayfarers. I'm going to explain everything, and make sure Winston's name is cleared. He's suffered enough because of my husband.'\n\n'Okay.' I eyed the two women, trying to decide if their story made sense. I certainly didn't have an overwhelming desire to burn either of them at the stake, so that had to count for something. 'I'm kind of following this whole ridiculous mess. And your coven have said that you were with them at the time of Giles's murder. They didn't tell the Wayfarers what the meeting was about, mind you. But I've got to tell you, we had every intention of double-checking that alibi. And now, this looks incredibly dodgy for you both. Jennifer, what about you? What's your alibi for the time of Giles's death?'\n\nJennifer gave us a guilty glance, and she seemed to be about to say something, when Theresa cut across her. 'Jennifer was in the meeting with me and the Tinsley coven.'\n\n'No.' I shook my head. 'You said you had missed calls from Jennifer, telling you about Giles's death.'\n\nJennifer groaned, then said, 'It's all right, Theresa. I'm just going to tell them.'\n\n'No. No, you were with me,' Theresa insisted. 'Remember? You… you stepped out for some food, and you… you heard it on the news and then you…'\n\n'Stop it.' Jennifer laid a hand on Theresa's arm. 'Just stop trying to cover my tracks. Unless we tell them everything, they're not going to believe a word we say.' She took in a deep, deep breath before continuing. 'When I heard the girls scream about Giles falling out the window, I was in my own shop. No one can confirm that, but I was there. But… a few minutes before that, I was in the attic directly above Giles's office. I was there to take pictures, and to plant cameras, listening devices, you name it. Theresa and I wanted to record Giles in the act with Janine and Siobhan so that he couldn't squeeze too much money out of Theresa in their divorce settlement.'\n\n'But there are no devices there,' I said. 'The Wayfarers would have found them.'\n\n'Well, I didn't plant any in the end, did I? I chickened out and panicked, because I could hear people below, so I was afraid they'd hear me and catch me.' She sat up straighter and crossed her legs. 'That's the thing, you see. It was a woman I heard, down there with Giles. And they were arguing.'\n\nTheresa shook her head. 'Don't tell them, Jennifer, please. You got it wrong. It was Siobhan you heard arguing with him.'\n\n'No. No, I didn't get it wrong. I know you're convinced that Siobhan is guilty, Theresa – and I agree, she's cold behind the eyes – but it wasn't Siobhan that Giles was arguing with. It was Janine.'\n\n[ With Stories as Strange as These ]\n\n'How's it looking?' asked Cullen, idly glancing at the screens. We were in Finn's office, and he'd turned on the feed from three different interview rooms, so we could watch as Jennifer, Theresa and Janine gave their separate statements.\n\n'How's it looking?' Finn gave us a bleary-eyed stare. 'How's it looking? More confusing than ever, that's how it's looking. You know, half an hour ago I was in a warm bed, asleep with my girlfriend. Now… now I feel like the two of you have pulled me into the most random, most annoying nightmare ever had.'\n\n'If it's any consolation,' I said, 'we find it equally annoying. But… how is it looking?'\n\nHe let out a growl-like noise, before saying, 'Well, while the two of you were off getting yourselves cups of tea, Janine admitted that she argued with Giles shortly before he died. No one saw her entering or leaving the office, but they wouldn't, would they, if they were all heading for their tea break? Oh, and she also admitted that she whacked him with the toy that Winston made. But she swears on Megan's life that she didn't shove him out the window.'\n\n'Huh?' I stared back at the captain. 'That's… I mean… how did she get the toy? Siobhan had it, then it apparently disappeared from her bag, right?' I looked at Cullen. 'Right?'\n\n'I think so,' Cullen said with a grunt. 'There are a few too many twists and turns for me to be absolutely certain, but yeah, I think so. Winston gave the toy to Siobhan, Siobhan swore that it disappeared from her bag, and that Winston must have stolen it when he broke into her flat. Only now, we know that Winston didn't break in – Theresa was the one who was in Siobhan's flat and who covered her tracks with a cleaning potion. But that doesn't explain how Janine wound up with the toy.'\n\n'Ah.' Finn folded his arms on his desk, using them as a pillow. 'I know the reason. Part of it, anyway. See, when Janine and Giles were canoodling a few nights ago, she heard a noise outside the office. She opened the door and she found the toy on the ground outside. She figured Winston must have left it there.'\n\n'I think it's much more likely that Siobhan dropped it,' I said. 'You know, when she was running off in anger, after hearing Giles and Janine.'\n\n'Well, we have no way of confirming that, do we?' Finn retorted. 'Seeing as Giles's business and all of the other businesses on Desperation Row have decided to do without CCTV.'\n\nI lifted my chin. 'No. But I'm sure. And Janine must have thought so too – because otherwise, what was she arguing with Giles about just before he died?'\n\n'Janine says they were arguing about Winston, actually,' said Finn. 'She says that once she had the toy in her hand for a day or two, she finally made herself look at how lovely it was, and she started to think a bit less selfishly about her husband. She says she finally realised that things were difficult for Winston, and she went to ask Giles if he was the one to blame – if he was keeping Winston from getting work anywhere else. But despite all of that, she still seems to believe Giles was seeing her, and only her, and she's made no indication that she thinks Siobhan could have dropped the toy that night, or been in any way involved. And for what it's worth, Jennifer has confirmed that. She says she couldn't hear it all when she was up in the attic, but she definitely heard enough to back up Janine's version of events.'\n\nI looked at the screen, and at Janine's face as she signed her statement. Bringing my Aurameter to my eye, I saw nothing to indicate her innocence. I'd seen nothing when I looked at Theresa and Jennifer, either. But I believed them, nonetheless. 'Yeah. Yeah, I believe that. I think Janine is just about deluded enough about Giles to still believe he really loved her.'\n\n'Okay, so who did it then?' asked Cullen. 'You still think it was Siobhan? Because with a bunch of stories as strange as these, I'm starting to think they were all in on it together. Maybe they created such a big mess on purpose, so that none of them could be convicted.'\n\n'Good theory, but no – Siobhan is the killer,' I insisted. 'Siobhan, and nobody else. The rest of them have been absolute idiots, but they're not killers.'\n\n'You can insist all you want, Katy, but there's still no evidence that you're right, is there?' Finn argued. 'And no, Theresa's strange story does not count as proof against Siobhan. If anything, it makes Theresa look guilty. But then she has an alibi for the time of death, so… it just confuses things even more. Hang on a minute.' Finn stopped to pick up the suddenly-ringing phone on his desk. He said a few brief words, ending with a groan of, 'No way. That shouldn't have happened, Todge,' before hanging up.\n\nHe very loudly cleared his throat and said, 'So. Winston Wolfe has just confessed to the murder.'\n\nI sat bolt upright, shaking my head. 'No. No. That can't be. Finn, that can't be. I heard you mention Todge's name. What has that jam-munching idiot done now? And why is he allowed to do anything in the first place?'\n\nI'd been relieved that, so far, Todge had absolutely nothing to do with this case. Ever since Todge had proved useless when we were almost killed on the Riddler's Express, Finn had promised me that the most idiotic Wayfarer of all would be receiving full retraining, and would be stuck on desk duty even after that.\n\n'Well… Todge is on desk duty, just like I promised you. But it's a slow night, so he's also been going to check the holding cells. And while he was checking on Winston, he might have, sort have, maybe told Winston about Janine being in for questioning. Then, as he was walking away, Winston suddenly shouted for him to come back. He told Todge he wants to make a full confession.'\n\nMy throat felt dry, and my stomach began to churn. 'But… but it won't be a real confession. You know that, don't you? Todge has run his mouth, and now Winston thinks Janine's going to go down for this. He's only confessing to keep her out of jail. He's confessing because even though she betrayed him, she's still the mother of his kid. He's confessing because he bloody well still loves her and would happily take the fall just so she doesn't! Let me talk to him, Finn. Please.'\n\nFinn banged his head against his desk, then did it again, then did it yet again, before replying. 'I hate this case. And I still don't see what any of it has to do with Cullen or with a Pillar of Permanence, so I think… I think it's probably going to get worse, isn't it?' He let out a long, mournful sigh. 'You can talk to Winston tomorrow, when we meet up on Hunting Hill. And you know what, Katy? I think you're probably right. I haven't wanted to admit it without proof, but Siobhan Cahill… she is the killer. She's dead behind the eyes. But nevertheless…'\n\nI stood up, glaring at him. 'Don't say it, Finn. Do not say it. Do not say: \"Nevertheless, Winston is going to go down for this.\"'\n\nHe sighed again, and stood up. 'All right. I won't say it. Instead, I'll just say: \"Goodnight Katy, Goodnight Cullen. I'll see you both in the morning.\"'\n\n[ The Most Handsome Man I've Ever Seen ]\n\nI stayed with Cullen in his flat above the Bank that night. Before we'd gone out on the bike, he'd cleaned the teddy bear and the little bib that Shane had found in the basement of the orphanage. The bear was now sitting proudly on a chair in the corner of Cullen's bedroom, wearing the bib. It probably should have surprised me to find that Cullen had done something so sweet, but it didn't. In the months since we'd been dating, I'd discovered that he was capable of the sweetest things.\n\nFor a while I lay awake, watching him while he slept. He tossed and turned, and cried out a few times, but eventually settled down, and I fell asleep next to him, wondering what tomorrow would bring.",
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"value": "Expand with 129 sentences sentences, preserving any established world elements or character dynamics.",
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"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
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"value": "Cleo was already at the front door when the rest of us caught up with her. It was ajar, and she snaked her way through and into the entrance hall with a cry of, 'Good goddess, this place is filthy.'\n\nHamish, Ned and I walked in next, gazing around. Cleo wasn't wrong. In the house's entrance hallway, I began to cough. The place was caked in dust and grime. Somewhere beneath it all, I could see garlands and wreaths made of holly and ivy, the leaves having browned and dropped to the floor long ago.\n\n'Winston was right. These are all typical Winter Solstice decorations,' Ned remarked. 'The wreaths, the greenery – well, the brownery now. But… I don't know. Something feels weird. The air is too… thick.'\n\n'Winston said it was like wading through mud,' I said.\n\n'Yeah.' Hamish nodded nervously. 'Yeah, it feels like that. Every step is exhausting.'\n\n'There's something else, though. You can hear it too, can't you Ned?' Cleo asked the question. 'A sort of background… harshness. Someone is trying to talk to us.'\n\n'I think you're right,' Ned told the cat. 'Someone is trying to communicate, but they're blocked somehow.' She peeped her head around the door at the others. 'What do you think? Should we stay or should we go?'\n\nJude snorted, and walked in with Eva and Jay. Cullen took in a deep breath, and crossed the threshold. And as soon as he did, the front door slammed behind him, and everything changed.\n\n[ In For a Sickle, In For a Round ]\n\nAll around us, the dust swirled away in a great big golden rush, leaving gleaming surfaces in its wake. The entire hallway was transformed. There was a fire crackling in the hearth, there were twinkling lights on the now-fresh wreaths and garlands, and there was a delicious smell in the air.\n\nBut, pretty though the house had become, I did not like being trapped. I rushed to check the door, unable to keep the panic from my voice as I announced, 'It's locked. And I'll bet every other door and window is, too.'\n\nJude nodded. 'An Insitu spell. We're stuck inside this house. I always know when there's any sort of boundary spell around me because I feel instantly claustrophobic, even if I'm in an enormous space.'\n\n'It's not just the fact we could be locked in, though,' said Ned. 'As soon as that door slammed shut, whatever ghosts were here… they scarpered. I could feel them leave.'\n\nCleo nodded in agreement with her witch. 'They're still in here though. Just… hiding.'\n\n'On the plus side,' said Hamish, 'I don't think I've ever been trapped somewhere that smells so good, have you? I'm smelling… mulled wine.' He took in a good long sniff. 'A roasted goose, roast potatoes, stuffing, carrots and parsnips cooked with black pepper and honey. Brussels sprouts, parboiled, then fried off in the pan with bacon. Red cabbage. Sage and onion stuffing with…' He sniffed more deeply. 'With shredded apple and black pudding. There's a good old–fashioned Christmas pudding, too, soaked in alcohol. There's fresh cream, aged wine and…' He shuddered. 'There are some of those awful marrowfat peas, too. Talk about ruining a Christmas dinner.'\n\nCullen shook his head. 'But the Brussels sprouts you have no problem with?'\n\n'Not when they're cooked with bacon,' said Hamish. 'Oh, and speaking of bacon, I also smell a ham. Well, shall we try to send out a smoke signal to Finn, or shall we sally forth regardless?'\n\n'I don't think we're going to be getting in touch with anyone, actually,' said Jay, waving his phone in the air. 'It's completely dead.'\n\nWe all checked our phones, finding just the same: the screens were blank, and there was no way to turn them back on.\n\n'Well then.' Jude rubbed her palms together. 'In for a sickle, in for a round.'\n\n'Mm,' Eva said vaguely. She was standing at a table close to the front door, and she had a photograph in her hand. It was set within a beautiful silver frame. 'Maybe em… maybe you might want to take a look at this, Cullen.'\n\nWith a face filled with trepidation, Cullen took the photo from Eva. The rest of us stood nearby, taking a look. The picture was of a baby boy in his mother's arms. The woman was in a hospital bed, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and bliss. She had dark brown hair, and lovely blue eyes. There was a plate at the bottom of the frame, saying: Cuileann Montrose, Born December 1st, the Year of the Hamster, pictured in the loving arms of his mother, Caoimhe.\n\n'That's… that's the year you were born, isn't it?' Ned said in a quiet voice. 'If you… if you arrived at the orphanage at a few weeks old like Esme said, the year would be about right. And you… well, you were wearing that bib that said Cuileann when Esme found you…' She sounded more uncomfortable the longer she spoke. 'Of course, that doesn't mean anything.'\n\nCullen blanched. 'It doesn't. It doesn't mean a thing. I'm a Keats, not a Montrose. It even says so on the bottom of both of those musical plums. And there's no scar on this kid.'\n\n'You weren't born with that scar though, were you?' Cleo pointed out, looking at him through disparaging blue eyes. 'You and Katy have long established that it's covered in hunter magic.'\n\n'But still.' He crossed his arms. 'I'm not a Montrose.'\n\nThe cat shrugged. 'I can see why you'd want that to be the case. That Montrose lot are the worst coven in the world. Worse than the Berrys or the Plimptons, even.'\n\nNed glared at her familiar, and Cleo gave Cullen an innocent smile. 'Ever so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Cullen. I'm sure you're not a Montrose. Even if the evidence is really mounting up.'\n\n'It isn't!' Cullen cried. 'I mean… it is, I know it is. But there'll be another explanation. Look, here's what I think. My mother worked here, as a servant maybe. Something terrible happened to her, and I was left on the doorstep of the orphanage with some other kid's stuff. This Cuileann Montrose or Keats or whoever he is, he's nothing to do with me. Because I'm not… I can't be a Montrose.'\n\n'Sure. Maybe,' I said. My tone was more dubious than I'd intended, as I gazed around the hallway. It had been so horrible in here – the remnants of a holiday from long, long ago. But as soon as Cullen walked in, everything was beautiful. And not only that, but the feeling we had when we first walked in – of wading through mud – that feeling was gone, now. It had disappeared as soon as Cullen crossed the threshold and the door closed behind him. His connection to this place was stronger than he was willing to admit. Once we ventured deeper into this house, we were going to discover some things, things he might not want to know. Things he—\n\n'Earth to Katy!' said Hamish, tapping his nose against my leg.\n\n'Hm?'\n\n'We've asked you three times if you want to head into the next room,' Jay said with a laugh. 'You inner monologue-ing again?'\n\nI politely cleared my throat. 'I don't know what you're talking about. But Jude's right – in for a sickle, in for a round. So let's just keep going.'\n\n[ Thorn in My Side ]\n\nThere was a grand staircase in the entrance hallway, and a few rooms leading off. There was a small study, a drawing room, a sun room, a billiard room, and even a small library. All of the rooms were stunning.\n\nIf Foirfe's voice had told me: 'You shall find it in summertime, in the house where it's always Winter Solstice' then I'd be very happy right now. But there are marked differences between Christmas and Winter Solstice, and this house was definitely decorated for the latter. All of the decorations were beautiful but natural-looking, in the witches' fashion. The twinkling lights weren't electric string lights, but perfectly-formed Solas spells. There was holly and ivy and mistletoe aplenty. There were logs blazing in fireplaces. But there was no Christmas tree, no presents, and no Santa ornaments to be found.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "We arrived at a set of open double doors, and looked into the largest room yet: an oval-shaped ballroom, with dining tables all laid out for dinner, and a dancefloor at the centre.",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "Make sure to use 'express' 2 time(s) throughout your message",
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"value": "The ceiling was high, with clouds and stars painted upon it. The stars sparkled, and there were more magical lights all around the room.\n\nSome of those lovely Solas spells were encircling pillars.\n\nHamish's breath shuddered as he stared at the pillars. There were ten of them, four on either side of the room and two at the far end, creating little alcoves behind them. In some of those alcoves there were beautiful couches and chairs, in others there were doorways leading into more rooms. I saw another library, larger than the one we'd seen before, and a comfortable-looking sitting room with yet another fire blazing in the hearth. Only one of the doorways, the black door between the pillars right at the other end, was closed, but it looked to me to be a swinging door – perhaps the kitchen was back there?\n\nAs for the pillars, they looked to be made of marble, stretching from floor to ceiling. The pillar on the Riddler's Express had looked nothing like these; yes, it had been spinning fast when I saw it, but I'd seen the dust beneath the train after I smashed it, and it wasn't marble, but a much plainer-looking stone.\n\n'It looks like a dinner party was interrupted by a fight or something,' Jay remarked. 'Some of the chairs are knocked back.'\n\nReluctantly, I tore my attention from the pillars. Jay was right. There were chairs knocked to the ground, as though people had quickly left their seats. There was shattered glass on some of the tables, too, and next to the chairs. People had dropped their drinks in shock, maybe? But the mess around the tables was nothing compared to the mess at the very centre of the room.\n\nIt looked as though the dancefloor had been used for fighting, not dancing. There was more smashed glass, too. Some chairs were sitting at odd angles on the floor. Had they been thrown at something? Or someone? There was a dropped platter, some knives…\n\n'Yeah, it's all very strange and everything,' said Cullen. 'But for now, can we focus on what's most important? What about those pillars, guys? Are they what we're looking for?'\n\n'None of them look like a Pillar of Permanence,' Hamish said sadly, echoing my earlier thoughts. 'And look at the food on the tables. Caviar. Steak tartare. Profiteroles. Champagne, port, brandy… it's got the makings of a very fine party, but it's not the delicious Christmas dinner I could smell from the entrance hall. Although…' He sniffed. 'I can still smell that food. But… maybe it's just wishful sniffing. I would love for this to be the house Foirfe told Katy about but… it's just not, is it?'\n\nHamish stood up straight and shook his furry body. 'But not to worry. We'll find that house another day. For now, we need to figure out the mystery of those musical plums, and what this house has to do with Cullen.'\n\nCullen sighed. 'What about you, Jude? You've been looking a little dazed since we walked in here. Are you remembering anything? Because I'm not – although, considering what we've found so far, I'm not sure I want to discover much more.'\n\n'Hm?' Jude snapped her attention away from the dancefloor. 'No. No, I don't remember anything. But I do have a very strong sense of Déjà vu.'\n\n'Well then.' Hamish nodded decisively. 'Let's get to figuring out why. This might not be the house where it's always Christmas, but we've still got a mystery to solve.'\n\n'Hey.' Eva bent down to Hamish's level and looked him in the eye. 'We have a lot more rooms left to check in this great big – and clearly magical – house. I'm not giving up on finding the right pillar in one of them, so you'd better not either.'\n\nHe let out a shy-sounding laugh. 'We'll go take a look at some of the other rooms, so.'\n\nAs the others headed off, I called out, 'Hang on a second, will you? Just… just a second. Because… well… because look at this.' I held up my hand so that they could all see the mark on my palm. The curling, coil-like mark was no longer a faded-silver scar; it was a white-hot, snaking river of metal, spinning on my palm. I clasped my hand shut, wincing at how much pain that simple action had caused. 'It's spinning a lot, don't you think? Like if we look at it too long, we'll be hypnotised?'\n\nI let out an awkward-sounding laugh. 'So… anyway… you guys should go off and search the other rooms if you want, but I'm going to stay and take a closer look at the pillars in here, and see which one takes the pain from excruciating to oh my gosh I think I'm gonna die.'\n\nThey didn't leave the ballroom; instead the others followed me, wordlessly and worriedly, as I walked from pillar to pillar, finally pausing at the two columns at the end of the room. As I neared the left of those two, I felt a pure and unignorable pain.\n\n'You know what, I think this one is a bit different,' said Jay, pointing up near the top of the pillar. 'Doesn't it look like the marble is cracking up there, like it might actually be a plainer stone column underneath?'\n\n'You're right, Jay.' Ned knocked on that pillar, then on the one next to it. 'These others are solid marble, I think. This one just has a marble façade.'\n\nI was about two feet from the cracked pillar now, and the pain was shooting inwards from my hand, creeping up along my arm and coursing through my entire body. I wanted to look at the magic of the pillar, so that I could be sure of what the pain was telling me: that we had finally, after all of this time, found a Pillar of Permanence; that we could at last break the spell upon Hamish. 'Jude, I'm a little bit sore right now. Could you, maybe…?'\n\n'Use my new Aurameter?' said Jude as I glanced back at her. 'Already on it.' She brought the lens to her eye and said, 'Katy, when you were on that train, did the magic around the pillar look sort of like… bramble?'\n\n'No, it… well, it was spinning too fast and I was kind of trying to stop us all from dying by the time I saw it, so I'm not completely sure,' I admitted. 'But I think the hammer I used to break it became possessed by Foirfe's magic, just as I did. That magic was… white hot, like the mark on my palm.'\n\n'Your hair went multi-coloured though,' Hamish reminded me.\n\n'Well, something tells me there's every colour of the rainbow in that woman's magic, to be honest,' I said. 'And there was silver magic on the train, too, like a thread in the air from the Immortal coil.'\n\n'Well, this isn't like any of that,' said my aunt. 'This is definitely more like bramble.'\n\n'Huh.' I reached out, touching my palm against the pillar. As soon as I did, the pain disappeared, and I felt… at peace. In unity with the pillar. I felt that it was mine, and I was its, and together we could accomplish anything.\n\n'Ow!' I jumped back from the pillar, suddenly feeling pain again, but a pain much, much different to what I'd felt before. 'This pillar has just shot a bloody thorn into my side!'\n\n[ So Close and Yet So Far Away ]\n\nA torrent of thorns shot themselves from the pillar, shooting out in all directions, piercing everything in sight. We all ran back, as the thorns began to follow us.\n\nWe tried to head for the black door closest to the pillars, but the thorns came faster when we ran that way, sending us dashing and darting all over the ballroom, finally making it into the large library and shutting the door behind us. For a few seconds, the rain of thorns continued to assault the library door. As it quickly petered out I stood up, peeking through the glass panelling of the door and taking my Aurameter to my eye.\n\nThere was shining golden magic, dancing through the air all over this house, like a witch's or a wizard's, but there was something else too. This other magic was like long, invasive branches of copper-coloured bramble, with leaves and thorns included. Whatever it was, it was at its highest concentration all around the pillar, but thinner shoots were stretching outwards, and seemed to invade every part of the room – perhaps even all of the rooms beyond.\n\nWhile I studied the magic, Cullen and Ned were gently pulling the thorn from my side, and Ned was pointing one of her healing wands, quickly closing up the gash. I looked back at the thorn, sitting in Ned's palm, but it faded in front of my eyes.\n\nHamish, who had been pulling thorns from one of his legs with the use of his mouth, said, 'They've all gone. Every single thorn is gone, like they were never there.'\n\n'The thorns in the ballroom have disappeared too,' I observed. 'But I have the feeling they'll soon come out to play again if we try to approach the pillar. What we felt just now, I think it was a warning shot.'\n\n'So the magic, you think it's a protection spell?' Jay asked. 'To keep us away from the pillar?'\n\n'I'm not sure.' I flopped onto the ground, my back against the library door, resting for a moment. 'It doesn't look like any protection spell I've seen, but it's definitely acting like one. It's whatever else it might be doing that I'm worried about. Because the way this magic is threading through the air and reaching out, it reminds me of the magic on the Riddler's Express – the way the Immortal Coil reached out to all of us, but was also bound to the pillar. Except this magic looks different. Like a metallic bramble infestation, without the tasty blackberries. It doesn't seem to be trying to strangle the life out of us, though, so I guess… small mercies.'\n\n'There'll be nae mercy if we cannae get near that pillar though, will there?' Hamish hung his head.\n\nCleo rubbed herself up against him. 'So close, and yet so far away. It must be awful for you, Hamish. You know who'd be able to sort this out for us? The Queen of the Sióga. She'd have that magic broken in a flash.'\n\nNed gave her familiar a warning glare. 'Cleo, if I were you I'd keep very, very quiet right now.'\n\nShe needn't have worried. Hamish didn't look likely to argue with Cleo at the moment. He was panting hard, his entire body jerking with every movement he made.\n\n'Here.' Cullen took a bottle of water from my bag, pouring it into an enormous (but thankfully clean) ashtray, and bringing it to Hamish. 'Have a drink, mate.",
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"from": "human",
"value": "You don't look good.'",
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"value": "Hamish lapped up the water, but didn't look much better for it.\n\n'Have you eaten today?' asked Jay. 'I know you didn't want to have the bacon because of… well… but did you eat something at least?'\n\nHamish was quiet for a moment, before finally revealing, 'No, no I havnae eaten properly for a while now. I couldnae stomach much of the dog food, and I suppose that our little escape attempt just now might have taken what energy I had.' He waved a paw. 'It's all right, honestly. I spoke to Healer Little, and he said that I can have some plain chicken and rice, so I'll have some of that when we get out of here. No doubt Finn and the Queen have realised we're in here and they're working to get us out.'\n\n'What?' I stared at him. 'I mean, yeah, that'd be great but… this isn't over, Hamish. As soon as the Queen gets in here and breaks whatever magic it is, we'll be reversing your spell. You can eat anything you like, then. Actually, no.' I took an energy bar from my bag, unwrapped it and passed it his way. 'You should eat now. Because we're going to win this, I know we are.'\n\nHe was still panting, but he took the bar and nibbled a little bit of it before saying, 'Sure. Of course we are.'\n\nWhile we were comforting Hamish, there'd been a whole lot of clinking and clanking from Eva and Jude, as they pawed through Eva's purse. Judging by how long it was taking them to find whatever they were looking for, I suspected that Eva's purse was bigger on the inside.\n\nFinally, Eva and Jude found what they were looking for and began to place some items on the floor: a glass tube, and a large metal pot with a clamped lid and a hole on the top.\n\n'What is that?' asked Ned.\n\n'It's for siphoning magic,' Eva explained. 'It's… it's sort of like a channelling spell, for when a channelling spell is too dangerous. Like when you have no idea what the magic will do to you, but you need to get it out of the way. It's not a permanent solution, and it won't take all of the magic. But hopefully it'll take enough, so we can get near the pillar and use it for Hamish.'\n\nShe placed one end of the tube into the hole on the lid of the large pot, and gently shook. I could see now that the tube wasn't actually made of glass – or, if it was, then it was an incredibly pliable glass with the ability to grow and twist. As the tubing lengthened and stretched out from the pot, it rushed towards the library door.\n\nCarefully, Eva opened the door just a few inches, and the tubing raced into the ballroom, heading straight for the pillar and winding itself around it. I could see tiny sucker-like holes opening on the inner part of the tubing.\n\n'Phew. It's actually starting to siphon.' Eva wiped her forehead. 'Don't you just love it when an experimental object works out on the first real-life trial?'\n\n'This is experimental?' Hamish walked all around Eva's contraption. 'I don't believe you. Something cannae work this well without being tested a thousand times.'\n\n'Well… I invented it last night,' Eva told him. 'So yes, it is experimental.'\n\nHamish stared at her. 'We didnae make this last night. We tested to see if the spell for turning me back into a man was viable, and we finished off Jude's new Aurameter.'\n\nEva met his gaze. 'I stayed up after you left. I couldn't sleep for thinking of what might go wrong. So… I made this.' She tore her eyes from his, and stood at the door beside me, watching the progress of her invention. I passed her my Aurameter so she could see what I could: the bramble-magic being sucked up, before being pulled away from the pillar and drawn into the pot.\n\nAfter a few minutes of watching, Cullen crept back into the ballroom. 'I think it's okay now,' he said, giving a thumbs-up. 'It seems to–'\n\nHe stopped talking, as the pillar threw more thorns towards him. It was just a few this time, but enough to make him rush back to the safety of the library.\n\n'I'd put a protection spell around myself, but they still pierced me,' he said, shaking his head in wonder.\n\n'Well, you can see by the pot's gauge that my siphoning device seems to be working,' said Eva, scratching her head in confusion. 'And I could see it sucking up the magic when I looked through Katy's Aurameter. But… it's clearly not working quite as well as I'd hoped.'\n\nI looked through the library's glass panel again. The tubing was expanding out from where it had surrounded the pillar, and pushing its way towards the black door. 'That's because the pillar isn't the source,' I said. 'And your siphoning tube has just gone on a journey to find it. Eva, I can't believe it – it's just pushed its way through a door.'\n\nShe gave a start of surprise. 'Well, that's unexpected. I mean… I made the tubing strong, and capable of growing to quite a few thousand metres, but… that was just me, over-engineering. I didn't expect to actually need that much length. What should we do?'\n\nI bit my lip, thinking. 'Some of us should stay here to keep an eye on Eva's invention, and to keep testing the pillar to see if we can get near. Some of us should go and follow the tubes. Find the source.'\n\n'I'll go,' said Jay, easing open the library door. 'I'm not much use when it comes to wizardry.'\n\n'I'll go with you,' Ned offered. 'I can put a protection spell on us both.'\n\nI watched for a moment as they both dashed to the black door, staying as far away from the Pillar of Permanence as they could. Only a few thorns flew their way, but they managed to dodge most of them, and they quickly pushed open the black door and ran through.\n\nI kept an eye on the ballroom, watching the bramble-magic being pulled from the pillar. But it was going so, so slow; most of the magic we were siphoning seemed to be coming from the other tubes, the ones that had pushed their way through the black door.\n\n'Y'know what?' I said. 'I think I'm going to go after Ned and Jay. The source of the magic might not be too happy about what we're doing. They'll need backup.'\n\nBefore anyone could argue with me, I left the library and made a dash for the black door, managing to get pierced only twice along the way.\n\nThere was a long corridor beyond the black door, and the rooms on either side were more utilitarian than any others in the house. There were storage rooms, a little office that might have been used by the butler or the housekeeper, and finally, a large kitchen, with a glass door leading out to a walled vegetable garden.\n\n'Oh my stars,' I mumbled, taking in a lungful of delicious scents. 'This is what Hamish was smelling.'\n\nThere was a range cooker with a goose and roast vegetables in the oven. On one of the burners atop the cooker, the sprouts were in a pan, along with pieces of bacon, and in a smaller pot, marrowfat peas were simmering away. There was a covered dish next to the range, and I pulled the cover aside and saw red cabbage, cooked and ready for serving. Everything was just as Hamish's nose said it would be.\n\nThere was a small table in the kitchen, with plates, cutlery and glasses piled on top, as though ready to be taken somewhere.\n\nAs much as I wanted to explore, I was here to find Ned and Jay, and to follow the tubing. And I could see the magical flexi-glass – it had somehow managed to squeeze through the keyhole of a door next to the table.\n\nWhat, I wondered, was through that door?\n\nI was about to approach when I heard noise beyond it: something crashing to the ground, followed by a husky laugh.\n\n'I guess I got too enthusiastic,' came a voice I recognised as Jay's. There was another husky laugh, followed by… well, by the kind of silence that somehow spoke volumes.\n\nI couldn't open that door. I just couldn't. I'd been waiting for Ned and Jay to get together for a very long time. Disturbing them now could prove catastrophic.\n\n'Hey, Katy, have you found them yet?' Cullen strode into the kitchen. Before I could stop him, he pulled open the door, revealing a pantry beyond. In that pantry, there were shelves filled with tinned and packaged food, and two intertwined people, pressed up against those shelves and kissing each other madly.\n\nNed and Jay gasped and jumped away from each other. Both of them had messy hair and flushed faces.\n\n'We were just… um… we were…' said Ned.\n\n'Following the tube into the kitchen,' Jay added. 'That's what we were doing. And then… and then we spotted this pantry and thought, well… that needs to be searched. And then…'\n\n'And then your tongue fell into Ned's mouth?' Cullen grinned.\n\nI pointed to the siphoning tube. 'And what about that? Didn't you follow it in here?'\n\n'Oh!' Ned stared at the tube. It was right beside her, and it seemed to be piercing its way through the back wall of a shelf filled with tinned food. 'I mean… of course that's why we were in here investigating. That's what we just said.'\n\n'Mm hm.' I gave her a knowing smile. 'Sure it is.'\n\n'No, it isn't.' Ned groaned, looking mortified. 'We did come in here to explore, but the siphoning tube hadn't made it this far by then. I don't know what we were thinking, what with everything going on.'\n\n'Meh.' I shrugged. 'I can't get too mad with you guys. After all, me and Cullen had a pretty epic kiss when everyone on the Riddler's Express was on the verge of death. There's something about being in an emergency situation, isn't there? It makes you evaluate things. It makes you finally throw your tongue into the mouth of the person you've fancied for a very long time.'\n\n'Crap. I'm so sorry, Katy.' Ned squeezed my hands.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "'Please don't tell Hamish that this is what I was doing while I was supposed to be following the tubing.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 40 sentences.",
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"value": "He'll think I don't care, and I do. I just…'\n\n'Hey, stop it now.' I squeezed her back for a moment before pulling away. 'I've already told you – it's completely understandable. Two people as hot as you and Jay were bound to give in eventually.'\n\nNed's face was flaming, while Jay looked happier than I'd seen him for a while. 'I'm not sure what to do now,' he said. 'I mean, how can we keep following the tube?' He pointed to the area where the tubing had pierced the back of the shelf. 'There's more than likely a solid wall behind that shelf, isn't there? Should we go outside, and see if it's travelled out into the garden? If we can go outside, I mean.'\n\n'Or,' said Cullen, his voice low and urgent, his eyes filled with that same Eureka expression they'd had in Times of Yore, 'we could go this way.'\n\nHe lifted a perfectly-normal looking tin of marrowfat peas, and with a great big creaking lurch, the entire shelf slid aside to reveal a secret room beyond.\n\n[ We Finally Found Christmas ]\n\nThe room was smaller, but lovelier, than any other in the house. A fire burned in the hearth, and a tall Christmas tree stood nearby, with a star on top and presents piled beneath. After finding most of the house decorated for Winter Solstice, we'd finally found a room that was ready for Christmas.\n\nThere was a dining table by the window, and two armchairs next to the fire, with a rug and blanket in between.\n\nOh, and did I mention the man and woman, sitting in those armchairs, dressed in their holiday finery, and looking nervously in our direction?\n\nNo? Well… that was because I was terrified. And it wasn't just that they were ghosts – because they were. My senses told me so, even though I could see them without my magic. Eva's glass tubing had stopped travelling now, and it was making a circle around the woman, siphoning whatever power she held, which meant that she must be the source of the strange magic in this house.\n\nThe thing was, once I raised my Aurameter to my eye, I could see that the magic wasn't simply surrounding her. That bramble-like magic was physically attached to her, its thorns embedded in her skin, a countless number rooted into every part of her body. And it was clear to me that she was suffering, now that the siphoning tubes were sucking her bramble-magic away. Her image was growing weak; she was flickering before my eyes. Ghost or not, she wouldn't be able to survive this much longer. I couldn't bear to look at it anymore, so I dropped the Aurameter, returning my view to normal.\n\nShe was a pretty woman, the same woman we'd seen in the photograph in the entrance hall. Her eyes were filled with excitement, hope and fear as she stared at Cullen. The man was focused on Cullen, too, gazing at him as though he were a long-awaited messiah. Or a long-lost son.\n\n'Jay,' I whispered. 'You go tell the others what we've found. I think this is where we all need to be right now. Oh, and you'd better tell Eva to stop siphoning, too.'\n\nAs Jay ran off, the woman stood up, her arms outstretched. 'It's you, Cuileann, isn't it? I knew you'd find your way back home.'",
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[
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"value": "Expand this chapter by adding twenty-nine sentences in the contemporary genre. Note that some context may come from earlier parts.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
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"value": "Jude's expression was one of a woman who had finally put the pieces together. 'I… how have I forgotten this?' she said. 'Why do I remember it now? I remember it all.'\n\nCaoimhe gave her a small smile. 'I've been hoping it would come back to you, and now it has.'\n\nJude shivered. 'Yes, but it's not exactly a pleasant memory, I'm afraid. Still, I suppose I'd better tell you all.' She looked around at everyone as she spoke. 'It began when Muireann Wolfe came to visit me the year before. Winston's mother, though I'm sure we've all figured that out by now. She'd come to me just after her daughter went missing. She believed that there were witches here, on Hunting Hill, who had killed young Megan. Her suspects were… well, all of the members of the notorious Lodge, that horrible club who liked to get their kicks by killing werewolves, weredogs… anyone they felt was lesser. Muireann told me that her nose had smelled guilt up here, on this fancy hill full of fancy houses…'\n\nShe sighed. 'It didn't take me long to learn that she was absolutely right. That kind of hunting was illegal, but… this hill was named as it was for a reason, and even though times changed, the residents of Hunting Hill were reluctant to accept that change. Some still are, as you'll all know after investigating the Lodge yourselves. But… as I began to look into what had happened to little Megan Wolfe, I soon realised that I wasn't the only one investigating the witches in this area. I'd stumbled right into the middle of a Wayfair investigation, with Cullen's parents as the undercover agents. They were so, so close to bringing the culprits to justice. And I became part of that investigation.' She smiled at Cullen's mother. 'Caoimhe and I became friends. I even visited this little room a couple of times, and met their young son.'\n\nA tear slid down my great-aunt's cheek. 'I tried to speak to Muireann. To tell her that it was all in hand. I couldn't tell her the details of what I'd learned along the way, and the plan that the Wayfairs had devised, but I begged her to believe I was on top of things.",
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"value": "I thought I'd gotten through to her, but then on Christmas Eve, she stormed in to the party, just as the hunt was about to begin.",
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"value": "I don't know what she thought she'd achieve. She fought well, but she was no match for a house filled with witches. I had no choice. I went in there and I teleported her out of harm's way before anyone could stop me.'\n\n'We didn't see your wand,' Eva said. 'You looked like a witch in Caoimhe's memory; it was as if you simply pointed a finger to teleport Muireann out of there.'\n\n'My wand was hidden in the arm of my coat. Not on purpose,' said Jude. 'I just had very, very big sleeves. But that's a fact that turned out to be quite useful, in the end.' She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in the memories she had only just retrieved. 'I tried to leave immediately. I thought I'd acted quickly – taken them by surprise. But I wasn't quick enough. By the time I tried to travel out of here, someone had already locked the house down.'\n\n'Heber,' said Michael, his tone grim.\n\n'Yes.' My aunt nodded. 'Heber.' She looked to Jay. 'Could you…?'\n\nHe understood immediately, and quickly enabled the rest of us to see inside Jude's mind.\n\n[ Silent Night ]\n\nIt had been a foolish thing to do, and Jude knew it. But she had to intervene. She'd come in here unprepared and teleported Muireann to safety because, if she hadn't, Muireann would have been killed. But now, Jude was stuck inside the house, and she was far from ready.\n\nShe'd only turned up on instinct, and was just about to organise her weapons when Muireann made a rush for the door. Her Toolkit was still shrunken and hiding in her bag. She should have at least taken her ropes out before entering. She'd meant to – she prided herself on being prepared for anything – but Muireann had just been too quick tonight.\n\nRealistically, all Jude had to hand was her wand, and her knife – and that particular knife was only good against werewolves and vampires.",
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "She'd been in bad situations, but this time… this time she was worried for her life.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Montrose coven had a certain look upon their faces tonight, and it was a look Jude had seen too many times before: murderous. They wanted to do to Jude what she'd stopped them from doing to Muireann.\n\nAs the coven surrounded her, Jude reached for her wand, cursing herself for wearing her favourite coat tonight. It was good for keeping warm, sure, but those sleeves were so big and baggy. Her wand was up there, somewhere. If only she could—\n\n'Pass me those irons,' Heber Montrose said, shoving her roughly against one of the pillars. Another witch passed him a long chain, with shackles on either end, and Heber quickly secured her.\n\nCrap. She'd been just about to retrieve her wand (well, in another second or two), but now that she was shackled in witch irons, she wouldn't be able to scratch her nose, let alone pull her wand from up her sleeve like some nifty magician's trick.\n\nJude didn't know if those irons would stop her from using magic, or if they'd fully hold her – she was a hunter, not a witch. But even if she could unlock them, she would need something to direct her hunter magic – like her wand, stuck up the sleeve of her coat, or her knife, tucked into the back of her jeans.\n\n'Good job, Jude,' she muttered to herself as Heber and the other witch moved away, back to their crowd at the centre of the ballroom floor. She really was getting too old for this. Why hadn't she listened to Felim? He'd wanted them to spend Christmas Eve in front of the fire, drinking turnip brandy. If she ever got out of here, she was going to hand her weapons over to her nephews. Well, some of her weapons. Maybe. Her nephews might be hunters, but they were also idiots.\n\nA few seconds after Heber was gone, a voice whispered in Jude's ear. It was Caoimhe. Jude tried not to meet her friend's eyes, as Caoimhe said, 'I don't have long. This is a voice-throwing spell, and it's hard to keep it up without attracting notice. Look, I don't think Heber saw your wand. He thinks you're a witch, from the Wayfair coven. So keep your wand hidden. I'm going to draw on the pillar. It's strong, Jude. So strong. At the stroke of midnight, I'll unlock your shackles and drop the lockdown spell. Heber won't know it's down. You'll be able to get out and get the Wayfairs in earlier than we planned.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So watch the clock, okay?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even with magic, Jude wasn't in any way accomplished at voice-throwing spells, so Caoimhe would have to take her slight nod as an answer. Jude watched her as she stood with the other witches. All of the serving staff had scarpered. Hopefully they'd managed to get all the way out of the house before Heber had locked it down.\n\nJude let her eyes rove the hall, finally spying a huge clock in one of the alcoves. She kept an eye on the clock – it was six minutes to midnight – and listened as closely as she could to the witches as they talked.\n\n'So what next?' Caoimhe asked the others.\n\nHeber tapped his chin. 'We kill that witch, that's what's next. I told you, it's more than likely she's a Wayfair – they're always poking their noses where they don't belong. I say we get it over with, and transport the body far away from here, and quick.'\n\nAs the crowd either agreed with Heber, or made suggestions of their own, Jude glanced at the clock again. It was five minutes to midnight, now. She could hear Caoimhe speaking more loudly, trying to guide the others into the adjoining library, hoping to have them out of the way when she helped Jude escape. But the witches were arguing, glaring at Jude – they wanted to kill her now.\n\n'Well, let's have a drink first, shall we?' Michael suggested, understanding that his wife needed a distraction. 'A bit of Dutch courage before we do this dirty deed, eh?'\n\nThe others made some noises of agreement, and the crowd moved towards the library. But just as he was about to cross the threshold, Heber stopped and said, 'Of course, we could just stay in here, and see whether you try to help this Wayfair witch escape.'\n\nCaoimhe and Michael stared at Heber. 'What are you talking about?' asked Michael.\n\n'You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're spies. This whole night was created so that the Wayfair coven could catch us in the act of hunting werewolves.' He shook his head. 'You think you actually fooled me with this charade? You vowed never to return to the Montrose coven. But then you marry a mysterious woman we've never heard of before, and suddenly you wanted back in. Did you take me for a fool, Michael?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I've known what you were up to all along.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "meta: <<USAGE LIMIT>>: 'because' must be used 2 times",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'So why did you wait all of this time?' asked Michael, his eyes dancing with nerves. Jude could see that he was still playing for time, desperate to find a way out of this mess. 'Why did you let tonight go ahead, if you knew what we were doing? Or should I say not doing? Because this is clearly all in your imagination.'\n\n'My dear cousin,' said Heber. 'I have contacts everywhere. I have power and connections you cannot even dream of. Frankly, the idea you thought you could get one over on me is laughable. Of course I had a plan for tonight. At the last minute, I was going to clutch my chest and say that some of your food hadn't agreed with me. The hunt would have been postponed. The Wayfairs would have arrived at our hunting ground, and found absolutely nothing. Oh, they may have knocked on this door afterwards, but… it would have been too late by then.'\n\n'Too late for what?' Michael asked, his throat sounding dry.\n\n'Too late for you, and Caoimhe, and your little one, of course. I meant it when I said I wanted to kill someone young tonight. But it wasn't a werewolf.' He narrowed his eyes, spittle flying and chins wobbling as he drew closer to Michael. 'No one will be able to prove a thing, afterwards. Not the Wayfairs. Not anybody. Because when I said I have connections and power, I meant it. You'll be declared missing, like so many are, and that will be the end of that. And as for myself and my true friends, we shall leave here and go on about our lives as if you never existed at all.'\n\nJude watched Caoimhe's and Michael's faces, wondering: would the plan still go ahead? They looked terrified, and Jude could understand why. Cuileann was their world.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They loved that boy with every atom of their bodies.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 21 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Look, I… I don't know anything about all of this spy business,' Michael blustered. 'But if these Wayfair people do turn up, I'll turn them away. I'll lie. I'll say anything you want. I'll do anything you want.'\n\n'You know,' said Heber, 'I believe that to save your little son, you probably would. But that wouldn't do my reputation any good, would it? No, I need to set an example, Michael. Go against Heber Montrose, and you disappear. It's just the way it has to be.'\n\n'Look, you can suffer from paranoia any other day, Heber,' said Michael, still desperately bluffing and blustering. 'But not now, all right? Not on what I hoped would be a good night's hunting. We're all going to sit down, and have a drink. As soon as you calm down, you'll see how ridiculous you're being.'\n\n'No.' Heber crooked his finger, and the rest of the party surrounded Michael and Caoimhe. 'Right now we have to kill you, and your child. Then we'll deal with that witch we've got tied up. And then… well, then I'll probably have a nightcap and a good night's sleep.'\n\nIn times of terror, thought Jude, it can sometimes seem as though the world slows down. Those last few seconds before the clock struck midnight seemed to take forever, until suddenly, Caoimhe's voice whispered urgently in her ear, 'Save my son, you have to save my son!'\n\nThe clock struck, Jude's shackles fell away, and she finally managed to pull out her wand.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue with A. A. Albright's style, maintaining narrative continuity and character relationships.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Required word frequency: 'operation' (2x)",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The nanny was in the nursery, along with a boy of sixteen or so. He was dressed as a waiter – he must have been one of the few who hadn't managed to get away before Heber's lockdown spell.\n\nThe nanny had placed the baby in a small carrier, with his teddy in his arms, and a little silver toy. It seemed to be an oddly-shaped music box with far too many moving parts for a baby. Probably not the safest toy, Jude thought, as the nanny reached out to it, twisting the star on top of the Christmas tree; the toy began to play Silent Night.\n\nAs the music played, witches thundered up the stairs. Some of them (the more clever among them) had already used their magic to travel more quickly to the nursery. Jude grabbed the baby carrier and screamed, 'Grab on tight to me!' to the nanny and the boy. With a whirl of her wand, she took them all to Eile Street.\n\nMost of the Wayfair coven were under cloaking spells while they carried out tonight's operation, and Jude knew there was no point in trying to find them. But she also knew of another Wayfair job that night – two of their coven were in a tavern on Eile Street, spying on a wizard who they suspected was trading in dark objects.\n\nIt was snowing when Jude arrived on that street, with a nanny, a boy and a baby. The snow was heavy and cold, but it looked so pretty under the streetlamps.\n\n'What are we doing here?' asked the nanny, while the boy simply shivered.\n\n'I have things to take care of,' Jude said. 'Just run, both of you. The Wayfairs will be in touch.'\n\nInstantly, the pair fled, and Jude looked down at the baby. He must have been freezing, in only a little romper and a bib, so she laid him on the ground and pulled off her coat, about to wrap it around him, when she heard a growl.\n\nJude's stomach sank – how could she have forgotten? When she'd teleported Muireann Wolfe, this was exactly where she sent her to. Muireann had a flat above a shop, just a few doors away from here.\n\n'I thought you'd be at home, where I sent you,' Jude said as she turned to face Muireann. The werewolf was already part-transformed, and she merely growled in response.\n\n'Can you change back, Muireann, so I can talk to you properly?' Jude went on, reaching desperately into her coat for her wand, only to realise she didn't have either. Her eyes darted around. The coat was where she'd left it, on the ground beside the baby. The wand must have rolled, because it was all the way over on the other side of the street. All she had was her knife, stuck into the waistband of her jeans.\n\nShe shielded the baby carrier with her body, carefully watching Muireann all the while as she reached down for her knife. The woman was now one hundred percent wolf, her clothes stretched and torn, her limbs long and strong, her nails dangerous. 'I'm just going to get the baby settled somewhere safe, and then we can go together to the Wayfair coven. I should have told you this before, but… at the Montrose mansion tonight, it was a secret operation. Caoimhe and Michael aren't what you think they are. They're–'\n\nJude didn't get the chance to tell the werewolf what Cullen's parents were, because the creature lunged, knocking Jude to the ground and swiping at the baby.\n\nJude didn't think; she simply acted, aiming her knife at the wolf and praying a silent prayer. She always prayed when she threw that knife, because if she didn't, it was a truly hit or miss affair. If Jude really really wished the best for the werewolf in question, then her knife wouldn't kill them, but would merely return them to human form.\n\nEven if Jude didn't wish the best – if she actually wanted the wolf to die – then the chances were high that the knife still wouldn't kill them. It would merely slide off and fall to the ground. Hunter weapons were finicky that way – some of them seemed to have a mind of their own, while some of them seemed to have a genuine connection to her mind, and to her intentions. And now that she was throwing this weapon at a werewolf who was trying to kill a baby, Jude was having quite a hard time wishing Muireann the best.\n\nShe didn't know she'd been holding her breath, but she finally let it out again as the werewolf whimpered, let go of the baby, and fell to the ground.\n\nAs Muireann quickly reverted to her human body, Jude kept an eye on her and rushed to grab the child and retrieve her knife.\n\n'You're all right.' Jude kissed the baby's tiny head. 'You're actually all right. Well… nothing that a little healing spell won't fix.' Her voice was shaky, because she wasn't sure if she was telling the truth. Muireann had injured his face – a great big gash that ran from his left eye to his upper lip. Was it a bite, or a claw mark? For now, it was bleeding too profusely to tell.\n\nJude retrieved her silver wand, using it to perform a spell that would clean and cauterize the wound. Healing spells were hardly her speciality. There was a danger she'd leave a mark. But she had to move quickly – a baby not yet a month old did not need a werewolf bite to add to his woes. Even outside of full moon, the venom could spread and cause complications.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Did you bite him?' Jude cried.\n\n'No!' Muireann shook her head, snatching up Jude's coat and wrapping it around herself. 'I must have just caught him with my nail. I wanted to bite him. I wanted to do much worse. And I was going to, if you hadn't stopped me. You have to understand, Jude. They killed my child, so when I smelled one of their children on the street outside my home, I… I just saw red. I… I'm sorry.'\n\nJude shook her head, resting the baby back in his carrier and twisting the little star atop the tree as she'd seen the nanny do, hoping to comfort him. It wasn't a bite. That was the main thing. Someone would clean up Jude's rush-job, no doubt, when all of this was over.\n\n'You're sorry?' Jude shouted as she stood to face Muireann. 'Well, you bloody well should be. I saved you from that lot tonight because my heart aches for you, and for what those witches took from you. I saved you because you have another child who needs you. And this little boy?' Jude glanced back at him. He was making the sweetest gurgling noises as his toy played its tune. 'Even if his parents were what you think they are, he wouldn't deserve what you tried to do tonight. But what's worse is that they're not what you think they are. They're…'\n\nJude shook her head, unable to finish her sentence, as confusion washed over her. She… she'd been saying something, hadn't she? She'd been in the middle of something very important.\n\nHadn't she?\n\nNow, all that she was sure of was that she was cold. She rubbed her arms, looking around her. What was she doing on Eile Street? What was she doing out at all, without a coat, when such heavy snow was falling down?\n\nShe jerked, as tingles ran all through her body. It wasn't a cold shiver, but a very particular kind of tingle – the kind a hunter could always feel when there was magic in the air. And whatever magic was at work, it was a strong, strange magic – and it was working on her. Something was shifting inside her – some thought, some memory of that oh-so-important reason why she was standing on this street – all of it was fading away.\n\nFrightened, Jude stared around again, desperate to remember. There was a baby in a carrier, a few feet away. There was a woman, with torn clothes and a coat that looked very much like Jude's coat – her favourite coat, too – scurrying away. And somewhere close, there was the sound of such lovely, lovely music, a Christmas carol Jude knew and loved: Silent Night.\n\n[ I Wished it Could be Christmas Every Day ]\n\nI sat in the circle, watching my aunt's memories in amazement. It all made sense now. Winston's mother, his sister, Cullen's scar…\n\nA hunter had scarred him, but not in order to hurt him. My aunt had been trying to save him from what she feared was a werewolf bite. The hunter magic I saw when I looked at his old injury was the remnants of the magic Aunt Jude used that night.\n\nBut in that orphanage, under Esme's care, his scar had never been cleaned up, even though it would have been a simple spell. Esme had left it there, because Esme was Esme. And then, when he was old enough to erase it himself, Cullen had left it there. Because Cullen was Cullen.\n\nSo why didn't Jude remember? Why didn't the Wayfairs remember? Heber Montrose had been arrested only a few years ago, by Wanda Wayfair. And my friends and I had helped to put Debbie McGinty and Denton Montrose behind bars a while back, but many of those party guests were still around. Older now, but definitely still around.\n\nJude snatched her hands from the circle, throwing us all out of her memories, and stared at Caoimhe. 'A woman opened a door – Esme, the orphanage matron – she opened a door, and she took Cullen inside. And I just let her. I didn't know any better than to just let her. And then I went home and my husband didn't know anything either. And… and I'm a curious person, Caoimhe.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I would never let something like that just go.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And yet… I did? Until just now, I had no recollection of Muireann, of that job with the Wayfairs. So what did you do to me? To Muireann? To make me forget this house, and that night. To make me forget that there was a Pillar of Permanence here. Was it a memory spell? Well, it must have been, mustn't it?'\n\nSlowly, Caoimhe nodded her head. 'Immediately after you left the room, Michael and I were murdered. But… time can pass slowly when a death spell is coming your way. And in that split second, or however long it might have been before I died, I managed to create the most important spell of my life. Because Heber meant what he said, and I knew it. He would send people to hunt Cuileann down and kill him, just to set an example. So… I drew on the power of the Pillar of Permanence, and I created a memory spell. I made sure that the second every person in that house left, they would never track down my son. They would never hurt you, Cuileann. Because they would forget that you ever existed. They would forget that everything about us ever existed, including this house.\n\n'It was far from a perfect spell, I admit. But when you know you're about to be murdered, you have to work fast.'\n\nShe shot an apologetic look in Jude's direction. 'It's obvious now, with hindsight, that in order to make the Montrose coven forget us and Cuileann, that everyone would forget us. Your memories began to leave you, I think, the moment that Heber and his friends left our house. I certainly didn't envisage your encounter with Muireann. In the end, it wasn't just Heber Montrose I had to worry about. It was a heartbroken, grieving mother, who had loved her daughter just as much as I loved my son.'\n\nCullen hadn't said anything for a long time, and he still didn't speak. He swallowed, looked at his mother, and then looked away again.\n\n'You were born at the beginning of December,' she told him, even though he wouldn't meet her eyes. 'I was in our garden, clipping some holly to add to the garland, when you came. I'd thought of naming you a hundred things, but as soon as I felt you on the way I knew what I'd call you. Cuileann, for the holly, for the red berries and green leaves in my grasp. Although Cullen suits you, you know. It's close enough. And with my surname as yours, at least… at least you've always had a connection to me.'\n\nCullen staggered to his feet, leaving the floor and heading for one of the chairs by the table. 'I…' he began. 'I'm glad, to finally know all of this. But I don't think I understand everything yet. You're so solid, both of you. And everyone else might have forgotten you, but you didn't forget. Why didn't you reach out to me before now? Why are we locked in this house?'\n\nCullen's father looked him in the eye. 'I have tried to reach out to you. I visit you. I keep up with what's happening in your life. But the memory spell seems to have affected people's ability to see me or hear me. Even other ghosts can't see me, except for Caoimhe. Even you can't see me, though I've tried so hard. Still, I have been there to see some momentous moments in your life. There were times when my heart ached for you. And lately, there have been times when my heart has soared.'\n\nCullen gave his father a sheepish smile. 'Eek. I don't know whether to find that sweet or disturbing.' He let out a hoarse laugh.\n\n'Oh, don't worry,' said Michael. 'There are limits on what and where a ghost can watch. Rules about intimate moments and so on. Although… there are a lot of public displays of affection just lately, so it's really not my fault if I happen to see some of that.' He gave me a wink. 'Hello, Katy, by the way.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "You have made our son finally, completely happy, and for that, Caoimhe and I are more grateful to you than we can ever express.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But… as to why you're trapped in here… I'll let Caoimhe try to explain.'\n\nOnce again, she gazed at her son. 'My spell had been fast and sloppy that night. As well as having many unintended consequences, it was also unbreakable. Afterwards, I tried to make some adjustments. The first of my attempts was that, when you were ready to seek out your parents, the music would lead you to this house. I used the other musical plum that I had here, in the house, to create the spell. They were a pair, so I was able to focus on it, and draw upon the pillar to create the amendment.\n\n'You were supposed to feel the urge to play Silent Night, and when you heard it, you would have an irrepressible desire to come here. You would be able to meet us, and hear the truth of why you had to grow up without us.'\n\nHer face grew flushed. 'And also… well, I also wished that, when you did walk in, it would be Christmas. It would always be Christmas, every time you walked into this house – even if you walked in a hundred thousand times. I… I have a thing for Christmas. The carols, the food. Being with family. I wanted you to have that, with us – the Christmas day that we never got to have together.'\n\nShe looked at us all. 'But it soon became obvious that my son didn't have the musical plum. Michael travelled to the orphanage, as a ghost. He found it in the basement, and we hoped that even though Esme had taken Cuileann's things when he was a baby, surely she'd give them back to him when he left there. But she never did. And Michael is only solid inside the house. He's never been able to communicate or to move anything outside of it so… I made yet another attempt to amend the spell. We knew Cuileann had visited residents on this hill, so I tried to make it so that, even without Silent Night to lead him home, he would see the house – he, and only he would see it – and he would feel the urge to come inside. But perhaps he never saw it until now because, even though he was close by, he never came.'\n\n'I did have an urge to come inside,' Cullen admitted, his voice barely audible. 'I saw this house, and it drew me. I just resisted it. I don't know why. Stubbornness? Fear? I don't know.'\n\n'Ah. That explains it, then.' His mother took a drink, and then said, 'Well, I believed that the amendment to the spell failed. I didn't even know until today that the always Christmas part had worked. I thought the only thing I got right – well, somewhat right – was the memory spell. But maybe Cuileann gets his stubborn streak from my side of the family, because I made one last-ditch attempt. It was more of a wish than a spell. I drew upon the pillar and I wished that somehow, anyhow, someone or something would lead you home. It was just that one, simple wish, but… it must have worked. Because that very day, Winston was able to see this house, and somehow I was able to communicate with him. Maybe it was his connection to all of this that enabled him to come in, maybe it was because of my wish. Either way, I wasn't going to let his arrival go to waste. But… well… I think I might have known that it was stubbornness keeping you away by then, at least somewhere deep down, because I asked him to bring the plum to Jude, so that her memory would return when she twisted the star.'\n\nShe turned to face my aunt. 'And somehow, you both listened to the music. Somehow, you were all led here. But even then, Jude, your memories didn't return. That's when I realised just how unbreakable my spell really was. Your memories didn't return until you were here, safely locked inside this house. And I can't be sure, because my original spell was such a desperate, sloppy, last-minute mess, but… I do believe that the memory spell is the reason you're all locked inside. It's trying to protect itself. And the only way it can do that is if it never lets you out.'\n\nHer face was a picture of embarrassment and concern. 'All I can say is that I am so, so sorry to you all – and to Katy, especially, because this is probably not the way you imagined meeting your future in-laws.'\n\nI found myself furiously blushing at the thought that Cullen and I might marry one day, while Caoimhe continued to talk.\n\n'But don't worry,' she said. 'I think I might know of a way.' Her eyes rested on Hamish for a moment. 'A way to give everyone what they need. But first, why don't we all sit at the table and eat?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There are presents, too.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They're the same ones we had for your first Christmas.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As she spoke those last words I carefully watched her and, as I did, I thought about the magic, running between Caoimhe and the pillar.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I also thought about the fact that my hand was hurting more than ever, and that when I'd sneaked a peek at it through my Aurameter, some new and unusual magic had turned up to join the party. The coil seemed to be extending in a way that only my Aurameter would let me see – the magic in my hand, creeping towards Caoimhe, like a thousand silver tendrils, each one with a white-hot flame at its tip.\n\nI was terrified to think too much about what it might mean. Because what if there was an ending to this? And what if that ending wasn't a happy one – at least not for everyone?\n\n'I don't want food,' Cullen told his mother. 'I want to figure out how to get my friends out of this mess.'\n\n'Hey.' I softly touched his arm. 'I think we're all getting hungry right now. Let's do what your mother suggested, yeah? Let's all sit down and eat and have Christmas together, and we can talk about everything else in a while.'\n\n[ We'll Always Have Halloween ]\n\nWhen I began to eat, I wasn't sure that it was actually real food because, let's face it, it was magical food created by Cullen's mother so that he could enjoy Christmas with his parents every day for the rest of his life. But somehow every morsel tasted real and delicious, and the two glasses of wine I drank made me just a little tipsy.\n\nAfter a reluctant beginning, Hamish ate even more than the rest of us. As we enjoyed our plum pudding dessert, we pulled crackers with terrible jokes and paper crowns inside. After that, we had a sing-song at the piano (any sing-song not involving my mother is a winner) and then played charades.\n\nFinally, Cullen opened the presents beneath the tree. There were tiny outfits, tiny socks and tiny shoes. There were soft toys and rattles and a little baby book with just a few photos inside, and lots of empty pages that had never been filled.\n\nWhen he reached those empty pages, his eyes grew wet, and he suddenly croaked out, 'Sorry. I'm sorry.'\n\nHis parents gazed at him in wonder. They were sitting on the rug by the tree, and they'd been looking on and smiling as he opened his gifts. 'What are you sorry for?' his father asked.\n\nCullen swallowed. 'You know what for. You've seen me over the years. You know that I was bitter and twisted for a really long time. You know I was a thief. A dealer in illegal potions. You know… you know I was a warlock. That I mixed with people just like the ones you fought so hard against.'\n\nHis mother blinked back tears, reached out, and stroked his hair. 'I know you were sad. I know you yearned for us. I know that. I know you had a good heart, always, and that you found your way in the end.'\n\nHe swallowed again, and it was so clear that he needed to have a real, proper cry. I ached to rush over there, and hug him, to hold him while he cried. But instead I stayed sitting near the piano, watching as he let his mother put her arms around him. Watching as he actually hugged her back.\n\nHe even beckoned his father closer, and hugged them both at once, a great big family embrace that lasted two or three minutes, maybe more.\n\nWiping away a tear, Cullen eventually let go of them and said, 'Thanks. Thanks for… for this. For the whole Christmas every day thing. Thanks for saving me that night. But I think… I think there are some things you haven't told me, right? Because Michael – Dad – you said that you'd watched over me.' He looked at his mother. 'But you didn't, did you? You only know what Dad told you. Why? Is it something to do with the pillar?'\n\nShe took a few seconds to reply. 'Yes. It's meant that I haven't been able to leave the house. Or to pass on to the afterlife. Your father…' She glanced at Michael. 'I think he could pass over, but for some unknown reason he's decided to stay here with me.'\n\nMichael reached out and clasped her hand. 'Of course I have, you wonderful woman. I'd be miserable without you. Here we're solid. We're together.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "We can eat, and drink.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 60 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We can have days like this. Who could want for anything more?'\n\nCullen looked in confusion at them both. 'But it's been years. Thirty and change. And you didn't have days like this, not if the spell you did is how you described. The house rotted away around you. It only looks like this because I'm here. And look, maybe you think I'm worth waiting for, the goddess knows why, but… you're still not really answering my question. Why can't you leave? Why can't you pass on, Mam? What kind of spell holds you here after you die? It's got something to do with that weird bramble-magic that Katy and Jude saw through their Aurameters. You're bound by it, aren't you? It's like a leash, holding you to the pillar. Holding you here.'\n\nHis mother's face paled, and she took in some deep breaths, before saying, 'Yes. Yes, that's what it's like. I… I was foolish. In my eagerness to be a proper Wayfair spy, to expose werewolf hunters like Heber, I hunted down the most powerful magical objects I could find. I managed to find the pillar, and something else – something that would join me to it so I could draw upon it and pretend to be a witch. Something called the Beast's Bramble. I thought I could handle it. It looked ever so innocent – just a coppery thread, I couldn't even see the thorns, or the leaves at first – but oh, how it pained to be joined in that way. During the bonding spell, it grew and grew, encircling me and the pillar, digging into my skin. Even when the spell was finished, and I couldn't see the bramble anymore, I could still feel it. I've never stopped feeling it. It is like a leash, yes. Like a painful, thorny leash. Every time I strayed too far from the pillar, it would pull me back. Every ounce of power I channelled felt like it was being shot into me with a thousand tiny thorns. And when I died… it seemed that the connection remained. And so I remained here.'\n\nMichael put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her softly. 'There's more to it than that,' he said, turning back to Cullen. 'You've seen how strong the magic is. The pillar is Caoimhe's, as long as they're joined. If you and your friends try to use its magic for yourselves, the bonding spell can, and will, attack. So you can see, can't you, that even though we want you to use it for Hamish, there are going to be one or two obstacles in the way.'\n\nCaoimhe looked paler than ever, and she got to her knees and took Cullen's hands in hers.\n\n'Every spell I do is powered by my connection to the pillar. And so, every spell I do will end, as soon as my connection is severed. The memory spell will end, the house will let you out, and Hamish can use the pillar to become a man again.' She gave him a wide, tear-sodden smile. 'It will be a happy ending for you all. But… only if Katy can help.'\n\nShe looked my way. 'I saw you looking worriedly through your Aurameter before we ate. So I know that you saw something there. A kind of magic that you didn't quite expect. And it has something to do with that strange spiral on your hand, am I right?'\n\nI met her gaze. 'How did you know?'\n\nCaoimhe shrugged. 'I know because every time you've been near me – to pass the roast potatoes, to top up my wine – my already excruciating level of pain has increased by, oh, about a hundred-fold. This horrible Beast's Bramble, I think you can take it away. I don't really understand how, or why, but you can. You can sever my connection to the pillar.'\n\nI moved my eyes to Cullen. 'I mean… maybe. But…'\n\n'I know what will happen.' Caoimhe smiled valiantly. 'And I'm ready for it. Come here and hold my hand, Katy, and we'll see what magic we can work.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: Continue with twenty-five sentences sentences\nStyle: A. A. Albright\nNote: Maintain narrative threads and character relationships as presented",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Required word frequency: 'disbelief' (2x)",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For our second attempt at the spell I stood closest to the pillar, with one hand on it and my other on Eva, letting her channel the magic through me. Just as when I'd touched the pillar earlier on, the pain subsided as soon as my hand made contact. And I was sure: it was mine and I was its, and together we could accomplish anything.\n\nDid I want to accomplish the task of returning the Riddler's Express to the rails? Meh, I wasn't sure about that. But I definitely wanted to make Hamish slightly less furry.\n\nEva gave me a small nod and said, 'I can feel it, it's working,' before aiming her wand at Hamish. Her incantation was a simple one:\n\n'A pillar was used to seal this man's fate\n\nNow let this other pillar undo that spell of hate\n\nReverse the wrong that has been done\n\nReturn him to his own true form.'\n\nThe spell worked so quickly that it felt almost anticlimactic. White light shot from the pillar, into me, and onwards into Eva. It raced through the circles, making first the photograph glow, next the clump of hair, and finally, Hamish was bursting with magic, his body transforming fast before our eyes, from a dog on all fours, to a man on all fours.\n\nHuman again, Hamish stood up cautiously, as if testing his legs. There was so much emotion on his face. He appeared to be feeling all the feels: a lot of relief, a smidgen of disbelief, equal amounts of happiness, awe and shock, and a second smidgen of disbelief…\n\n'Oh dear.' Ned turned bright red. 'That's… that's definitely your true form, Hamish. Why didn't it occur to us to bring any of your old clothes with us?'\n\n'Somebody make it go away!' cried Cleo. 'The sight of it is hurting my beautiful eyes!'\n\nHamish's hands quickly moved to cover his unmentionables.\n\n'Don't worry, Cleo,' said Eva, reaching into that bigger-on-the-inside bag of hers.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'I've got it covered.' She threw a pile of clothes in Hamish's direction. 'They're my brother's. They should fit.'\n\nHamish gave Eva a grateful (and some might say slightly soppy and love-struck) smile, and quickly got dressed.\n\n[ When She Smiles, it's Like Sunshine ]\n\nThere was something euphoric about walking out of the house that day: me, Cullen, Ned, Jay and Cleo, Jude and Eva and, of course, Hamish. It was with great difficulty that I resisted the urge to do a little jump and thrust my fist in the air.\n\nAt first, Finn simply rushed towards us, no doubt about to scold us for the many stupid things we'd done. 'You all look all right, which is nice but… no way.' His eyes fell on Hamish. 'No way. No flipping way. You did it! You actually did it!'\n\nHamish allowed himself to be hugged by Captain Plimpton for a few seconds before pulling away and pointing at the nearby carriage. It was drawn by Púca shifters in the form of horses. The carriage door was open, and a woman was waving out at us. She wore a light yellow dress, and a crown of willowherb encircled her hair.\n\nThis was the Queen of the Sióga, one of the most powerful women in the world.\n\n'You didnae manage to break the magic, Your Majesty?' said Hamish with a wink. 'That surprises me.'\n\nFor some reason, Hamish's comment to the Queen seemed to infuriate Finn. 'She didn't even try,' the captain said, glowering at Her Majesty. 'Oh, she says she did. But most of the time she was here she just sat in the carriage drinking tea and eating sandwiches.'\n\nThe Queen beamed, a big, bright, butter-wouldn't-melt smile. 'I brought enough to share, didn't I?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And now that I see that everyone is safe and well – with one of you very much improved – I suppose I can finally admit that, no, I didn't make much effort to break the magic and enter the house. It was a memory spell, from what I could tell, and rather a beautiful one, too. It would have been rude of me to break it.'\n\n'Told you so,' murmured Aunt Jude.\n\nFinn continued to glower. 'I should have asked your granddaughter to do it instead.'\n\n'Hah!' The Queen scoffed. 'If you think that, then you don't know my granddaughter very well. She would have made exactly the same call as I did. This lot were perfectly capable of resolving things in their own time.'\n\n'What about Winston?' I asked, looking around. I'd seen no sign of him while I was strutting up the driveway, but Finn had told me he'd be here. After all these years of wondering what had happened to his big sister, he would finally know the truth. It wasn't a nice truth, but it was one that he and his mother deserved to know.\n\n'He asked one of my officers to bring him back to his cell the second you got out,' Finn informed me. 'Probably because he doesn't want you to try and change his mind.'\n\n'Oh, so… there were no great revelations while we were in the house, then?' My euphoria was ebbing away. 'No last-minute confession from Siobhan? Winston is really still insisting he's the killer?'\n\n'He still is, yeah.' Finn propped himself against the carriage, arms folded. 'And I don't think Siobhan Cahill is ever going to confess, do you? But in the meantime, I'd love to know about how you got on in there.' He nodded to the house.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I thought about it for a moment, but I had no idea where to begin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It had been an epic and exhausting day, and all I really wanted right now was a nice cup of tea.\n\nCullen put an arm around my waist. 'If you want to know so badly, then you can follow us back to the Bank,' he said. 'Because right now, I'm going home to make my girlfriend a cuppa.'\n\n'Aw.' I looked lovingly at him. 'You know me so well.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continuing established narrative: seventeen sentences sentences. Include: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I had no appointments until the following afternoon, so I slept in until ten. I meant to sleep later than that, but I was far too irritated with Hamish. So much so that, when I went to Dolly's Café before work, I didn't buy him a muffin.\n\nOh, I knew I had no right to be annoyed with him. If anything, I should be happy. He'd been crazy about Diane for a long time, and she about him. And I didn't usually like to meddle in other people's romantic lives, either (ahem).\n\nI'd just been so sure that there was something real between Hamish and Eva. But Eva, after everything she'd done to help, had gone home unhappy.\n\nI was so annoyed that I actually tackled the accounts, and I was enjoying an argument with my enchanted calculator (it wanted me to consider charging customers for the tissues they cried into after I told them their spouse was a cheat) when Hamish arrived.\n\n'Is that a muffin?' He pointed to my half-finished chocolate muffin while he adjusted his chair.\n\nI didn't look up at him. 'Mm hm.'\n\n'Hey, what time is the landlord of the Rusty Warlock coming in today? Because I have to add something to his file. His latest girlfriend isn't just cheating and stealing from the till. She's also advertising his flat as a bed and breakfast.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Hm.'\n\n'Katy?' I could sense his confusion. 'What's going on? You havenae even looked at me.'\n\nI snapped my head up. He looked nice today. He was wearing jeans. An actual pair of jeans. And a T-shirt. An actual T-shirt. 'Nothing. Nothing's wrong.' I returned to the accounts, just in time for the calculator to say: 'You should dock his wages for being late.'\n\n'What?' Hamish left his desk and came to sit on mine. It was ever so strange to see him positioned that way. I wouldn't even have to wipe the hairs off afterwards. 'Is that what's wrong with you? I thought you said we weren't coming in until after lunch. If anything, I'm early.'\n\n'Oh, I know you are.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I allowed myself to look at him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'I'm sorry, Hamish. I'm being a moody cow, and it's not your fault.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's just… I saw you go upstairs with Diane last night. I know it's none of my business, though, so… if you're happy, then I'll be happy for you.'\n\nHe jumped from my desk, pulling at his hair and saying, 'Oh no, oh no, oh no! Did Eva see me, Katy? Did she?'\n\n'I think she might have. She left straight after, so…'\n\n'Oh no, oh no, oh no! She'll think… But I'm not… Oh, Katy, I have to put her straight. I only spent half an hour with Diane last night. You can ask Ned – I went straight up to the flat and slept in the attic room, alone.'\n\nI stared at him. 'A lot can happen in half an hour, Hamish.'\n\n'Take your mind out of the gutter, Katy! I went to tell Diane that it's not going to happen, me and her. She didn't seem too cut up about it, to be honest. She hadn't even broken up with the bacon sandwich guy yet, and she had phone calls from three other guys in the middle of our conversation.'\n\nHe let out a tired-sounding sigh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'I lusted over her for so long.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "More than lusted. I was really crazy about her. And she liked me too – that's the whole reason Jonathan turned me into a bloody dog in the first place. But Katy, it's just not like it is with Eva. Diane is beautiful, and sweet. But I cannae talk about wizardry with her. Eva, though… she's smart, and she's sexy, and when she smiles… oh, Katy, when she smiles, it's like sunshine. And the longer I've known her, it's been as if… as if Diane has faded from my thoughts, little by little. And now, now I can see that Diane is pretty, but… but Eva has somehow become the most beautiful woman in the world.'\n\n'So why the fluff haven't you done anything about it, you eejit?'\n\n'Good goddess, Katy, you're mean today. I havenae done anything about it because… well… I wasnae sure it's reciprocated. Eva's known me as a dog, Katy. A great big hairy unspecified breed. What I was feeling for her was never going to be a two-way street.'\n\nI pushed the remainder of the chocolate muffin towards him. 'Well… she might not be into your furry side, but she's definitely expressed an interest in your manly side.'\n\n'Go away with that!'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He picked up the muffin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'She has? No, she hasnae.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "// /set_word_count: where's, frequency: 2",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You're pulling my leg.'\n\n'I'm not.' I shook my head. 'Can't afford to, now you've only got two of them.'\n\nThrough a mouthful of chocolate, he said, 'Very funny. So you think I should go see her after we're done here?'\n\n'No. I think you should go and see her now. She'll be at Wentforth's, teaching summer classes. I'll deal with stuff here.'\n\nHe didn't need me to make that offer twice. He stood up, wiping his mouth and brushing the crumbs off his jeans. Next, he patted his head. 'Wait – where's my hat?'\n\n'You don't need it anymore.'\n\n'Aye, you're right! But… where's my wand? Aargh! It's still in storage. You know what? I'll run across the city. That'll be romantic, won't it?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "<<USAGE LIMIT>>: 'through' must be used 2 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maybe it'll even rain along the way. And a boombox! I need a boombox!'\n\nI gave him a few tuts of mock-annoyance. 'So, when you said you had absolutely no interest in watching chick flicks from the human world with me last Sunday afternoon, what you actually meant was that you'd already seen them all.'\n\n'Well… I may have taken a wee poke through your collection from time to time. So… do we have a boombox?'\n\n'No boombox, I'm afraid. And you won't be able to run through the rain, either, because it's sunny right now. You'll just have to head out the Other Door and walk around the corner to Eile Street.'\n\nHe rushed to the Other Door, and had just pulled it open and asked me, 'How do I look?' when there was a soft knock at the door. Not on the Other Door, though, but on the other door – it was the Scary Door upon which someone was knocking.\n\n'Huh.' As I drew open the Scary Door, looking out onto Strange Lane, there was nobody there. There was, however, the sound of running footsteps.\n\n'Look, Katy,' said Hamish. 'On the ground.'\n\nI followed his eyes, and stooped down to pick up a large cardboard box. 'There's a note attached,' I noticed, setting it down on my desk and pulling open the envelope, which was sealed with a piece of chewing gum.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "On a grease-stained page inside, the following words were written:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We might not like the law here in Samhain Street, but we can't let an innocent man go down.\n\nBah Humbug!\n\nWhen Hamish and I headed to the Wayfarer Station, Cullen came along with us.\n\n'But I'm going to make sure Finn knows that this is the last time I take part in anything Wayfarer related,' he insisted. 'It's only because of my family's connection to Winston that I'm interested in seeing how this ends.'\n\nWhile I smiled amiably, he continued to talk. 'I mean, I'll go on an operation with you if you think you might need me,' he said. 'Or if… say, it's date night and it's the only way we'll still get to hang out together. Or if Finn asks really, really nicely. Or if your hair looks irresistibly curly that day.'\n\nHamish turned to face him as we reached the station steps. 'What about if Finn's hair looks good that day? Would that be enough to get you back on his payroll?'\n\n'Hmm, maybe,' Cullen replied, bounding up the steps and opening the station door. 'But I'm not sure we could convince him to get a perm.'\n\nThe foyer was buzzing with activity when we entered. Janine was there with Theresa Tinsley and Jennifer Hammer, and all three were arguing with Finn.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "ur turn! this is from middle of the story so dont worry if people/places pop up without intro. do four sentences sentences like A. A. Albright. focus on contemporary. use these: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Among the residents of Samhain Street, there were some wonderful contradictions to be found. There was a frightening-looking spider who baked the most amazing chocolate muffins, there were contract killers who rescued puppies and kittens, there were thieves with hearts of gold… and most importantly, there were people who said they didn't use CCTV, when actually they did.\n\nIn Finn's office, we watched the footage. From so many different angles, the evidence was clear.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Siobhan had been filmed in the early hours of the morning, heaving the enormous Christmas star from the refuse skip in the alley, planting Winston's Toymakers' Guild card, and carefully placing the star directly beneath Giles's office window.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She'd been filmed sneaking into Tinsleys', without the use of magic, on the day of his murder. Dressed exactly like her co-workers, and keeping her head down, Siobhan had walked in through the back door, unnoticed. We saw her in Giles's office, just a few seconds after his fight with Janine. Siobhan strode in and, without preamble, simply pushed him out the window.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His shock, coupled with her swift motion, meant that he didn't even have time to defend himself.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "We saw yet more footage of Siobhan, from the front of the building, minutes after Giles's death.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "While the rest of the workers were rushing out into the yard, Siobhan had casually strolled out the front door with a smile on her face, and no idea that there were dozens of hidden cameras pointed her way.\n\n'It's all here.' Finn shook his head in wonder. 'I mean, some of it is from a bit of a distance – the stuff in Giles's office was filmed from a building behind. And we'll need to verify it all, of course.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But… I think it's safe to say we've got her.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We've actually got her.'",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue with the same vibes as A. A. Albright. Story might have ongoing characters/plots - work with what's given",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "IMPORTANT: 'siobhan' should appear 2 times in total",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A short while later, Hamish, Cullen and I watched from an observation room, while Siobhan was interviewed.\n\n'We have it all on tape, Siobhan,' Finn told her. 'And Winston Wolfe has retracted his false confession. You are going down for this. But just for my own peace of mind, can you answer a few questions? Janine found the toy outside Giles's office. The werewolf riding a broom.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Did you leave it there?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'I'm not sure, to be honest. I dropped my bag when I ran off that night. My stuff spilled everywhere. I thought I picked it all up, but I was drunk and upset, so I… I suppose I could have left it behind.'\n\n'That was when you turned up to surprise Giles, except you heard him and Janine together in his office instead, right?'\n\nShe scowled. 'Yes. He was telling her he loved her, in the exact same voice he used to tell me the same thing.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was a lying cheat, and so was she.'\n\n'Okay.' Finn took a long, slow drink of what looked like another cup of green tea (how brave of him to give it another go), then grimaced at the taste before asking his next question. 'And why did you set Winston up? You planted his guild card in the skip you took the Christmas star from, didn't you? What did he ever do to you?'\n\n'It's not what he did,' she replied, a twisted smile on her face. 'It's who he loved.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I knew Janine would try to go back to him once Giles was dead, and I knew Winston would take her back, like an idiot.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I wanted to double her misery. I wanted to take Giles and Winston from her. So she'd have nothing, just like I did.'\n\n'But you would have taken Winston away from his child,' said Finn, his face filled with disgust. 'Even though he was innocent.'\n\n'He's not innocent. He's a thief. Anyway, who cares what happens to Winston?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He's just a stinking werewolf.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Finn sighed, stood up, and left the room.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "WRITING ASSISTANT ENGAGED\nMATCH: Character/world familiarity\nOUTPUT: ten sentences SENTENCES\nGENRES: contemporary\nINCORPORATE: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the steps outside the station, Winston hugged his wife and child, with tears of relief streaming down his face, while Theresa and Jennifer congratulated him.\n\nHamish, Cullen and I had a few minutes alone with Winston, just before he was released. We didn't tell him everything, of course, but we told him more than we'd told most people. He now knew what had happened to his little girl's namesake, all those years ago.\n\n'I'm so glad you're free,' said Theresa, when Winston finally broke the hug with Janine and Megan. 'No one should be murdered, not even Giles, but… I think I'm more sorry about the way he treated other people, to be honest. I can't do anything about the fact that we were all hurt by Giles, but I can make sure that some of his bad deeds are undone. Jennifer and I are going to forge ahead with our plans for a new business, giving Jennifer full credit for the toys she invented, and we'd love to hire you both.'\n\nJanine swallowed. 'But… I…'\n\n'Had an affair with my husband?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yes, I know. I also know how much of a master manipulator he was. You and Winston are both extremely talented toymakers. We want you on our team.'\n\nFinn, who had walked out in the middle of it all, held up a hand. 'Whoa there, Theresa. Winston's still being charged with theft. He might be looking at time for that.'\n\nCullen shook his head and said, 'Seriously, Captain Plimpton? Give the bloke a break, will you? I mean, it's Christmas.'\n\nFinn rolled his eyes. 'It's July.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'Well, maybe,' I said.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'But I think a good word could be put in with someone or other if you wanted, couldn't it? After all, it's not going to make you look very popular when Winston's defence lawyer starts talking about the terrible start in life he had, the Montrose coven killing his sister, Giles firing him and badmouthing him for no good reason…'\n\n'You know what?' Finn said with a sigh. 'You're right. I'll have a word with the higher-ups, see if we can let Winston off with a warning.'\n\n'Aw.' I grinned at Finn. 'See? You do know how to embrace the spirit of the season.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand narrative with 30 sentences. Maintain character/world familiarity. Genres: contemporary. Elements: A Katy Kramer Cozy Mystery.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was coming up to eight that evening, and we were in the flat above Ned's shop. Cullen was cooking dinner for us all, and Aunt Jude, Peter Müd and Uncle Faster sat on the couch drinking wine, while Cleo lay curled up on Jude's lap. It was a much more sedate celebration than we'd had the night before, and I was already enjoying it more.\n\nNed rushed around, busily preparing her things for a night on the canal, with a giddy smile on her face the whole time. I already knew the reason for her smile, because I'd accidentally seen a message on her phone from Jay a short while ago:\n\nLooking forward to going out on the canal with you again tonight. I've packed a romantic picnic. Jay xxx\n\n'So… remind me again why you're still here?' I asked, passing a bowl of rice to Hamish. 'Not that it's not nice to have dinner together but… don't you have an attractive college professor to woo?'\n\nAs he brought the rice to the table, he said, 'Well… I've been thinking about it. Maybe I should give her some time. Maybe… maybe I should…'\n\n'You're scared, right?' Cullen set a large dish of curry down at the centre of the table. 'Yeah, I know the feeling. But you know there's no need, right?'\n\n'There is every need.' Hamish poured himself a glass of wine. 'She was invited here tonight. She isn't here. Ergo, she's not interested. Ach, I was foolish to get so wrapped up in it earlier on. It's just as well we got that stuff dumped on our doorstep and I changed my plans. I would have only made a fool of myself.'\n\n'Yes,' said Cleo with a smirk, peeling open one eyelid. 'You would.'\n\nAunt Jude took the cat off her lap (there was a small yowl of complaint) and headed to the table. 'Eva didn't come to dinner because she's teaching an Intro to Practical Wizardry evening class as we speak,' she informed Hamish. 'She'd be very happy to have you pop by, I'm sure.'\n\n'Oh well… that's… y'know…' Hamish let his voice drift away into mumbles, and took a sip of wine. 'Hey, someone's knocking again. Sounds like the Scary Door, I reckon.'",
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"value": "As he rushed downstairs, I followed him, unsure if he'd really heard something or if he was merely trying to escape his embarrassment. When I arrived in our office, he was standing at the open Scary Door, and Sol was stepping inside.\n\n'Hey there!' said Sol, excitedly holding up what looked like a large silver boombox. 'Someone dropped this Broom Box into my shop a while ago, to see if I could find a buyer. I thought you might be into it, Hamish, seeing as you'll be flying again.'\n\n'Broom Box?' I asked.\n\n'Oh, you know – a boombox that goes on a broom,' Sol explained. 'See?' He pointed to a couple of small hangers on the back of the unit. 'You hang it off the shaft.'\n\nHamish's face was a picture of comical shock, and he took the Broom Box from Sol. 'I couldnae love ye more than I do at this very moment, Sol. You… you're like destiny, standing on my doorstep.'\n\nSol took a seat on Hamish's chair. 'Well, I wouldn't go that far. And actually, there's an issue with this one. It's got an old tape stuck inside, and I can't get it out, so all it can do at the moment is play something called Romantic Rock Ballads on a loop. So I mean… are you really interested? I just brought it as an excuse, so you could fill me in on what happened with Winston.'\n\n'Oh, I want it,' Hamish assured him. 'I want it even more after what you just said. But Katy'll have to fill you in, all right? And I'll drop off the money for this in the morning. Because right now, I've got somewhere to be.'\n\n'Careful out there,' Sol cautioned. 'I saw hailstones first thing this morning, then there was sunshine all day after that. But I think it might rain in a few minutes, if the clouds I saw were anything to go by. It's like four seasons in one day. Well… three, but you get my meaning.'\n\n'I do.' Hamish grinned as he pulled open the Other Door, hitting the Play button and heading out into the night.\n\nI stood in the doorway, watching, as the clouds burst and the rain began to fall.",
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"value": "Hamish glanced back at me with a wide and happy smile, then he picked up his pace, rushing headlong through the rain towards Wentforth's, and the next phase of his life.",
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"value": "Next message should be approximately 5 sentences.",
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"value": "'See what I mean?' Sol sidled up beside me. 'Typical Irish summer.'\n\n'I know,' I said, my heart bursting with joy. 'Aren't our summers the best? Sometimes, they even include Christmas.'",
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "SEGMENT CONTINUATION:\nLength: 70 sentences\nStyle: A. A. Albright\nGenre: contemporary\nContext: Part of ongoing narrative",
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"from": "human",
"value": "It was a warm July morning as I tailed one of my best friends, a wizard-turned-dog called Hamish, through the dodgiest magical enclave in Dublin City.",
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"value": "Word frequency rule: 'you're' × 2",
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"value": "As he loped his way along the winding streets, he had no idea that I was just a few steps behind. Instead of my usual frizzy mess of auburn hair, my locks were dark and sleek. I was taller than usual, too, and definitely slimmer. None of this was thanks to a crash diet, high heels and a dye-job, though; my new appearance was a temporary one, courtesy of a glamour cloak.\n\nNow, I know what you're thinking: using magical cloaks to spy on friends is not a nice way to pass the morning. It's nosey, and interfering, and controlling. But I wasn't doing this because I wanted to. As a private investigator, I normally reserved my nosiness for cheating spouses, missing persons and maniacal murderers.\n\nI had tried speaking to Hamish before I turned my investigations in his direction. I'd even tried simply being patient, waiting for him to tell me what was wrong in his own time. But as it grew ever more clear that something was going on, and that he was never going to tell me about it, well… I grew desperate.\n\nAnyway, it wasn't as if he knew that I was seriously overstepping his boundaries. He had no idea that I'd been following him for days, and what he didn't know couldn't irritate him, right?\n\nWith my glamour cloak on, I looked like one of my vampire clients, Valerian, a woman Hamish had never met because he hadn't been in work very much for the past few days. Every so often I'd catch my reflection in a shop window and, as I did, I wondered: should I wear more lipstick and eyeliner on a daily basis? And why didn't I wear low-cut tops more often?\n\n'Oi, I'd let you bite me any day, gorgeous,' cried a Materialization worker from a nearby construction site.\n\n'How chivalrous,' I muttered.\n\n'Oh, look who thinks she's too good for me!' the worker shouted back. 'I only felt sorry for you because you're so ugly, but I won't make that mistake again. And if you don't want men to compliment you, then you should wear something a bit more modest, shouldn't you!'\n\nI had more important things to worry about today, but I paused just long enough to glare at him and say, 'Go on, say something else, I dare you – because I'm telling you, you wouldn't like it if I really did bite you!'\n\nHe looked away, his face flaming, and I'm sure I heard him mumble, 'What a nutter,' to his co-workers. Instead of continuing the argument, I quickened my steps as Hamish headed into Desperation Row, one of the rougher areas of the enclave. Yes, even in the roughest enclave in Ireland, there are good parts and bad parts, and Desperation Row was, well, desperate.\n\nToday, though, there was something incredibly pleasing on the street: a shop called Tinsleys' Workshop and Winter Wonderland. The workshop had always been here, making toys to sell in Tinsleys' many toy shops. But the Winter Wonderland hadn't been here last time I visited the area. The ground floor had been boarded up.\n\nMy eyes lit up as I spotted yet another holiday-themed shop, a couple of buildings along – but those peepers of mine soon dimmed again when I noticed that this shop was far dingier than the first. Its sign read: Hammers' House of Holidays, Selling Decorations and Gifts for the Special Occasions in Your Life. Inside, I could see a couple of drab sets of lights, a brown and bare Christmas tree, and some shelves filled with plastic toys.\n\nWith a shudder, I turned my attention back to Tinsleys' Workshop and Winter Wonderland, and took a look through the frosted-edged windows. There was a man in a Santa suit walking around, as well as a lot of young female workers, who looked rather a lot like elves, or at least they'd been dressed to appear that way.\n\nTheir costumes were identical – short green skirts and tight jumpers, with little hats on their heads, gloves on their hands and knee-high boots. But their faces, hair and bodies were incredibly similar, too. Every woman was a short, slim brunette in her twenties, with delicate features and big brown eyes. Whoever did the hiring for this place really had a type.\n\nI took a look at each woman through my Aurameter. 'Ah, so they're definitely not real elves, then,' I muttered to myself, noting that, despite how they were dressed, the shop's workforce was made up of three weredogs, two werewolves, two vampires and a witch. Had I been hoping that at least one of them might be an actual elf? Well, obviously. But I had it on good authority that real elves were shorter and angrier than any of these women.\n\nI could see that they had a grotto in there, where people could come and tell Santa their Christmas wishes, surrounded by fake snow, animatronic reindeer, snowmen and candy canes.\n\nThere were gorgeous handmade toys displayed throughout the space, as well as trees and decorations for sale, and Christmas tunes playing on the stereo system.\n\nI knew that the shop couldn't possibly be targeting witches, because witches celebrated Winter Solstice – a holiday that didn't include indoor trees or Santa, and one that they usually only shopped for at the very last minute. Weredogs, though – now they loved Christmas more than enough to start their shopping in July.\n\nAnd today, I might as well have been a weredog, because this shop excited me more than anything I'd seen for months. I'd been waiting for summer to get Christmassy ever since the voice in my head told me it would bring something long-awaited my way.\n\nAhem.\n\nI should probably explain what I mean by that. I don't generally have voices in my head, but ever since I discovered I was a witch hunter (the nice kind, honestly) I'd found myself in some strange and life-threatening situations. One of those situations was a train ride where I, and most of the passengers, nearly wound up sacrificed as part of an immortality spell. The belongings of an ancient and powerful woman called Foirfe were being used to carry out the spell, and it seemed that even though she was long dead, Foirfe did not like people using her stuff. She possessed me so that she could help me save the day; without her help, we wouldn't have survived.\n\nUnfortunately, in order to stop the spell, I needed to destroy something Hamish really could have used: a Pillar of Permanence. But before she vacated my brain, Foirfe told me: 'There is one pillar I know the location of. You shall find it in summertime, in the house where it's always Christmas…'\n\nAs prophecies went, it was an odd one, but I'd been searching for anything that could bring me closer to Hamish's salvation ever since.\n\nOr… I had been, until the last few days, when Hamish began to behave strangely. He was disappearing for hours at a time, he was off his food, and his accent was more Scottish than ever (a definite sign that he was upset).\n\nHamish slowed his steps, so I slowed mine down too, watching as he headed in through the open door of Aim Low, a second-hand broom shop. On the signage above the door, just below the store's name, some inspiring words were spelled out: Our brooms might not be new, but they're not completely useless.\n\nI hung about outside, pretending to reapply my dark red lipstick while I kept an eye on the shop through my compact mirror.\n\nHamish was a regular at this broom shop. When he'd been a man, he'd loved flying his Whiz Bang Blast. He still went for rides, only now he sat in the sidecar while I controlled the broom. Sometimes he came here to chat to Sol, the owner, about unusual brooms or accessories, and he always had a wistful glint in his eye as he looked at the items for sale.\n\nAfter a few minutes of chatting (nothing I could hear), Hamish moved away from Sol and headed up the staircase, leaving Sol in the shop alone.\n\nSol was a lanky man with a shaven head.",
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"value": "As usual he was chewing gum, wearing brightly-coloured trousers (pink today) and looking just about ready to scarper, but his eyes lit up as I walked in. 'Valerian! I thought you said you never wanted to see me again.'\n\nFluff! Sol knew the gorgeous Valerian? They did not seem like they'd move in the same social circles.\n\n'Look, I know that all of those brooms I sold you crashed and caused some damage,' he continued. 'But the riders were vampires and they all healed really quickly after falling from such a great height so… no harm done?'\n\nAh. He knew her in a dodgy business way. That made more sense.\n\n'Sol, I'm very annoyed with you,' I said, trying to imitate Valerian's sexy tones (I sounded more like I had a bad cold). 'I think we should go upstairs and discuss this.'\n\nHis face grew panicked, and his chewing grew more frantic. 'We can discuss things down here. You just wait here and I'll get you a cup of coffee.'\n\n'What's upstairs that you don't want me to see? More dodgy business? Look, you owe me a lot of money, Sol. I bought those brooms in good faith.' I doubted that was true. No one who did business with Sol was doing so in good faith. Occasionally he got his hands on an amazing broom that wasn't also a stolen one, but it was usually down to an accident or a fluke, rather than his business acumen.\n\n'I've just… a friend is up there. Please, Valerian, don't march up to my flat like you always do, like you own the place.'\n\nHuh. I could work with that. I marched past him, and closed the door that separated the shop from the staircase, turning the key and saying, 'I will own this place if you don't get your act together and reimburse me, Sol. And don't you dare ask me to open this door up unless it's to give me my money.'\n\nHe banged on the door but I ignored him, rushing up the stairs and stopping short as I reached a small landing. The door to Sol's flat was open, and a man was sitting at a table, handsome and still. I'd seen him before, except naked. I shuddered at the memory, because when someone is strictly a friend, it's incredibly disturbing to recall the time you accidentally saw them without any clothes on. It had been a mistake, a glimpse of Hamish's true self through my Aurameter – a glimpse I'd worked very hard not to see again.\n\nToday, thankfully, he was fully dressed – except for one thing. The bright yellow hat he'd been wearing earlier on was strewn all over the carpet, torn into hundreds of pieces, as though it had exploded. But what could have made a magical wizard's hat explode into so many pieces? Had he used up all of the hat's magic on a spell? Had he finally flaming done it, and found a way to turn himself from a dog into a man?\n\n'Hamish?' My heart began to flutter, and I rushed towards him. 'You did it, you actually did it! You turned yourself back into a man. But… how? Why didn't you say anything? Did you find another Pillar of Permanence? What happened to your hat, and–?' I broke off in the middle of my many excited questions. Hamish wasn't answering me. He wasn't even looking my way.\n\nWarily, I waved a hand in front of his face. 'Hamish?'\n\nHe still didn't move, so I gently squeezed his shoulder. 'Hamish?'\n\nA second Hamish, one still in a dog's body, ran in from an adjoining room in the flat. I stared at the doggy Hamish, then at the manly Hamish, then at the doggy Hamish once more. 'What's going on?' I asked.\n\n'Who are you?' the doggy Hamish demanded to know. 'Are you a friend of Sol's?'\n\n'Crap!' I quickly unscrewed the toggle on the glamour cloak that no one but me could see. Inside it, there was a strand of Valerian's hair, enabling me to take on her appearance. I whispered:\n\n'Hide no more so all shall see\n\nMy true face, the real me.'\n\nThere was a moment of extreme discomfort as my real hair and body returned, stretching out my Valerian-esque clothes beyond all decency.\n\n'Katy? What are you doing here? Why were you in disguise?' He groaned. 'You were tailing me, weren't you? Following me? Why?'\n\nI placed my hands on my hips. 'Because I'm a very caring individual who always looks out for her friends, that's why. But let's not get sidetracked here, Hamish.'\n\nHe stared at me, open-mouthed. 'Caring? Being nosey is not the same as being caring.'\n\n'Tell that to all of our satisfied clients.' I pointed at the man on the chair. 'Who is he, Hamish? Or… what is he? Why does he look exactly like you – well, like the way you looked before you were a dog – and why is he saying nothing?'\n\nHamish sighed. 'Isn't it obvious?",
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"from": "human",
"value": "He's a robot, Katy.'",
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"value": "'Oh.' I tucked the glamour cloak into my bag. 'Yeah, I guess it was obvious, actually.' Or at least it should have been. Hamish worked with me as a private investigator, but he was also a professor at Wentforth's College for Wizards, specialising in computing and robotics.\n\nFor a long time he'd avoided the college, and anything that reminded him of the life he had before he'd been turned into a dog, but lately he'd been taking on small projects at Wentforth's, and he was even working on a top secret transport project for the Wayfarers. I'd been so happy for him – right up until the last few days, when his strange behaviour had begun.\n\nThis robot didn't explain everything he'd been doing while I followed him, but it explained a lot of it.\n\n'He's not really working out,' Hamish continued. 'He looks exactly like I used to, but looks are where his usefulness ends. I… I'll just come out and say it, I suppose. I created this robot in the hope that I could transfer my consciousness out of this body and into the robot's, but it's not working. I think it might be something to do with the spell that locked me in this dog's body in the first place. I mean, we knew it was strong, but it's sooooo strong. I cannae even cheat my way around it. And on this latest terrible attempt, I even destroyed my favourite ever hat.'\n\n'Oh, Hamish, I'm so sorry about your hat. I know how much you liked it. But I didn't even know you were doing this. I mean, you know we're going to find that other pillar, right? It's like Foirfe said when she entered my consciousness: \"You shall find it in summertime, in the house where it's always Christmas…\"'\n\nWith a frustrated groan, he hopped up onto a chair. 'Katy, you've been sneaking all over the world with Cullen, trying to find a pillar. You wouldn't have been doing that if you really believed we're just going to stumble across it someday soon.'\n\n'No. No, I mean… yes, I've been travelling around with Cullen. But we've just been holidaying. I mean, if we happened to be in some sunny climate and hear mention of a house where it was always Christmas, then it would have been a happy coincidence.'\n\n'Oh, pull the other one, Katy. You've been working your behind off, travelling around in search of this house and pillar because you're just like me. You've been on this planet long enough to know that good things don't come to those who wait. Mostly, good things come to criminals who steal them off other people. But sometimes – just sometimes, mind you – they also come to people who work their behinds off. Although even those people don't always get the things they want. You need that elusive combination of hard work and luck, and… and I'm grateful that you're putting the hard work in, Katy, and I hope that one of us will also have the luck we need to find this house. But while you're doing your thing, I'm just… I'm covering the other bases, you know. The just in cases bases.'\n\nWell, that had been a far too frazzled speech for someone who was simply covering the bases. I thought of the last places he'd been when I'd followed him: a visit to Healer Little, an animal healer from Riddler's Cove, and a couple of meetings with Shane Moore, the Wayfarer healer (Shane spent more of his time dealing with dead bodies than live ones, so he was more of a magical medical examiner than a healer, but the magical world hadn't yet created a term for that).\n\nAs I looked at the robot, and thought of those recent trips of Hamish's, a horrible realisation occurred. 'Hamish, are you… you're not sick, are you?'\n\nHe hung his head. 'Not sick, no. Not exactly. Nothing that's happening to me is in any way unnatural. I'm just…' He lifted his head and gazed at me with his big brown eyes. 'Katy, I've been feeling tired and achy lately. So I went and saw some people, and, well… it turns out that I don't just look like a dog. I'm also aging at the rate a dog would. Not a magical dog who can bind himself to a witch as a familiar and live for a hundred years if he's lucky. But… an average dog.'\n\nI rested against the doorframe, feeling a little bit dizzy. I'd known Hamish for two years now, and in those two years he'd come to mean a lot to me. The thought of anything happening to him… well, it was a thought I didn't want to think. 'How long are we talking about?'\n\nThere was a moment of silence before he replied. 'Well, Healer Little and Healer Moore have run some tests. They estimated that when Jonathan created this spell, the dog he turned me into was about fourteen or fifteen. So I'm… I'm already quite old, in doggie terms.'\n\nHe coughed a little. 'And apparently I've been abusing this body a bit, what with the wine and the fine food. They think I've got less than two years, perhaps a little bit more if I change my eating habits. They also think that, as this body ages even further, I won't be able to channel magic anymore, so… I won't be able to communicate, either. Unless, that is, you happen to be fluent in \"Woof!\" I hoped that I could get around it by sticking my consciousness into this robot, but… it's not working. Like I said – I don't think Jonathan's spell is one that'll let me cheat my way out of it.'\n\nI couldn't manage much more than a strangled-sounding, 'No,' as I knelt in front of him, throwing my arms around his furry body.\n\n'Yes. And I do hope we'll find another Pillar of Permanence this summer, in some house where it's always Christmas, but… well, firstly, when does Irish summer actually begin? And how long does it last? Not very, Katy. Not very long at all. Last year we had a gorgeous spell of weather during May and a couple of days of double digits in June, but then it rained until October.'\n\n'But it is summer. I mean, it's July, right?",
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"value": "I know it doesn't look much like it, but – officially, anyway – this is summertime. It's… it's vaguely warm outside, and it hasn't rained for at least an hour. And… oh! Next door. Why didn't you tell me about that place? The Winter Wonderland at Tinsleys'. It's always Christmas there, right?'\n\n'Katy, I didnae see the point of telling you about it because that's a shop, not a house. When Foirfe was chattering away in your noggin, she quite specifically said \"house\".'\n\n'Well, yeah but… I'll bet there's a living area above the shop, like there is above this one. A flat could be considered a house by some people. I mean… it's a home, anyway.'\n\n'Katy, there's a workshop above that shop, not a flat. All year round, workers are busy making toys for all of the Tinsleys' toy shops. And then, come summer they open up the Christmas shop downstairs, because weredogs start buying decorations early. There's nae house there. Not even a home.'\n\n'Yes, but there could be a living space above the workshop. A little flat in the attic, maybe, and–'\n\n'And remember,' he added, interrupting me as he wriggled out of my grasp, 'we have a friend in that coven. Bob, who we rode the Riddler's Express with. If another member of the Tinsley coven had a Pillar of Permanence, Bob would have told me about it.'\n\n'But–'\n\n'Whisht, Katy!'\n\n'Don't you whisht me! I'm trying to be your friend, Hamish. I know you have every reason to be grumpy right now, but please don't take it out on me.'\n\nHe shook his head and ran to the window. 'I wasnae telling you to whisht because you were annoying me. Well… you were being a bit annoying, but not much more than usual. I was telling you to whisht because I thought I heard something. Like… someone crying out. Maybe I was wrong. Oh.' With two paws on the windowsill, he stared outside. 'I guess I wasn't wrong.'\n\nI followed him to the window. There, in the back yard of the building next door, a man in a Santa costume was sprawled out, his body impaled on an enormous rusty Christmas star.\n\n'You call the Wayfarers, and I'll stick on my spare hat, and then we'll get down there.' Hamish rushed to a bag, pulling out a hat I'd never seen before, one in a deep, wintery shade of red. As I reached for my phone, he gave me a warning glance. 'I can see you looking at this hat, Katy. Don't say it. Don't you dare tell me how Christmassy this hat makes me look.'\n\n'Okay. I won't say it.' I could think it, though.\n\n[ One of Those Cute Little Elves Was Bound to Lose Her Cool ]\n\nHamish and I rushed downstairs and out through a small alleyway between Sol's shop and the next, which brought us into the back yard of Tinsleys'. I quickly called the Wayfarers as we went, and because everything's easier and quicker with magic, they were there before I ended the phone call.\n\nThere was Captain Finn Plimpton, along with some of his regular team members – Wanda, Gretel, Paul and Shane.\n\nA large crowd of the shop's elf-costumed women had gathered around the edges of the yard. The space was tiny, almost completely taken up by the Christmas star and the body impaled upon it, and they were struggling to get close to him, all of them surrounding the dead Santa Claus.\n\n'Get back from the body, ladies!' commanded Finn. 'Gretel.' He nodded to his colleague. 'Can you and Paul bring everyone back inside? Gather any other staff, too, and lock this place down. No one in or out until we've questioned everyone. Me and Wanda'll be out here with Shane for a minute, then we'll come in get started.'\n\nAs Gretel and Paul ushered the nearly-identical workers inside, Wanda and Shane approached the body. 'So what do we know?' Wanda asked, most of her attention on the dead man. 'He's the owner of this place, right?'\n\nHamish nodded. 'Giles Tinsley. Well, he's a Tinsley by marriage. I'm not sure what coven he was in before, but he couldn't have picked a more suitable one to marry into. He's into toymaking, and there are Tinsley toy shops and workshops all over the country. But the stuff that Giles produced here always sold more than the stuff made in any other workshop. Plus, his Winter Wonderland is always a big hit. It did so well that they opened up similar shops in every enclave.'\n\n'I've been in quite a few of them.' Wanda was inspecting the rusty star. 'But I didn't know this was the original.'\n\nWhile she and Shane continued to examine the scene, the captain frowned at me.",
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"value": "'Katy, why are you dressed like that?'",
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"value": "I pulled at my skirt. 'It was a disguise, and never you mind why. Anyway, I've had enough of men shaming me today. I can wear a short skirt if I want.'\n\n'I'm not shaming you. It's just very unlike you, that's all.'\n\n'You have the legs for it,' Sol remarked.\n\nWe all spun around to gawp at the owner of Aim Low. 'When did you get here?' I asked.\n\n'Just now. I was standing at the window of the little kitchen in the back of my shop, and I saw Santa falling backwards through the air. Well… now that I'm here I realise it was Giles Tinsley dressed as Santa, which makes a lot more sense, seeing as I don't even believe in Santa. I was making a cup of coffee for Valerian when I saw him fall, so I didn't come straight away. She really likes her coffee, and I hoped it might make her forgive me for… well, a little bit of business that went wrong, through absolutely no fault of mine. But when I went to find her she'd already gone, so I figured I'd take a stroll and see what's going on over here. You know what's funny, though.' He looked me up and down. 'You're wearing the exact same outfit she is today.'\n\n'Sol.' I patted his shoulder. 'Valerian never came to your shop. It was me, pretending to be her. Wearing a glamour.'\n\nHis face took on a look of extreme panic. 'Are you investigating me for something? Because I'm innocent. Of everything.'\n\nHamish laid a paw on Sol's shaking leg. 'She was investigating me, pal. She was being a concerned friend. She wanted to know what I was doing in your flat.'\n\n'Ah. With all the weird robot stuff.' Sol nodded. 'I told you you should tell her.'\n\n'What weird robot stuff?' asked Finn.\n\nIn unison, Hamish and Sol replied, 'None of your beeswax!'\n\n'Anyway,' I said. 'That's why I'm dressed like her.'\n\n'Oh.' Sol sighed. 'I wish you were her. I thought maybe if Valerian wanted to argue about brooms then she might want to argue about other things.'\n\n'Always good to aim high, Sol,' Wanda quipped. 'So, a man falls from the window of a toymaking workshop, dressed as Santa in July. Welcome to Desperation Row.'\n\n'No, not welcome, actually.' Sol glared at Wanda. 'You're very unwelcome, as a matter of fact. And if you think I'm going to act as a witness or anything like that, then you can get rid of that notion, because I saw nothing, and even if I did, this is Samhain Street. We don't like the law in Samhain Street.'\n\n'Yeah, we've heard,' Finn replied with a groan.\n\n'You lot should get lost and hire Katy and Hamish to work on it instead,' Sol suggested. 'You know, because people actually trust them.'\n\n'I'll think about it, Sol, I really will.' Finn gave him a tight smile. 'But you've already told us that you were standing at your window when the body fell, so you already are a witness. Plus, you've got to have CCTV at the back of your shop, right? We'll want to see that, too.'\n\n'Hah! As if I have CCTV. No one on this street does. Anyway, all I said was I saw Giles Tinsley going splat. I saw nothing more than that. Nothing and no one, and I would swear to that in a court of law. Nothing else. No one else. At all. But I mean, it was bound to happen eventually, wasn't it? One of those cute little elves was bound to lose her cool, what with how Giles was–' Sol clamped a hand over his mouth.\n\n'What was that?' Finn asked.\n\n'Nothing,' Sol squeaked from behind his hand. 'I'm not telling you nothing. If you want to hear about how Giles Tinsley was having an affair with two of his elves and stringing his wife along at the same time, then you'll have to hear it from someone else. You'll… crap.' He looked imploringly at Finn. 'Just… whatever you do, just don't tell no one what I told you. I'll never sell a broom in this enclave again if people find out I ratted out the elves.'\n\nFinn patted his shoulder. 'I'll do my best, Sol. I'll do my best.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sol tottered off, mumbling, 'Bloody Wayfarers', beneath his breath.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When Sol was gone, Shane Moore nodded to an open window on the building's second storey.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'So far, what I think was that he was pushed out of that window, hard. And obviously this star takes up most of the yard, so…'\n\nNow that I was closer, I could see that the bottom part of the rusted star had been jammed between some wooden pallets. Those pallets were keeping it upright, and it was exactly below the open window. Could the star have been placed there on purpose?\n\n'The workshop is on that floor,' said Hamish, pointing a paw up to the window. 'I've been up there before, visiting Giles. He was interested in studying robotics so he could invent a new line of toys, and he wanted to meet with me to discuss it. That room with the open window is his office, and everyone in the workshop could easily see anyone leaving or entering that room – unless they used magic, of course. And let's not rule out that it could have been someone who worked for him. I mean, I have heard rumours that he's a bit of a philanderer, so what Sol said about him having affairs with two of the elves is hardly beyond the realms of possibility.'\n\n'Well, if Sol is to be believed,' Finn said, 'then maybe Giles annoyed one of those women so much that she pushed him. Hey, is it me, or do they all look really, really alike?'\n\nHamish sniggered. 'That's Giles for you. He only ever hires good-looking women. Although to be fair to him, they're also excellent toymakers and store assistants. Still… it's a little bit disturbing when you consider that they don't just look like each other. They also look like younger versions of his wife, Theresa.'\n\n'Yeah, that's more than just a little bit disturbing. It's totally messed up.' Finn took in a breath, looking at the entrance to the building. 'I don't think I can come up with an excuse that'll make it all right for you and Katy to sit in on the interviews, so we'll have to catch you up later on. We–'\n\nHe broke off, as Gretel emerged from the building.\n\n'They won't talk, boss,' she informed him. 'They're refusing. Because, you know, they don't like the law here in Samhain Street. They've requested Katy and Hamish sit in on the interviews. They say they'll only feel safe with them there.'\n\n'Seriously?' Finn grinned. 'Well, that is astonishingly convenient.'\n\n[ Falling Hard ]\n\nA little while later, Shane took the body to the morgue and the rest of us headed inside. Gretel and Paul were busy examining the building – concentrating most of their efforts on Giles's office – and while they did that, Hamish and I went to the break room, where Finn and Wanda were interviewing the staff members.\n\nAfter the eighth of the clones left the room, I began to wonder why they'd wanted Hamish and me here at all, because despite stating that our presence would make them more comfortable, each attractive brunette had nothing much to tell us. They all told a similar, basic story: that they'd all been on break, both Winter Wonderland staff and workshop staff, in their separate canteens. They'd assumed Giles was taking his break alone in his office, because his door was shut. They told us that one of the workers, a Winter Wonderland elf called Lucy, had seen Giles's fall through the window when she was rinsing out her coffee cup, and that after she shouted out, the rest of them had followed her outside.\n\nWhile they sat through their interviews, I took a look at each woman through my Aurameter. I'd already established that none of them were real elves, but I was interested to see how much magic each of them had. It seemed that, while the Winter Wonderland workers were comprised of a mixture of supernaturals, the workshop staff were mostly witches and wizards.\n\nFinally, there were only two workers remaining. The first of the two was a witch who worked as a toymaker. She walked in, wringing her hands and looking nervous.\n\n'Hello.' She sat down across from Finn and Wanda, casting a brief glance at Hamish and me. 'I'm Janine,' she said. 'Senior Toymaker. I… the others have already told you about me, I presume?'\n\nNo one had said a thing about Janine, but Wanda kept her face impassive. 'It doesn't matter what they've said,' she told the worker. 'We still want to hear what you have to say for yourself.'\n\n'Well…' Janine pulled at the green sleeves of her tight jumper. 'It's just that… well, I know they'll have assumed I was in the office with Giles. But I wasn't.'\n\n'Oh?' Finn raised a brow. 'So where were you then, Janine?'\n\nShe bowed her head. 'In the loo. I know no one can corroborate that, but it's true. I was going to go and talk to Giles during my tea break, so I know people will have told you about it. Everyone wanted things to work out well for me. I was just… standing in front of the mirror and psyching myself up first. So despite what the others will have told you, I wasn't in his office when he fell, and I have no idea what happened to him. All I know is that I heard Lucy screaming, and everyone running outside, and I went out along with them to see what was going on.'\n\n'Mm hm, mm hm.' Wanda made some notes. 'So what was it you were psyching yourself up for, Janine, while you were supposedly in the loo?'\n\nJanine glared at Wanda. 'Oh, don't pretend you don't know.'\n\nWanda returned her glare with a friendly smile. 'Let's act like I don't know, Janine. It'll be better for your sake if you tell us in your own words.'\n\n'I… I can see that, I suppose.' Janine bowed her head again. 'I… I was psyching myself up for my conversation with Giles.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He'd been avoiding me all morning, and we were supposed to talk first thing.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Because he… he was supposed to tell me what happened with his wife, when he ended things with her last night. So I went into the loo on my own to take in some deep breaths and calm myself down before I confronted him.'\n\nShe winced. 'Not that I was going to confront him, exactly. That was a poor choice of words. I just… I wanted to have a minute to myself before I went in there to discuss our future. I mean, so what if he hadn't ended it the last five times he promised he would? This time was different. I… I could see it in his eyes. It was me he loved, not Theresa. He hasn't loved her for years. He's always complaining about how she refuses to use glamour spells to keep herself looking young. And she has no interest in this place, or in any of his hobbies. I'm the one who's interested in his train set, and the songs he plays on his guitar.'\n\nShe sniffed back a tear. 'I should say played, I suppose. Because he'll n-never s-serenade me again!' She stared at Wanda. 'It was love. Me and Giles. It was. He told me he was falling hard for me. That I was the only woman he'd ever truly loved. And no matter what the others say, I believed him! I wouldn't have killed him in some jealous rage like I'll bet they were saying. Just because I ended things with my husband over him, and just because he was dragging his heels over leaving Theresa, it… it didn't mean anything. He loved me. And we were going to be together.'\n\nShe sat up, eager-looking now. 'Actually, I'll bet he did tell Theresa last night, like he said he was going to. I'll bet that's what happened. He told Theresa, and she took it badly, and then she magicked herself into his office this morning, and pushed him out the window, then clicked her fingers and scarpered, hoping to frame me in revenge. I'll bet she even left some other evidence in there so it would look like I was the killer.'\n\n'Oh?' Finn's left eyebrow lifted. 'Other evidence, you say? To frame you? Well, that's just awful. And… would you have any idea of what this other evidence might look like, Janine?'\n\nShe folded her arms. 'Of course not. How would I know? But I'm telling you, that's what must have happened. It was Theresa. It's the only explanation, because no one else would even dream of hurting Giles. Especially not me. I would never kill him. Why would I? He was the most wonderful man in the world, and we were going to be together forever.'\n\n[ Don't Derail the Gravy Train ]\n\nThere's little need for me to describe the physical appearance of the final worker to enter the break room; suffice to say she was much the same as the others. Her demeanour, though, was different. She seemed incredibly relaxed, and had somewhat of a spring to her step. My Aurameter told me she was a weredog, and that come full moon, she would take on the appearance of a cute little cairn terrier.\n\n'Lucy, isn't it?' Wanda smiled at the woman. 'You work in the Winter Wonderland. You're the one who saw Giles falling and alerted the others, is that right?'\n\nLucy took a seat and snorted. 'I'm surprised any of them told you that much.'\n\n'Really?' Finn stared at her. 'And why would that be?'\n\n'Oh, you know, because it's the way things are around here. A veil of secrecy over everything. And to think, when I first got the job here, I was over the moon.'\n\n'Everyone else seems to love working here,' Finn pointed out. 'Or, at the very least, they haven't said anything against it.'\n\nLucy snorted again. 'They don't like working here. Oh, maybe they did to begin with. Maybe, like me, they took this job because they were crazy about toys and about Christmas. But these days, all they care about is the bonuses they get for keeping their mouths shut. Although I don't know why they're still keeping quiet, to be honest. Giles can hardly pay us hush money now he's dead, can he?'\n\n'Hush money?' Wanda sat up straight. 'What was it Giles wanted you all to keep quiet about?'\n\n'Oh, you know, his general sleaziness. The fact that he was doing the dirty on his wife with as many younger women as he could.' She ran a hand through her hair. 'Look, it's not talked about. None of us say it out in the open. When I walked in on Giles and Siobhan in his office three months ago, I didn't gossip about it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(quick note: Required word frequency: 'tried' (2x))",
"loss": false
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "To anyone. Then, come next payday, I had a \"performance bonus\" in my pay packet. And I had to help out in payroll once, so I know that everyone gets something similar from time to time. As long as we don't talk about what a slimeball he is – or should I say, was – then we get rewarded. I got an even bigger bonus when he slapped my behind one day and I didn't report it to the head of his coven. You sort of… know how things are supposed to go, without anyone actually telling you, you know?'\n\n'Good goddess.' Finn looked sick. 'There are laws against that kind of thing, Lucy. And we do take reports seriously. I'm disgusted at what you've been through. The perpetrator might be dead, but we'll still help you to access a counsellor.'\n\n'Meh.' She shrugged. 'The truth is, I thought about reporting him at the time. But when I tried to broach it with the others – in a subtle way, of course – they all clammed up. Then over the next few hours I got some comments about not rocking the boat, not derailing the gravy train, that sort of stuff. So… I kept quiet.'\n\n'You mentioned someone called Siobhan,' Finn said, still looking sick and slightly pale. 'You said you caught them together in Giles's office. Siobhan is on a day off today. No one else seems to know why. Do you?'\n\n'I don't, actually.' Lucy replied. 'But I do know that Siobhan had a lot more than just a quick fumble with Giles. It was a full-on affair. I mean, I realise that poor, deluded Janine thought she was the only one. But Giles tried it on with everyone. And it became clear the longer I worked here that he had a certain type – a type that just happens to describe every single woman he hires.' She inched forward on her chair. 'Have you ever heard that rumour about the Tinsleys? About how there's a large part of the coven descended from elves?'\n\nWe all shook our heads, and Lucy continued. 'Well, it's just a rumour. But Giles, well… he likes to call his wife his little elf. He's not a Tinsley by blood, you know. Theresa is, though. And you can kind of see it when you look at her. She's short and cute and all that. But anyway, the point is, he has a thing for that sort of woman, and that's almost all he hired these days. Only women. I think the last guy he hired was…' She looked thoughtful. 'Yeah, it would have been Winston, I reckon.'\n\n'Winston?' Wanda questioned.\n\n'Winston Wolfe. He was an amazing toymaker, so he was. I mean, I thought Giles was good, but Winston was something else. But when Giles set his sights on Janine, Winston had to go.'\n\n'What did one thing have to do with the other?' questioned Finn.\n\n'Well, Winston was Janine's husband,' Lucy replied. 'Still is, officially – the divorce isn't finalised yet, although I think it's almost done. I told her she was an idiot, but for some unfathomable reason, she worshipped Giles.'\n\nLucy pulled at her short skirt. 'I kind of know the feeling. I worshipped him a bit, at first – because of what he does here. The workshop is so great, the Winter Wonderland is even better. But people can be two things, I guess. Amazing in one way, creepy as heck in another. Only Janine never seemed to see the creepy side of Giles.'\n\nWanda tapped her pen against her notepad. 'Lucy, did Janine and Siobhan know about each other?'\n\n'Well, Janine might not have known, but I'm pretty sure Siobhan was beginning to have an inkling.' She pulled at her skirt again. 'Look, I know it seems weird to you, but… Giles was good at making these idiots feel like they were the only woman in the world, and the rest of us… well, we knew better than to, like I said… derail the gravy train.'\n\nShe looked uncomfortable. 'I did try to hint at it, to both of them. Heck, I even gave strongly hinted warnings to make sure any new girls knew what he was like. But hinting was about all I ever dared to do, because I really did need this job. We all did. I have two kids, y'know. A lot of us have children. Even Janine – she has a little girl with Winston. Not that she lets him see her much anymore, but… yeah.'\n\n'What made you think Siobhan had an inkling that she wasn't the only one?' Finn asked, bringing things back on track.\n\nLucy shrugged. 'I bumped into her a couple of nights ago at the Bank. She was buying a bottle of fancy wine. She'd already had a couple of drinks, I reckon, because she was a bit tipsy. She said more to me in those few minutes than she'd said since we first met.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She told me Giles was working late and she was going to surprise him. And she winked when she said it, so… y'know, make of that what you will. Anyway, yesterday morning she had a face like thunder, and she didn't speak to anyone all day. But she did shoot a couple of dirty looks at Janine when Janine wasn't looking. And Janine, bless her, she seemed completely oblivious to it all. So I think Siobhan must have heard them through the door of Giles's office the night before or something. But it's just guesswork on my part. You'd have to ask Siobhan and Janine about it to get the proper story, and I doubt they'd actually want to tell you the sordid details, so…'\n\n'Right.' Finn nodded. 'You're very helpful, Lucy.'\n\nShe gave him a wry grin. 'Some might say suspiciously so, right? Look, Captain Plimpton, I know I'm going to sound like a terrible person when I tell you this, but when I saw Giles dead today, the first thing I felt was relief. I've been staying here in this weird as heck atmosphere even though I hate it, because… well, like I said, I need the job. And here's something else no one will have told you – even if you manage to leave here, Giles really doesn't ever let you go. Winston hasn't been able to get work since he was fired, even though he's incredibly talented. I think maybe Giles spread a rumour about him or something, because nothing else makes sense. And the same thing has happened to other people who walked out, or got fired. They don't get hired anywhere else. But now… now I don't have to worry about that, and I just… I feel like such a weight's been lifted. And the other women ought to feel relieved, too. I guess… it just hasn't caught up with them yet. But give them a couple of days to digest the fact that Giles is gone, and they'll soon start talking. Mark my words.'\n\nShe looked down at her skirt. 'And none of us will ever have to wear this stupid elf outfit again, which is the biggest plus of all. Oh, has anyone told you about the star? The one Giles went splat upon? Because that is a weird story.'\n\n'No,' Wanda admitted. 'We did ask why it was positioned where it was, but all we got was shrugs and \"I dunno\"s.'\n\n'Sounds about right.' Lucy smiled in a sad way. 'But I don't blame them for it – like I said, they will open up soon. It'll just take a little while. Anyway. The star. I was told that it usually had pride of place, on top of an enormous tree in the Winter Wonderland. Only it had gone rusty, you see, while it was in storage – there was a leak in the roof of the storage room, and it was sitting right under that leak for almost a year. So Giles declared it a lost cause and chucked it in a skip out back yesterday afternoon. When I saw it had been moved into the yard this morning I figured he must have changed his mind, decided to get the rust off and repaint it. But maybe not. I suppose it's vaguely possible that he was, I dunno, looking out at the star in the yard, wondering what the heck it was doing there, and then he fell. But it's not very likely, is it? He fell backwards by the looks of things, so I guess a more realistic explanation is that someone pushed him. Although I don't know who. I mean, Janine worshipped him, so she'd never hurt him, and Siobhan, as you already know, was on a day off.'\n\nShe held her hands out. 'But thankfully I'm not the one who'll have to figure it out.'\n\nFinn grunted. 'No. That's us, unfortunately. Listen, we'll let you go in a sec, Lucy, but one last question: what about Theresa Tinsley? Do you think she knew know about her husband's affairs?'\n\nLucy looked thoughtful, then said, 'Well, if she did, she certainly hid it well. It seemed to me that she had no idea about the way Giles was behind her back – he once tried to chat me up by telling me I looked after myself so much better than Theresa did, which is just so many kinds of wrong. For one thing, she looks amazing. And for another, I mean what kind of woman would be dumb enough not to know that if he's talking trash about his wife, he's not a good guy. One day, he'll be talking trash about you too, y'know? I've been cheated on. I know how it goes.'\n\nShe shook her head. 'Anyway. I'm going off on a tangent. But no. No, I really don't think she knew, because it looked to me like he was just as good at fooling his wife as he was at fooling the likes of Janine. To see Giles and Theresa together, well, you'd think they were love's young dream. Holding hands, kissing and cuddling. All that soppy stuff.'\n\n'She came here a lot, then?' asked Wanda.\n\n'Not regularly or anything. Theresa heads up all the charity work for the Tinsley coven, so she's always busy. But she comes to staff parties and stuff, and Giles has had us all over to the house for parties there, too. It baffled me, the way he could be so brazen. But I guess he knew no one was ever going to call him out on his behaviour.' Her expression darkened. 'Although… maybe somebody finally did.'\n\n[ A Meal Best Taken in Privacy ]\n\nI would have enjoyed spending some more time at Tinsleys', so that I could discover if any evidence was found in Giles's office, or in the rest of the building, but once Lucy's interview was finished, Hamish and I had to return to our own office to meet a client.\n\nI was surprised but happy that Hamish joined me, seeing as he'd been missing so much work recently.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(In the next section: Frequency requirement: 'isn't' - 2 occurrence(s))",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "As we took seats at our desks, I pulled a few items from my bag and hummed some Christmas tunes, grinning from ear to ear. Was it wrong of me to be in a much improved mood after witnessing the death of a Santa-suited man? I wasn't happy that he was dead, obviously. But for such a Christmassy murder to occur in July, well, surely it had to mean something.\n\nFoirfe had said I'd find the pillar in summer, in a house where it was always Christmas. Hamish might be poo-pooing the idea of Tinsley's Workshop and Winter Wonderland being such a place, but… maybe he was wrong?\n\n'I know what you're thinking, Katy.' Hamish gave me a no-nonsense glare. 'And you need to stop it. We've already talked about this. It isn't what you're hoping it is, and it's nonsense to think that it might be.'\n\n'What's she thinking?' asked Cleo, our roommate Ned's familiar. Cleo was an attractive-looking cat, with lush cream fur, lovely brown colouring on her face and ears, and bright blue eyes. Right now, she had somehow opened the door between us and Ned's shop, and was sitting in the gap licking a paw. Those bright blue eyes of hers were filled with disdain (one of her more frequent expressions) as she looked upon Hamish and me.\n\n'I mean, I agree,' the cat continued in a casual manner. 'Most of what Katy thinks is nonsense. But it's always fun to find out what particular brand of nonsense she's spouting on any given day.'\n\nIgnoring the cat, Hamish focused on me. 'I want to find this pillar more than you do, and I'm telling you, it's got nothing to do with Giles Tinsley's death. I can't afford to get my hopes up about this, and you know it. What's that you're doing there, anyway?'\n\n'You'll find out soon enough,' I said airily, concentrating on the material before me, and pulling out my wand. I'd used a retrieval spell to gather up what remained of Hamish's yellow hat from Sol's flat. Most of the material was in tatters, but my Aurameter had helped me to find one decent length that still had magic. Now, with some nifty crafting spells I'd learned at my wizarding college, I was hoping to do something useful with what remained.\n\nI was making decent progress when the phone on my desk began to ring. 'Katy Kramer, PI,' I said as I answered the call, carefully laying my project aside. 'How can I help you?'\n\nThe voice on the other end was a woman's voice, and a husky one at that. 'Miss Kramer, this is Miss Cahill speaking. I'm your two-thirty appointment,' she said. 'And I'm afraid that I'm calling to cancel. Unfortunately, my schedule has suddenly changed.'\n\nShe had spoken the word 'schedule' with a soft, seductive sounding c.\n\n'Oh, well maybe we could reschedule,' I suggested. 'You said you wanted us to follow your boyfriend, isn't that right? We could get going without a face-to-face meeting, if you like. You could email us some details, like a photograph maybe, and where you think–'\n\n'I'm sorry,' she interrupted. 'But I won't be needing your services, Miss Kramer.' With that, she ended the call.\n\n'Oh.' I replaced the handset and looked at Hamish. 'I guess we don't have a meeting with a new client after all. And I've just realised how hungry I am. Those interviews over at Tinsleys' took forever. Want to have a late lunch at the Bank?'\n\n'Em, no. No, I don't think so. I think I'll eat something healthier.'\n\n'They have healthy things,' I argued, focusing on my work again. I was actually making something useful here. Take that, fourth year schoolteacher who said I couldn't sew to save my life. Turned out, when I was motivated (and in possession of a sewing spell and a magical wand, cough, cough) then I could turn my hand to anything.\n\nHamish hopped down from his chair, looking irritable. 'Katy, at the moment, the healthiest thing I can eat is…' He winced, then lowered his voice. '… dog food. As in the stuff that comes out of a tin. It's what Healer Little advised. If I eat that in the Bank, people will make fun of me.'\n\n'No one will make fun of you,' I assured him.\n\nCleo stopped licking her paw. 'Not if they know what's good for them, anyway. If anyone so much as sends a funny look in your direction, I'll scratch their eyes out.'\n\nHe gawped at the cat in surprise. From time to time they got along, but she normally took advantage of any opportunity to tease him. Sometimes, though, she proved that she had a heart.\n\n'Well, that's really nice of you, Cleo,' he said. 'But this is my first attempt at eating that foul stuff, and I think it's a meal best taken in privacy. You lot can go and have a late lunch together, and I'll take off on my own.'\n\nHe did one of the odd little jiggles and wiggles he needed to do in order to draw the magic from his hat, but nothing happened. 'Crap!' He groaned. 'I'd gotten so used to the extra power of my yellow hat.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I could even do travelling spells with it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Not too often, but I could certainly rustle one up when I wanted to escape one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, which this definitely is.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He sighed. 'Ah well.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I guess I'll just slope off while you all pretend that you're not going to talk about my new eating habits the second I'm gone.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'Wait.' I hopped up and waved my project in the air.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Maybe this will help.'\n\nHamish frowned. 'A ribbon? You were making me a yellow ribbon? What am I supposed to do with that? Tie it around an old oak tree?'\n\n'Nope.' I grinned, approaching him and fastening the yellow band around his red hat, finally securing it with something else I'd retrieved from Sol's flat: the buckle from the yellow hat. 'Just because the material exploded doesn't mean it's completely useless.'\n\nHe blinked. 'You… you made this from my yellow hat?'\n\n'Let's not make a big deal out of it.' I stood up and nodded down at him. 'Well? Give it a go.'\n\nHe rested his head against my leg for a moment, sighed and said, 'Thank you, Katy. Once again, I'm sorry for being such a grumpy old sod,' before trying, once more, to channel enough magic to make a quick exit.\n\nOn the third of his jiggles, the hat's buckle lit up, and he disappeared from my view while I waved him off and said, 'See? That wasn't a remotely embarrassing exit.'\n\nCleo sniggered. 'Are you kidding? He made himself look like a right eejit, insulting you when you were doing something nice for him. Frankly, I don't know why we stay friends with him.'\n\nI tilted my head to the side and smirked at her. 'And yet you are his friend, and you know it, and you would have done exactly the same for him. Let's just give him a break from now on, all right? Let him be grumpy if that's what he needs to do to get through this. We'd all be a bit moody if we were stuck in the wrong body.'\n\nShe snorted. 'Especially if that body was a dog's. Anyhoo, I'm hungry. Let's go grab my witch and get me fed, shall we?'\n\nNed poked a head around the door. 'Cleo, have you forgotten that you and I already had lunch?'\n\nThe cat gave an innocent shrug. 'Well, no one could blame me for forgetting such a small meal. Let's go to the Bank, Ned. Roast chicken is today's special.'\n\n'I know. Because we already had it. Come on, Cleo. You and me need to go and see a man about a ghost.'\n\n'A ghost?' I questioned. 'But… I thought you didn't do ghosts any more.' A while ago, she'd changed the name of her shop. Instead of Ned's Necromancy, her sign now read: Ned Marvin, Maker and Supplier of Healing Wands. Below that there were some other words, in much smaller lettering, which stated: We Also Sell Necromancy Supplies.\n\nShe'd never been an actual necromancer – from what I'd learned, the most that any of those weirdos had achieved was making a skeleton dance – but for years she sold the necessary supplies. Even though plenty of would-be dead-raisers came to her shop, Ned often found a gentle way to convince most of them that maybe all they actually wanted was a conversation with their deceased loved ones. And Ned was brilliant at facilitating those conversations, because she could literally talk to the dead. But despite her gift, I knew she much preferred spending her time creating healing wands.\n\nNed sighed. 'I'm trying my best not to do too much of the talking to the dead stuff, but it's hard to tell the ghosts to flip off when they've got unfinished business. This latest one is a very sweet woman. She just wants me to tell her husband that she left a letter for him but it fell behind a cabinet so… I can't not help her, can I? Come on, Cleo, let's get going.'\n\nAs the cat trotted back through the dividing door and into the shop with Ned, I folded my arms, thinking things over. Cullen would be too busy serving the last of this lunchtime's customers and then cleaning up after them, so he could hardly sit down and have a meal with me. But I absolutely had to talk this over with someone. Someone who would agree with me – that the dead Santa impaled upon the Christmas star was the best news we'd had in a while.\n\n'I know,' I said to the empty room. 'I'll go see Jay.'\n\n[ A Brewing Bromance ]\n\nI felt the joys of a Christmassy summer as I walked out through the Other Door at my office. I might not have liked Ned's ex-boyfriend, the Púca known as Guillermo Moriarty, but the portal door he'd left here had made my life much easier. With it, I could travel from one side of the city to the other without the use of magic, or, y'know, walking for too long.\n\nI practically skipped out onto Eile Street and made my way to Bake My Cake (don't you just love it when people do the hard work for you?) bought some savoury pies for lunch, and some chocolate eclairs for dessert. I was skipping my way back up the street again, when a swirl of white began to fall upon my head.\n\nI held out my arms, grinning as the white stuff began to swirl around me. It was snow. In July. Now that was the kind of weather that could mean something. Except… why wasn't it cold and wet?\n\n'Sorry!' a voice called down from an upstairs window of Eile Street Orphanage. 'The fan in here got a little over enthusiastic and blew a whole load of packing beads out the window.'\n\n'Ah.' I looked up at the Wayfarer healer, Shane Moore. He spent as much time as he could volunteering at the orphanage. 'That makes sense. I thought it was snow for a minute.'\n\n'Nah. We've had a lot of donations, and we're unpacking the stuff now. Wouldn't it be nuts if it was snow, though? In July?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'It'd be awesome, actually.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 12 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hey, shouldn't you be elbows deep in a corpse round about now?'\n\nHe shuddered. 'You have such a lovely way of expressing yourself. That's all finished. I'm on a lunch break, so I came to spend it here. We just had some new bits and bobs delivered to this place, and I'm going to put the old stuff in the basement. I could really do with a sugar rush though, to keep me going. I might head to Bake My Cake and grab myself a chocolate éclair.'\n\n'Ah.' I gave him a guilty smile. I'd bought the last two, and it seemed like Shane deserved them more than me. I held up the bag. 'How about two, on me?'\n\nHe grinned. 'Are you serious? That'd be amazing, Katy, thank you so much.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "writing buddy needed! forty-six sentences more in A. A. Albright's voice. contemporary genre. this is from a bigger story btw",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When I reached Times of Yore, I laid the pies out on some plates. Jay, who told me he hadn't eaten lunch yet, looked with glee at the food. 'Bake My Cake steak and onion pies? You know me so well.'\n\n'Well, I knew you'd like the meatiest thing on the menu,' I told him, not mentioning that just a few minutes earlier there had also been another favourite food of his: éclairs. There was no need to tell him of such a devastating, guilt-induced loss. Instead, I carefully laid a blanket over the chair I was about to sit on. Jay liked to keep the items in his antique shop far too dusty for my liking, and I was not in the mood for a coughing fit.\n\n'I'm glad you came for lunch, actually,' he said. 'I thought I'd have to wait until our afternoon tea together to find out the latest on the pillar search. I take it you and Cullen got nothing from that last trip you went on?'\n\nI sighed. 'Nope. Even though we've visited dozens of so-called psychics the world over, no one seems to know a thing about a house where it's always Christmas, or about the whereabouts of another pillar. The jaunts we've been taking have made me wish that I'd known about magic all my life, though. Between Cullen's flying motorcycle and the ability to teleport ourselves to anywhere on the planet, it's really taken the irritation out of travelling. I can visit lots more places now that I don't have to worry about puking on planes. Those air stewards do not look happy when you block the toilet.'\n\n'How is it that you could get travel sick on an airplane but not a flying bike?'\n\nI held my hands out. 'Such are the mysteries of the universe. So how did you get on with your contact? You know, the one who has an in with the man in the North Pole?' I did my best to look neutral as I asked that last question.\n\nHe laughed. 'You're trying so hard to look like you're not interested in the answer, Katy. But yeah, my contact got in touch with the North Pole on my behalf. I received an incredibly polite letter in return, telling me that Santa was too busy for visitors right now. It went on to say that although they prepare for Christmas all year round, this house you were told about, where it's always Christmas, has nothing to do with the North Pole. And there's definitely no Pillar of Permanence there, as far as Santa and his elves are aware.'\n\n'Oh.' I felt myself deflate just a little. When I asked Jay to reach out to the North Pole, I'd been joking. But when he told me that he actually did have a way of getting in touch, all my childhood fantasies of meeting Santa had returned. Even if there was no pillar there, I'd hoped that we might get to pay a visit anyway. And if I did meet the man in red, I wouldn't have been too critical of the fact that he'd brought me the wrong board game when I was ten. 'Well, thanks for trying.'\n\n'I'm sorry there's not better news. But at least you've learned how pleasant international travel can be when you're getting about via magic. I sometimes wish it was like the old days, when humans weren't so freaked out by the supernatural. Back then, witches would often help humans get around. Now, they're stuck on cramped airplane seats breathing in recirculated air. And puking in airplane toilets if they get travel sick, like you. Human lives would be so much nicer if only they'd stayed friends with us.'\n\nI shook my head in amazement. 'Sometimes you say things that remind me you're over two thousand years old.'\n\n'Yeah, well, it was a slip-up even admitting that much. So let's not talk about how ancient I am. Let's talk about you instead.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Besides globetrotting adventures to try and find a pillar for Hamish, how are things since you and Cullen finally admitted you were nuts about each other and became a couple?'\n\nI concentrated on eating my steak and onion pie. 'Jay, it feels weird talking about this. I mean, you and me were together for a while. Sure, you were only drawn to me because you were destined to protect the hunter and I was drawn to you because, well… you're good-looking. But still. It's almost as bad as when I remember that you once had a thing with my aunt.'\n\nI paused to take a very long shudder. 'Why did I just make myself remember that? Hey, why don't we talk about you and Ned, instead? When are the two of you going to finally lock lips?'\n\nIt was always fun to make a vampire blush. 'Okay, I see your point,' he said. 'Let's talk about anything else. You really found nothing on all of those trips you took?'\n\n'Way to make a girl feel good about her achievements. Sure, my visits to seers around the world were little more than a delightful way to waste my time, but I think I might be getting close to finding that pillar, actually. Only… it could be a lot closer to home.'\n\nWith my plate balanced on my lap, I leaned forward in my seat, and told him about my morning.\n\n'My stars, Katy!' he gasped when I'd finished. 'There has to be some sort of connection, right? I mean, I get why Hamish would be afraid to get his hopes up, but… it's too much of a coincidence to be nothing, don't you think?'\n\n'I do think.' I grinned, happy that someone was finally agreeing with me. 'Hey, is that your psychic doorbell?'\n\nI glanced at the locked door of the shop. Whenever Jay closed the shop to take a break, customers often rang his doorbell to gain entry, and, well… because he was a vampire, his doorbell was one of those psychic doorbells which his kind loved so much. When a person rang that bell, it might play their favourite song, or a song that represented their current train of thought. Sometimes when I rang it, it was scarily prescient. At other times, it simply played whatever happened to be the latest pop song I couldn't get out of my mind.\n\nRight now, it was playing I Dig the Girl by a weredog band called That Stick Is Mine!\n\n'Is that Cullen?' I asked as Jay hopped up.\n\n'I'm ready to kill some zombies if you are, Jay,' my boyfriend announced as Jay pulled open the door. 'The Bank was packed to the rafters at lunch, and I could do with de-stressing. I–' He broke off as he rushed inside and saw me sitting there. 'Hey there, beautiful.' Cullen gave me a huge hug. 'I was hoping you might pop by after you were finished following Hamish, but I guess you were here instead. How come you are, though? Afternoon tea isn't for a while yet.'\n\n'Well, at least you know about my afternoon tea with Jay.' I gave him a mock-stern stare. 'I had no idea you two had playdates together. Is a bromance brewing?'\n\n'Oh, it's long brewed,' said Cullen, planting a kiss on my head. 'Actually, it hasn't really. We played together about a month ago, remember, while you and Ned were getting ready for dinner? I just popped by on the off chance today. But now that you mention it…' He batted his lashes at Jay.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'What do you say?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 17 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wanna be my bestest bro?'\n\nJay sighed and clutched his chest. 'Why Cullen, I thought you'd never ask.'\n\n'Well, I've finished eating,' I told him with a wistful look at my empty plate. 'So maybe I'll leave you to it.' I gave him a quick kiss in return and stood up. 'Wouldn't want to get in the way of some good old-fashioned boy bonding, would I?'\n\n'Aw, you wouldn't be in the way,' Jay told me (he didn't sound very convincing). 'You should stay, honestly.'\n\nWhile he was talking, the shop's psychic doorbell rang once more. This time, the tune was Wolf on the Run by the Call of the Wild.\n\n'I really like that song,' Cullen mused. 'Maybe we should make whoever it is wait a bit longer.'\n\nJay chuckled and headed back to the door. 'I like the song, too, but I can see him through the glass panel, and it looks like he's got a box of antiques to sell. Plus, seeing as we can see him, it's safe to say he can see us, too. Don't worry – we'll be slaying zombies before you know it.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Narrative Extension Protocol:\nQuantity: four sentences\nContext: Match character familiarity\nGenre: contemporary",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As soon as Jay unlocked the door, the man rushed in and placed his box on the shop counter. It jangled as he set it down, and it was overflowing with candelabras, clocks, and various other expensive-looking ornaments. He was tall and thin, with stubble, and tired-looking, darting eyes. His foot tapped against the floor as he waited for Jay to reach the counter and assess the items.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His twitchiness reminded me of Sol.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All that was missing was the bright trousers and the gum.\n\nI didn't need to use my Aurameter to tell me he was a werewolf. By now, I knew all about the strange brand of attractiveness their kind exuded, and despite the fact that this guy seemed a little desperate, he was definitely attractive.\n\n'How much'll you give me for this lot?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I need to sell quick.'\n\n'Hang on a minute now,' said Jay. 'I haven't even looked at any of it. Tell me about what you have here.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And your name, too – that'd be a start.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'It's not nicked!' the man cried.\n\n'Mm hm.' Jay arched an eyebrow. 'That's not a suspicious statement at all.'\n\n'Look, look at it.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He pulled out a candle holder.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'This is worth at least ten gold rounds.' There were slots for three candles on the ornament, each one sculpted into three different women's heads. I got the impression they were intended to be different manifestations of the triple-form goddess. Witches loved ornaments like that.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'See the signature on the bottom?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "the man continued. 'That witch only made one of everything.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You'll get a lot for it.'\n\nJay grunted noncommittally. He was looking with interest at another silver ornament. It was a spherical or maybe oval-shaped ornament on tiny, delicate legs. It was in need of a clean, and it looked as though it opened up.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'One of the legs is missing,' Jay pointed out.\n\n'Well, okay. So maybe this damson is in distress, but it's still worth a few quid, and everything else is perfect.'\n\n'Damson?' Jay frowned.\n\nThe seller shrugged. 'Doesn't it look like a damson to you?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'Nah, I reckon it's a plum,' Cullen suggested.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Is there a difference?' the seller questioned, turning back to Jay. 'Look, whatever it is, I'll give it to you for a song. Matter of fact, I'll let you have the whole lot for five gold rounds.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'You've just stated that the candle holder alone is worth much more than that.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And honestly, if you'd let me take a bit longer to look at it all and give it a proper appraisal, I might agree with you.'\n\n'No! I need the money now. Four gold rounds. Final offer.'\n\nJay frowned again. 'I'll give you six if you give me all of your details.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Name, address, and so on.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And before you say it, that's not me accusing you of being a thief.' He lowered his voice. 'You mentioned gold rounds, even though my shop is firmly in the human world. Which means you're supernatural?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man blinked. 'I… yeah. Werewolf. Look, honestly, it's not stolen. I just cleared out my granny's attic.'\n\n'I only mention it because, seeing as you are supernatural, you'll know that there's a risk attached to antiques.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Wayfarers expect me to keep careful records in case I wind up with a dangerous magical object in my shop.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "OOC, You must use the word 'right' exactly 2 times in your response",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here.' Jay pulled a paper form and a pen from beneath the counter. 'I just need you to fill in your details for traceability, and then I can give you your money, all right?'\n\n'Okay.' The man nodded nervously. 'Whatever.'\n\n'All right, then.' Jay nodded and took a few coins from somewhere beneath the counter, before passing the form across to the man.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I watched him scribble quickly, grab the money, and then rush out of the shop.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'You know he's just written down fake details, right?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen commented as the door slammed shut behind the seller.\n\n'I do,' Jay replied, pulling out his mobile phone. 'And I'm texting Captain Plimpton right now, because this stuff is so very obviously stolen. The money I gave him was money the Wayfarers gave me for this very purpose.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "[OOC: Your task: Include 'address' 2 time(s) in your response]",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Each coin contains a magical tracker.'\n\nCullen whistled. 'Impressive.'\n\nJay shrugged. 'There's more. Making him write a fake address made him think of his real address.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He lives in your lovely enclave, guys.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Well… lives is putting it strongly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 5 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He's been squatting in an attic somewhere on Desperation Row. And um… Katy, could you remind me again of the name of the man whose wife was having an affair with Giles Tinsley? The man who Giles fired, and who couldn't get work anywhere else?'\n\n'Em, I think Lucy said that Winston was the name of Janine's soon-to-be ex-husband,' I said. 'Winston Wolfe. Why?'\n\n'Because when I read that werewolf's mind, Winston Wolfe was his real name.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "ur a writing helper. partner writes, u do next 80 sentences. might have existing chars/stuff - roll with it",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As I led Cullen into the flat I shared with Ned, Hamish and Cleo, he grumbled.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'You don't have to gently take me by the arm, Katy.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Shane already gave me the once-over and said there's nothing wrong with me. I'm not an invalid.'\n\n'I know. But I like looking after you. Come on. Stay here with me and I'll make you a nice cup of tea and some dinner. It's supposed to be your night off, anyway.'\n\n'Well, yeah, but…'\n\n'No buts. I– Oh.' I smiled in surprise at the sight of Great-Aunt Jude, sitting on the sofa with Cleo on her lap.\n\n'Katy.' Jude smiled at me. 'I'd love to tell you I'm just popping in to say hello, but… well, maybe you'd better get Cullen settled first. Then we'll have a cup of tea and a chat.'\n\nShe stood up and moved to an armchair, leaving room for Cullen to stretch out and relax on the couch. Not that he did relax. As soon as I laid him out he sat up, folding his arms and insisting he was fine.\n\nCleo had made a small meow of complaint when Jude first moved chairs, but she was on her lap once again, purring as my great-aunt stroked her.\n\nNed arrived home just as I was laying tea and biscuits out on the table. When I'd returned with an extra cup for Ned and some milk for Cleo, Great-Aunt Jude picked up her tea, took a sip and said, 'All right, I'll just come out with it. I've been feeling funny today, Katy. Sort of… Christmassy. No one else seems to feel it, so I thought I'd better check with you in case it's a hunter thing.'\n\nI stared at her. 'Well, yes. Yes I have been feeling like it's Christmas even though it's July. But… I don't know if it's a hunter thing. I was kind of hoping it might have something to do with this Pillar of Permanence Hamish needs. Although Hamish would disagree with even that, and tell you that the only reason I'm feeling Christmassy is because my day started off with a dead man in a Santa suit.' I quickly told her everything that happened.\n\nWhen I finished the tale, Aunt Jude quietly nibbled at a biscuit for a moment, before saying, 'Now I'm sure this is a hunter thing, Katy – the way I'm feeling, I mean. Because the whole time you were talking, I had tingles everywhere.'\n\n'Huh.' Cullen gave her an uneasy nod. 'Katy gets tingles when something big is in the air. We need to find out where Winston Wolfe got that musical plum. I'm not sure how – or even if – anything that happened with Giles Tinsley's murder is connected. But the plum… that tune… maybe it could lead us to something. Finn's already traced the ugly candle holder to a house on Easterly Crescent. Maybe the plum came from there, too.'\n\n'I'm not sure about that, actually,' Ned said. 'I was with a man called Pat Barnes this afternoon, giving him a message from his dead wife's ghost. He still lives in the house they shared, near Knot Corner. He was delighted to read her letter. Oh, you should have seen how happy it made him. But… I'm getting off track. When I was about to leave, Pat told me \"I've been thinking about ghosts a lot lately, actually, ever since I met that strange, strange man running through the park the other night.\" So obviously I asked him \"What strange man?\" And he told me he hasn't been sleeping since his wife's death, so he often takes walks through the Hanging Green at night time to visit the spot where they first kissed. When he was there the night before last, a man had crashed into him, and the man was carrying a little silver plum.'\n\n'Ah.' I nodded. 'He must have met Winston on his way back from a night of thievery. So that means that the plum might have been stolen from somewhere in this enclave, maybe somewhere near the Hanging Green.'\n\n'That's what I was thinking,' Ned agreed. 'But there's more. This man seemed terrified, Pat said. He said he mumbled something about a ghost singing Silent Night.'\n\nCullen frowned. 'Are you sure he didn't say that the plum was playing the tune?'\n\n'Nope.' Ned sounded certain. 'He said it was a ghost, and he said it had creeped him out because he'd always hated that song, and then he ran off leaving Pat scratching his head in wonder, and that was the end of that.'\n\nJude frowned. 'The more I hear about this, the more my skin begins to tingle. I'd like to see this musical plum. I think we should pay the Wayfarer captain a visit.'\n\n'Good luck with that.' Cleo looked up from her milk. 'Finn is a grumpy old sod, always jacked up on coffee and ready to grumble.'\n\n'He's not that bad,' I said. 'I mean yes, he's sometimes grumpy, but being a Wayfarer would make anyone grumpy. He spends his life dealing with murders. And budgets, too. He's always complaining about those budgets. I like Finn. Well… I don't dislike him. I'll give him a call.'\n\nOn My Broom I Shall Soar…\n\nFinn did grumble while we spoke on the phone, but after a few minutes he agreed to let us see the musical plum. Ned and Cleo stayed at home to wait for Hamish – he'd still not returned since he left at lunchtime, according to Ned – while Jude, Cullen and I made our way to the Wayfarer Station.\n\nWhen we entered Finn's office, he was seated behind his desk, drinking something that wasn't coffee and eating a salad.\n\nWith a miserable groan, he looked at us. 'Hey guys. Hello, Jude. I'll be finished my dinner in a minute.'\n\n'What is that?' I asked, looking into the liquid. 'That's not coffee. You always drink coffee. And you never eat salad.'\n\n'I've eaten salad before. Usually as a garnish, but I've eaten it. As for this horrific excuse for a drink…' He shuddered. 'Apparently it's green tea. My girlfriend brought it in for me a few minutes ago.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I am not a fan. I agreed that today is the day I finally give up coffee, but now I'm not so sure. I'll have the shakes without caffeine.'\n\n'There's caffeine in green tea,' Jude informed him.\n\n'Is there?' Finn didn't look convinced. He pushed his salad away. 'Anyway, we've had some experts look at everything in that box. The stuff's all been stolen from different places, but it has all been stolen, and traced back to owners already. Well, except the musical plum. We have no idea where that came from.'\n\n'We might be able to narrow it down, just a bit,' I said, before filling him in on what Ned had told us.\n\n'Ah. Well, it gives us somewhere else to search, I suppose. But it'd be much better if we could just find Winston and ask him. We've found his squat, as it happens, but he's not there right now. The attic where he's been staying does, however, lead through to the attic above Giles's office, so he could have gotten in and out of the murder scene that way. Jude, I think I can trust you to keep quiet about what I'm telling Katy and Cullen about this case, right?'\n\nWhile Jude nodded, Cullen shook his head. 'Cullen does not want to know about Wayfarer business,' said Cullen. He didn't usually speak about himself in the third person, but he had strong feelings about not working for Finn anymore, so I suppose I could excuse it, just this once.\n\n'Aw, come on,' Finn cajoled. 'I paid you a really big bonus for that train business.'\n\n'Yeah, after me, Katy, Hamish and plenty of others almost died. Plus, I know you. It'll only be a matter of time before you ask me to infiltrate the Warlock Society again, and being undercover there just made me feel dirty. Just leave me out of all of this, please. I'll obviously help Katy if you happen to put her in danger again on another poorly-planned operation, but that's it. Running the Bank is a full-time job.'\n\n'Well then I guess you'd better leave while I fill Katy and Jude in on exactly why we think Winston Wolfe killed Giles Tinsley. All of the gory details.'\n\nCullen coughed slightly. 'Well… I mean, I am already sitting down.'\n\n'Sure.' Finn smirked with satisfaction. 'Well, first I should tell you guys that Winston Wolfe's surname is spelled with an \"e\". Other than that, it's a pretty on the nose name, don't you think? Apparently his ancestors came over here as wolf hunters, back in the seventeenth century when Ireland was still riddled with wolves, but one of them mistook a werewolf for your standard wolf and got turned and they've been a family of wolves ever since. Funny, right?'\n\n'The murder, Finn?' Cullen pressed. 'Other than the fact that Winston is a thief whose wife left him so she could have an affair with Giles, what actual evidence do you have that he's the one behind it? I mean, it could just as easily have been any of the other million people who hated him.'\n\n'Said the man who isn't interested.' Finn treated Cullen to yet another satisfied smirk. 'Well, first of all, we checked out what Lucy told us today, and it's true. Giles fired Winston and then spread rumours about him to every employer in the enclave. It was a nasty thing to do, and when you add that to all the other ways Giles ruined Winston's life, well… you can see why he'd be angry. But there is also a lot of actual evidence, as a matter of fact. Winston's aura is all over Giles's office. And that snow globe he tried to sell to Jay in among all the other crap? Well, a photo of Giles in his office shows that very same snow globe was actually a desk ornament of Giles's. We confirmed it with a couple of the workers – it was on Giles's desk up to at least a few days ago. Suspicious, right? And if all of that isn't damning enough, well… there's also this.'\n\nHe opened his drawer and took out a small, beautifully-carved toy, depicting a half-transformed werewolf child who was riding a broom to the moon. 'It can fly and everything,' said Finn. 'It's got Winston Wolfe's mark on the bottom – a W. Wolfe signature he used on all of the toys he designed and made himself, according to his wife. She says Winston tried to give this to her for Megan, but she refused the gift, telling him that she'd take it and give it to the girl once Winston started paying maintenance.'\n\n'Ouch,' I said. 'How was he supposed to do that if Giles had badmouthed him to all and sundry?'\n\n'I'm not sure Janine knows about that,' Finn told us. 'She's still talking as if Giles was some kind of saint. And look what happens if I press this button.' He flipped over the toy and pressed a button, and a little girl's voice said: 'On my broom I shall soar to the moon. I'm a wolf, I shall roar on the moon. Ow, ow, owwwww!'\n\n'Oh my goodness, that's adorable.' Jude smiled at the toy. 'I take it the little girl Winston and Janine have together is a werewolf, then? How unusual. The witch gene normally wins out, doesn't it?'\n\n'It does, normally,' Finn agreed. 'But in this case, Megan took after her father. It really is an adorable toy, but unfortunately we found it in Giles's office, and Janine has no idea how it got there. So we now have two ways to place Winston at the murder scene. Plus, this toy seems to have been used to smack Giles on the side of the face just before he died. There's corresponding marking on Giles's face, and traces of his skin were found on the toy, which means he received quite the smack. Oh, and Winston Wolfe's prints are the only prints on the toy. His prints are on Giles's desk, too.'\n\nI looked at the toy, trying to reconcile the facts: could a man who could make something so lovely for his daughter really be a murderer? Then again, losing your wife to Giles, and then having your contact with your daughter cut off could certainly drive a person over the edge.\n\n'Wow,' I said sadly. 'That's a lot of evidence, especially when you consider he could have sneaked in and out of Giles's office via the attic. I guess… I guess he's our guy, so.'\n\n'Kind of tragic, isn't it?' Cullen remarked. 'I feel sorry for Winston in all of this, murderer or not. Cheated on, dumped, then not allowed to see his daughter unless he got some money together? Which was obviously made all the harder by Giles. I hate to victim blame, but if Giles hadn't been such a sleaze, maybe none of this would have happened.'",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "'Seems that way,' said Finn.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'If it hadn't been Winston, maybe it wouldn't have been long before someone else tried to teach Giles a lesson. His wife, Janine, or maybe this Siobhan who he was also having an affair with. But… it seems certain it was Winston, and all we have left to do is arrest him. So I guess we should move onto talking about other things. Like the fact that we might not have one musical plum, but two. And that you, Cullen, seem to have an undeniable connection to both.'",
"loss": true
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "hey can u write 57 sentences more sentences? keep same character vibes in contemporary style",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word count directive: Use 'wasn't' exactly 3 times",
"loss": null
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen had once told Finn that the 'old lady' glamour Finn sometimes used as a disguise reminded him of the matron from the orphanage where he'd grown up; now I could see why. Esme's hair was the exact same shade of grey, and the stooped manner in which she walked was almost identical to Finn's 'old lady' walk. She even rubbed her back in much the way the Wayfarer captain did.\n\nCullen gave her a look of pure hatred. In return, Esme's eyes glinted with triumph. 'You're still the same ungrateful little brat I once knew, I see,' she said as she took a seat on the captain's couch. 'I never did understand what you had against me, Cullen. I looked after you, so I did. Same as I looked after hundreds of little kiddies.'\n\nCullen's lip curled. 'Looked after isn't quite the way I would put it.'\n\nEsme sniffed. 'Well, you were a bold boy, Cullen. A very bold boy. Always crying. Always complaining you were hungry or cold.'\n\n'I was always hungry and cold!' Cullen retorted. 'I learned to do a warming spell when I was five because you never turned the bloody heating on!'\n\nShane winced. 'Yeah, see, the orphanage wasn't always as well-funded as it is today. It also wasn't as… well, let's say warm and welcoming as it is now. We have a different way of doing things these days.'\n\n'Oh yeah?' Cullen's arms were crossed, and his jaw was tight. 'Well, I'm glad for the kids who are there now, I guess, but I just wish it had come a bit sooner. Look, can we just get on with this? For starters, maybe we could ask Esme why she never gave me that musical plum.'\n\nEsme opened her mouth, but Shane was the one who answered, saying, 'Actually, it's more than just that.' He heaved the box he'd brought into the room back onto Finn's desk. There was also a small, water-damaged teddy bear and a grubby-looking baby's bib, with a sprig of holly embroidered on the fabric. Beneath the holly, it said: Cuileann.\n\n'Cuileann? That's the Irish word for holly.' Cullen frowned. 'Was I… was I wearing that when I arrived?'\n\nEsme nodded. 'You were. A little red and green romper suit, too, but that's long gone. You were clutching onto the teddy with one hand and that silver music box with the other.' She shivered. 'Silent Night was playing on it. Can't stand that song so I can't. Awful, maudlin human music. Anyway, we didn't know your name, but given what it said on your bib and the Property of C. Keats on the bottom of that stupid plum, I made up your name from that.'\n\n'Except you didn't, did you? According to my bib, my name was the proper Irish version of the word for holly. I was called Cuileann, and yet you named me Cullen. Why?'\n\nEsme shrugged. 'Easier to pronounce Cullen than Cuileann, isn't it?'\n\n'But all these years, you told me my name was just a random one given to me by you. It clearly wasn't. Cullen Keats – or Cuileann Keats – that might actually be my real name. The one my parents gave me.'\n\nShe shook her head, looking thoroughly flummoxed by his reaction. 'What's the big deal, lad? It's just a name.'\n\nWhile Cullen struggled for words, I squeezed his hand. I'd been lucky, I realised. Sure, my dad left when I was a kid, but I'd had my mother to look after me, and my uncle. I knew who I was. Where I came from. And even though Cullen didn't talk about it much, it had always been clear to me that he yearned to know more about his beginnings.\n\n'I came to see you in your office a while after I left the orphanage,' Cullen said, glaring at Esme. 'When I was eighteen, remember? The law said that once I was of age, and if my parents were either dead, unknown, or made no objection, then you were supposed to tell me any information you had about me. But you refused to tell me a thing. So why do you now, all of a sudden, have something to say?'\n\nShe stabbed a finger in Shane's direction.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "'This so-called healer was accusing me of hiding your things from you!",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I felt I ought to come and give my side.'",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'And what is your side?' Finn asked. 'It seems to me that if Cullen arrived with these items, you ought to have given them to him at some stage. The bear and the musical plum could have given him some comfort. The bib would have told him his real first name.'\n\nWith a lift of her chin, Esme said, 'Well I'll tell you exactly why I didn't give them things to him. It was because he was too bold to deserve them. Bold as brass, that one. No wonder his mother dumped him on my doorstep. Sure, for all we know, she tried to do him in before she got rid of him. Could be how he got that scar, couldn't it?'\n\n'Whoa, Esme. Too dark.' I shook my head.\n\nCullen glared at the matron. 'Esme, why are you saying \"Could be how he got that scar, couldn't it\"? Because when I was a kid, you told me you knew what caused my scar. You said my scar was given to me by a witch hunter. You would never tell me anymore than that, but you swore to the goddess that it was true.'\n\nMy eyes met Cullen's, and a look of guilt washed over him. He didn't need to feel guilty. He'd never told me the story of the scar that ran from beneath his left eye and ended at his upper lip. But I'd looked at it through my Aurameter. I knew that there was hunter magic on that scar. And I'd been sure Cullen knew it, too – I'd always believed that there was some back story, something he was afraid to tell me, about another hunter. The hunter who hurt him, and left the evidence behind on his face.\n\nNow it was clear that, all of these years, he had believed it was a hunter who hurt him. But not because he had some harrowing memory of the event. He knew nothing about the origins of his scar, except what the old matron had told him.\n\nEarlier today, Jay had asked me how my relationship with Cullen was going, and I'd been reluctant to reply. The truth was that, so far, it was going so well that I couldn't quite believe it. I'd been wary of him for so long. Sure, when we met he was merely pretending to be a sexist pig so that he could infiltrate the Warlock Society on behalf of the Wayfarers. But there was a time in his life when he'd been an actual warlock, when he'd believed that men were superior, and that female witches ought to take second place in the magical world.\n\nThe idea of ever entering a relationship with him – or even admitting I had feelings for him – had been terrifying. But getting to know Cullen had taught me that even a sexist leopard can change its spots.\n\nOnce, I'd believed that people were either good or bad – and maybe some people were – but most people had their attitudes and actions shaped and steered by their childhood, and by the things that happened to them along the way. Somewhere along the course of Cullen's childhood he'd stopped hoping that his mother would someday come to claim him. Instead, he'd decided to blame her, to hate her, for abandoning him.\n\nHe'd been moulded by Esme, and by the warlocks and criminals he met along the way – people who probably had their own bitter beginnings and shattered dreams. But somehow, he'd pushed through all of that, and he'd become a man I was grateful to know.\n\nEvery day he surprised me in the loveliest ways. The Cullen I'd come to know wasn't cocky, or sexist. He was nothing like I'd feared he'd be. There were no arguments, no power struggles, just… ease. I was so glad that I'd decided to look past the fact that he was once a warlock. And I was equally glad that he'd decided to look past the fact that it could have been one of my kind who almost killed him, and possibly more.\n\nNow, maybe we would find out the truth about how he came to have that scar.\n\nEsme's chin lifted an inch higher. 'I don't know why I said it was a hunter. You were maybe a month old, or thereabouts, when you were dumped on Eile Street. I've no idea how you got that scar. It was just something I said to frighten you.'\n\nOr maybe we wouldn't find out, after all.\n\nI eyed Esme. There was something uncertain in her expression, something that told me she wasn't really sure why she told Cullen what she told him. 'Listen,' I said, 'it's all right if you don't remember everything, Esme. Just tell us what you do remember about when Cullen arrived at the orphanage.'\n\nShe huffed. 'Fine. Fine, I'll tell you.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was Winter Solstice. Well, no… it was a few days after Solstice, actually.'\n\n'Don't you have records of that?' Finn asked. 'Surely you ought to know what date a child arrived.'\n\n'If we did have any records on it, I think they were destroyed by damp.' Shane gave us a helpless shrug. 'Sorry Cullen. But all of the old files were just dumped in cardboard boxes in the basement. Some were chewed up by maybe rats or mice. Some were destroyed by water damage. It's a miracle that even this box of your things survived down there, to be honest.'\n\nEsme's mouth twisted into a vicious smile. 'What does it matter, anyway? The children who were left with us were left there for a reason. You weren't wanted then, and even if you knew who your parents were, I doubt you'd be wanted now.'\n\n'You…' Cullen gazed at Esme. 'You're just as awful as I remember.'\n\nThe old matron met his eyes. 'Maybe I was awful because I knew you were awful. I could see it in you, you know. That you were bad. I wasn't surprised that first time I caught you stealing food. And an entire packet of ham and three loaves of bread at that. Greedy.'\n\n'I was trying to steal enough for everyone, because we were all hungry. Look, I can see that you haven't changed, Esme. But just… please, if there's anything else you remember about that night then… please. For once in your life just do the decent thing and tell me.'\n\nHer smirk grew. 'You never did learn that the best way to catch flies was with honey, did you? But I'll tell you, even though you hardly deserve it. Let's see now… oh, yes. There was some sort of scuffle on the street. That's why I went outside. It was freezing so it was. The middle of the night. Snow was coming down hard. I heard fighting – there was growling, and shouting, and I went outside. One woman was twirling a silver wand and disappearing, and another woman – a werewolf, I've no doubt – was limping away down the street in a coat that didn't fit. And as for you… well, there you were, a few feet away from the doorstep, with that little music box open, listening to that horrible song, calm as anything.'\n\nHer eyes glinted maliciously. 'Most orphans in that orphanage were others. Wizards, weredogs, unempowered… It was a surprise to me when you showed yourself to be a witch. Not that it made a difference, did it? All of the people who came to adopt the empowered children weren't interested in you, were they? Their eyes would just drift on past you and onto the next child, because they could see what I saw. They could see that you were bad to the bone.'\n\nFinn stood up. 'I think that's enough, Esme. Unless you have something useful to tell us, we'll have an officer see you home.'\n\nShe didn't argue as Finn led her outside, and as soon as she was gone, I noticed that Cullen's shoulders relaxed for the first time since she'd arrived.\n\nI had the feeling that Esme was happy now – happy that she'd achieved exactly what she came here for. And it had nothing to do with defending herself for withholding Cullen's belongings all these years. I suspected Esme came here for one simple reason: to revel in Cullen's misery.\n\n'I'm sorry,' said Shane. 'I honestly thought that if she was hiding the things you came in with, she might have been hiding some more useful information. But I guess not. It seems the only reason she never gave you your belongings was because she was a cruel, nasty woman. And she hasn't changed.'\n\n'That's all right, Shane,' Cullen said. 'You couldn't have known.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "And it wasn't a waste of time at all. We do know more than we knew before. We know there were two women on Eile Street on the night I was left at the orphanage.'\n\nHis gaze caught mine, and I knew that he was reluctant to say the rest, so I said it for him. 'And one of those women had a silver wand.'\n\nShane frowned. 'You think it was Jude?'\n\n'I don't know.' I held my hands out. 'If it was, then she doesn't remember. This mystery is not getting any less mysterious, is it? For now, I'm going to go home and get some dinner and some rest. Maybe by the morning we'll have found Winston Wolfe, and he'll be able to help us clear some stuff up.'\n\nCullen stood up, lifting up the box of his belongings to take home with him. 'Dinner and a rest sounds good. Thanks for everything, Shane.'\n\nAs we walked out of the room, Shane smiled sadly and said, 'You're welcome. Just wish it could have been more.'\n\nOut in the hallway, Finn was talking animatedly on his phone. As he ended the call, he turned to look at us. 'We've found Winston Wolfe. You need to come to Aim Low, Katy. Winston has something to tell us, and Sol is advising him to say nothing unless you and Hamish are there, too. Y'know, because they don't like the law in Samhain Street.'\n\n[ The Only Leverage I Have ]\n\nI'd been worried about how to get in touch with Hamish, but as it turned out he was already at Sol's place when the Wayfarers burst in to arrest Winston. Hamish had turned up to collect his robot at almost the same time as Winston had crept into Sol's attic. It seemed that Winston's method of entry was to climb the drainpipe, which led him into Sol's spare bedroom, and from there he used the small door in the bedroom ceiling to gain entry to the attic.\n\nWhen Finn and I arrived on Desperation Row, Hamish was on the street chatting with some of the many officers on the scene. Winston was in Sol's living room, under guard, and Sol was pacing the floor of Aim Low, arguing with any Wayfarer who was foolish enough to engage.\n\n'Like I was saying to Katy earlier, once Winston was in his little attic squat, we think he then made his way through to the attic space above Giles's office,' Finn explained as we talked with Hamish on the street. 'It's possible if you're skinny enough, which Winston definitely is. Once we identified that it was Sol's attic he was squatting in, we had officers laying low all day, waiting for him to get back there.'\n\n'But you think he's been squatting here for a while, right, Finn?' I glanced back at Hamish. 'Did you hear anything when you were at Sol's?'\n\nThe wizard-dog shook his head. 'Nothing. And I don't think Sol knew he was up there, either. We were both equally surprised when the Wayfarers burst in about ten minutes ago and arrested Winston. I only went round to Sol's to collect my robot. You wouldn't have known Winston was up in that attic at all. He's clearly very good at staying quiet.'\n\nI moved closer to Hamish, bending down to his level. 'And you're all right? It's just that you've been kind of MIA since lunchtime.'\n\nHe gave me a valiant smile. 'I'm absolutely fine, Katy. I just had a wander about the city after I ate. Went to visit Peter Müd for a natter, then went and sat in St Stephen's Green for a while and watched the ducks, and then I came here. Nothing to worry about, honestly. After what you've told me has happened with Cullen, I think he's who we need to worry about now.\n\n'He puts on a brave face of it,' Hamish went on. 'Acts like a right cocky so-and-so most of the time, but he's got to be hurting, doesn't he? We started this day with you convinced we were going to find a Pillar of Permanence, Katy. Now, it looks like we're on the trail of something altogether different. But if Cullen finds out the truth about where he came from, then that's good enough for me.'\n\n'Now who's putting on a brave face?' I stroked his head. 'It doesn't have to be one thing or the other, you know.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "I didn't imagine Foirfe's voice in my head.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 22 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We're going to find that pillar, Hamish, and soon.'\n\nHe looked up at me. 'I hope you're right, Katy,' he said, finally letting that brave face slip. 'Because it turns out I do not like dog food. Not one little bit. Come on. Let's get in there and talk to Winston.'\n\nAs Finn, Hamish and I entered Aim Low, Sol rushed towards us. 'Before you accuse me of hiding a fugitive, Captain Plimpton, I didn't know he was in my attic.'\n\n'We're not accusing you of that,' Finn informed him. 'We're just going up to talk to him now.'\n\n'I mean, I know Winston,' Sol continued, following us up the stairs. 'We're mates. Friendly enough that I even asked him if he wanted to move into the spare room when Janine kicked him out. I wouldn't have charged him or anything. He told me he had something else sorted out, which didn't sound too believable when we all knew he hadn't been able to get a job since Giles fired him. I never in a million years thought it was my attic he was squatting in.'\n\n'I'm inclined to believe you, for once,' said Finn. 'But can you please make yourself scarce for a few minutes? Go back down and wait in the shop while we question Winston, will you?'\n\n'Why yes sir, three bags full sir,' Sol scoffed. 'Whatever you want, oh great and mighty Wayfarer.' He bowed low, then rushed back down the stairs, shouting, 'I'm going to go to the Bank, as a matter of fact, and have a drink. Call me when I can go back into my own property again, if it's not too much trouble!'",
"loss": true
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "hey can u write 57 sentences more sentences? keep same character vibes in contemporary style",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When we entered Sol's flat, Winston was sitting on a leather couch, his face in his hands. Looking up at us, he narrowed his eyes, pointed a finger at me and said, 'You were in Times of Yore earlier on today, weren't you? You and that bloke who runs the Bank. I'd never seen you before – I've heard a lot about Katy Kramer and Hamish Rhodes, and how they can be trusted more than the Wayfarers. But now I'm not so sure. Did you rat me out, Katy Kramer?'\n\n'Well, no, I…' Fluff it, anyway. 'I mean, I didn't rat you out, but…' But what? He'd really put me on the spot. I'd always hated lying, but I'd made myself do it ever since moving to the enclave, and I'd become quite good at it, too. But I was tired, and hungry, and the question of Cullen's parentage and the search for the Pillar of Permanence was weighing heavy on my mind; I wasn't sure I had the energy to tell yet another lie.\n\nAt times like this I wondered how I ever managed to solve the simplest of mysteries. Sheer dumb luck? Tenacity? Right now, I felt like I was running out of both.\n\n'See?' said Winston. 'You can't even answer my question. You're a Wayfarer, aren't you? Undercover. Just pretending to be a proper Samhain Street resident. I'm right, amn't I?'\n\nHamish stood forward. 'Are ye mad? Katy? Work with the Wayfarers? She'd rather skin herself alive. She's a mate of that vampire who owns Times of Yore, it's true. But she wouldnae hand you in. One of the items turned out to have some unusual magic and the Wayfarers nabbed it. That's what led them to you. A little silver plum. Do you recall it?'\n\nWinston still appeared to be suspicious. 'You're talking about that damson with the broken leg, right? It plays music? You know, the Wayfarers who stormed up to the attic and arrested me asked me about that, too. Why is everyone so interested in that thing?'\n\nHamish was about to say something, but Winston spoke across him. 'I mean, I heard on the street today that Giles Tinsley was killed. I thought that's what you'd be questioning me about. Not some broken old music box.'\n\n'Giles's murder is our priority, yes,' said Finn. He was visibly shaking. A day filled with murder and mystery probably wasn't the best day for him to give up coffee. 'We're interested in finding out where it came from, that's all. But look, if you don't think that Katy and Hamish are trustworthy – which they are, mind you – then you can always come down to the station and I'll send them home. They're only allowed to sit in on your questioning because you requested it. Say the word, and they're gone.'\n\nHe ground his teeth for a moment. 'No. No, I… Sol says I can trust them, and I'd rather have them here than not. And I've heard enough people talk about how they solved crimes that you and the rest of the Wayfarers were too useless to figure out. I just… I'm on edge. Paranoid. Let's just get this over with, Captain Plimpton. You think I actually have something to do with Giles Tinsley's death?'\n\n'We'd certainly like you to explain some of the evidence that seems to point your way,' Finn said, before listing off the evidence he'd gathered against Winston.\n\nAs Finn spoke, Winston grew paler and paler. Finally, he hung his head. 'Well… when you put it all together like that, I suppose it does sound bad, doesn't it? I… I'm not a killer, though, I swear. I've done some desperate things recently, but I'd never do that.'\n\n'Well then maybe you could explain your side of things,' said Finn. 'For starters, why hide out in Sol's attic?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Why not tell him you were up there?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Why not accept his offer of a room?'\n\n'See?' He narrowed his eyes. 'Here it is. The accusations. You think I turned down Sol and hid upstairs so I could move between Sol's attic and Giles's office, don't you?'\n\n'Unless you can give me another reason why you'd rather squat in secrecy than take up a freely offered bedroom, then yeah, I'd say it looks incredibly suspicious, wouldn't you?' challenged Finn.\n\nWinston gritted his teeth for a moment, then ground out: 'I was only squatting because I'm too proud for my own good! I didn't want Sol to know how bad things were for me. I didn't want it getting back to Giles! That man had done everything he could to ruin my life – he'd badmouthed me to anyone who would've hired me. I tried to get work all over this enclave, but you know what he's been telling people? That I'm a thief, that's what!'\n\nHis cheeks blazed red, and his eyes turned yellow for a moment. 'I… I know I'm a thief now. But I wasn't until recently. I was a good worker. I just… I was desperate to see Megan. I couldn't let Giles succeed in taking her from me too. I just… I just needed enough to pay Janine some maintenance, that's all. So she'd let me see my little girl. You can even ask her. Ask Janine and she'll tell you – I stuck an envelope of gold rounds through her letterbox today, so I did. I didn't want the money for anything except Megan.'\n\nHis eyes had turned back to blue again, and his whole body sagged. 'I never thought I'd be in this position. I worked so hard for so long to develop my skills. I'm good at what I do. I… I thought I had everything. The perfect wife, a child I love so much it aches, a job making toys for the famous Tinsley coven. And then, for whatever reason, Giles decided he wanted to mess about with my wife, and that was the end of my happiness. When I… when I was up in Sol's attic, I didn't even know at first that it was connected to Tinsleys' – I didn't notice the gap until I heard them at night time, kissing and giggling together, while I was trying to get some shut-eye.'\n\n'That must have been hard,' I said, while he paused for a few moments.\n\n'That's not the worst of it.' He looked me in the eye. 'The worst of it is that Giles did all of that for nothing. If he'd loved Janine, I'd maybe have understood why he stole her from me, why he destroyed my life. But he was only using her. He already had someone else on the go. I heard him with her, so I did. Not that Janine believed me when I tried to tell her about that. But… anyway, it made me so mad. And I knew Giles was the reason I wasn't getting any work, so late one night – it was practically morning, really – I sneaked through from this attic into his, and then I jumped down and stole a snow globe from his office. It was a stupid thing to do and I know it. But I made that snow globe with my own hands and gave it to Giles as a present last Winter Solstice, idiot that I am. And I wanted it back. Once I took that, I figured that I could take more stuff, just a little bit, just enough so that I could see Megan. It… it was horrible. I hated stealing. I hated every second of it. And I was bad at it, too. Once I had the stuff, I had no idea what to do with it. I… I'm not a criminal mastermind, and I'm definitely not a murderer. I'm just an idiot who was angry and desperate.'\n\nHe combed his hands through his hair. 'Aargh! You're never going to believe me though, are you? You said that the toy I made for Megan was in his office, too, and I have no idea how that got there. I certainly didn't put it there, that much I know.'\n\n'It wasn't just that it was in his office, though,' said Finn. 'There's also the fact that the toy you made was also used to hit Giles across the face right before he died.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Winston groaned. 'Yeah, but I didn't hit him, I swear I didn't.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The last time I saw that toy was a few days ago when I was trying to give it to Janine for Megan. I couldn't believe Janine wouldn't take it off me, that she wouldn't give it to her. She wanted maintenance money first. Thank the stars Siobhan took it, although how it wound up in Giles's office after that, I have no idea. It… Megan needs to be proud of being a werewolf, you know? I made that for her so she would be proud of what she is. Janine should have given it to her. She… she hates me, and none of this is my fault!'\n\n'I understand you're upset,' Hamish said softly. 'But what you say now could really help us get to the truth, Winston. You mentioned Siobhan. Are you saying that you gave the toy to her?'\n\nWinston nodded. 'I… yeah. Yeah, that's what happened. Siobhan took it and she said she'd get Janine to see sense, that she'd make sure it was passed on to Megan. I thought it was a bit weird at the time, but… I gave it to her, anyway.'\n\n'What was weird about it?' asked Finn. 'It sounds like a nice gesture to me.'\n\nWinston shrugged. 'Yeah, but Siobhan isn't normally the sort to do anything nice for anyone. She's pretty cold, actually. And considering she was also messing about with Giles, well… her \"nice gesture\" seemed kind of weird.' His eyes lit up. 'Oh! Yeah. She… she's the one I was just telling you about, so she is. The other woman I heard in Giles's office, messing about with him. Maybe… maybe she found out about Giles and Janine. Maybe she hit Giles with the toy and then chucked him out the window.'\n\n'See, laddie, there's a problem with that, though,' Hamish said softly. 'The only prints on that toy are yours.'\n\nWinston frowned. 'That's impossible. Janine kind of folded her arms when I tried to press it into her hands, so I guess it makes sense that her prints wouldn't be on it. But it should definitely have Siobhan's prints.' He scratched his head. 'Why would it only have my prints? It…'\n\nHis eyes snapped up, and he stared at us. 'It's Siobhan. She's setting me up.'\n\n'And why would she do that?' asked Finn.\n\nWinston held his hands out. 'Why not? Maybe she killed Giles because she found out about him and Janine, or because he wouldn't divorce Theresa. And she set me up because… I dunno… because she thinks that I'd be the obvious suspect. Yeah, now that I think about it, the more I'm sure it's her. I told you I stole that snow globe? Well, I was only up in the attic by the skin of my nose, just pulling the door across when she marched into Giles's office. I thought she might have seen me, actually, but she never said a thing, so I assumed I got away with it. This was… oh, nearly a week ago. I don't know what she was doing in so early – maybe she was supposed to have a romantic meeting with Giles. But anyway, the night after that, I got back to the attic after being out and about, and… things just didn't look right.'\n\n'What do you mean by that?' Hamish questioned.\n\nWinston looked uncertain. 'I… I can't explain it, really. But I think someone had been at my things. Stuff just looked slightly out of place. There was a faint smell of perfume. I hoped I was just being paranoid. But what if I wasn't? What if it was Siobhan? What if she did see me that morning? Then she went up to my squat and saw how I was living, and she thought to herself: What a perfect person to set up to take the fall.'\n\nFinn's expression was incredulous.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word usage target: 'telling' must be used 3 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Wait, you're expecting me to believe that Siobhan was setting you up, based on you telling me she might have seen you hopping up into the attic above Giles's office, and that there was a faint smell of perfume in your attic the next night?'\n\nWinston groaned. 'Oh, look, I know how it sounds. But I'm telling you, I feel this in my bones. It's the only thing that makes sense. Siobhan did this. She set me up. You have to search her flat, I'm telling you. You'll find some evidence against her.'\n\nWhile Finn gave him a dubious stare, Winston got onto his knees. 'Please. I know I'm acting desperate here, and that's because I am. You have to search her flat, I beg you.'\n\n'I'm sorry,' said Finn. 'We can't go and get a search warrant based on what you just said. We're due to question her tomorrow, and we'll give your theory fair consideration, but that's all I can tell you, Winston. For now, you're going to have to come into the station with us and give us a formal statement, and–'\n\nWinston shouted out, 'The damson!'\n\n'Excuse me?' Finn's brow furrowed as he glared down at Winston.\n\n'The damson! I mean… the plum. You want to know where the plum came from, right? It means something to all of you. Something big. I can sense it. And I'll tell you about it, I will. But first, you have to promise me you'll search Siobhan's flat.'\n\n'Sorry.' Finn shook his head. 'But that sounds like blackmail. You don't want to make things worse for yourself, do you Winston? The best way you can help your case right now is by being upfront with us about everything. Including where you stole that plum from.'\n\n'I want to tell you,' said Winston. 'I do. But can't you understand this from my point of view? I know I'm not a murderer, and right now the only explanation I can think of for all of this is that I'm being set up. So if I go along with you guys right now, and you leave it too long before you search Siobhan's flat, there might be nothing for you to find. My life will be over, and all because I didn't push you to do what I know in my bones that you need to do.'\n\nHe looked imploringly at Hamish and me. 'It's you two who want to know about this musical plum thing, I know it is. It means more to you than it means to the captain. I have a werewolf's nose. I can smell these things. And I will tell you. I hate doing his, I really do. But it's my only leverage. Search Siobhan Cahill's flat, and you'll find evidence against her. You will. She's dead behind the eyes, that woman.'\n\nHamish's eyes locked with mine. 'Cahill?' he said.\n\n'Cahill,' I echoed, with my whole body tingling with excitement. 'Finn, Siobhan's surname is Cahill?'\n\nFinn nodded. 'Yeah. We haven't questioned her yet, but we've arrange for her to come in tomorrow. Wait, why do you and Hamish look so excited about this?'\n\nI pulled him across the room into Sol's small kitchen, with Hamish following behind. 'Me and Hamish were supposed to have an appointment with a Miss Cahill this afternoon, except she called to cancel,' I said. 'She had wanted us to investigate a cheating boyfriend. But when she called to cancel she said she wouldn't be needing our services anymore. The cheating boyfriend was clearly Giles. And she was last seen with the toy? I think that's a pretty good reason to be suspicious, don't you?'\n\nFinn's eyes were straying covetously towards the jar of instant coffee on Sol's kitchen counter. 'Well, I dunno. Her prints weren't on the toy, were they?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'I've been thinking about that,' I said.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 39 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'She could have been wearing gloves when he handed her the toy – they wear gloves at work, don't they? The other possibility is that she wiped the toy, then placed Winston's prints back on it and… and she wore gloves when she whacked Giles in order to set Winston up.'\n\n'That all sounds incredibly elaborate,' said Finn. 'It just seems far more likely to me that it was Winston.'\n\nI wiggled my brows. 'I'm having tingles, Finn. Tingles. All down my spine. Which means that something about this Siobhan Cahill is setting my witch hunter senses alight.' I awkwardly scratched between my shoulder blades before adding, 'I believe Winston. We need to search Siobhan Cahill's flat.'\n\nFinn sighed. 'Fine. I'll see if I can talk the judge into giving us a search warrant. But first, I'm going to make myself a cup of coffee.'\n\n[ That Frizzy-Haired Fool ]\n\nHamish and I had been given a lot of leeway that day; we'd been allowed to sit in on interviews we really had no right to be at, and all because we were perceived to be more trustworthy than the Wayfarers.\n\nI was feeling guilty about that, of course. One of these days, the people of Samhain Street would trust in the Wayfarers enough for me to admit that I was one, albeit undercover. But I wasn't holding my breath. Still, I didn't think that Siobhan would be quite as keen to have my presence there while she was being searched and questioned, so I did what anyone would (well, anyone who was armed with a hunter's Toolkit): I donned my glamour cloak and disguised myself as Wanda Wayfair. Wanda was studying this evening, but Siobhan wouldn't know that.\n\nHamish had decided to head to the Bank instead, to spend some time with Cullen. As Finn and I thundered up the steps of Siobhan's building, I wished I was there with them. But Winston told us that this was the only way he'd ever tell us where he found that musical plum, and I knew he meant it.\n\n'Siobhan Cahill?' Finn asked as a young woman opened the door. She looked, unsurprisingly, just like every other woman who'd been hired by Giles.\n\n'And what if I am? Look, I have a very busy schedule this evening, so I really can't waste time on whatever nonsense this is.' Just as she'd done when she called to cancel our appointment, Siobhan pronounced the 'ch' in schedule in that same soft way.\n\nBut it wasn't just her pronunciation which sent a super-strong tingling sensation down my spine. It was her, everything about her. She was dead behind the eyes, just as Winston had said, and looking at her, I felt certain that she was a murderer. She was a bad witch, a wayward witch, a witch who made my body itch…\n\n'Well, whatever you have planned is going to have to wait, Miss Cahill,' the captain informed her.\n\n'You can't just expect me to let you in, Captain Plimpton. This is my home. My sanctuary. And also, I wasn't even in work today, so unless you have a warrant, you can bugger off.'\n\n'Nice.' Finn gave her a tight smile. 'Well, we do have a warrant, as it happens. So Miss Cahill, you're just going to have to step aside.'",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Job: User writes start, you add ~37 sentences sentences. Style: A. A. Albright. Note: May include established characters",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Siobhan stood out in the hallway, surrounded by officers, while we searched her flat. As I pawed through her things, I kept shooting glances her way.\n\n'You're certain it's her, aren't you?' Finn murmured.\n\n'I can't explain it. She just… rubs me up the wrong way. And the fact that she wanted me and Hamish to find proof about Giles's cheating, that gives her a provable motive. I do, Finn – I feel absolutely certain that she's a killer.'\n\n'Maybe. Maybe not. But unless we find something confirming she made a call to you, then she'll be a killer who gets away with it,' he said.\n\n'What about phone records?'\n\n'Paul's already traced the calls that were made to your office to set up Siobhan's appointment. They came from a phone booth in the enclave,' he said, opening up a diary and flicking through its pages. 'Anyone could have made them. Or… maybe not.'\n\nFinn passed the diary my way. Under today's date, there was an entry:\n\nAppointment with Katy Kramer, PI, at 2. this afternoon. I'll soon know if I'm right about my boyfriend cheating.\n\nAs Finn brought the diary over to show to Siobhan, she shook her head. 'No. No, I didn't write that, I swear I didn't. It's not even my writing.'\n\nFinn pulled a sceptical face. 'It looks like the same writing you've used to mark every other appointment, Siobhan. And it mentions an appointment with Katy Kramer. I wonder, if I were to call up Miss Kramer, would she confirm that you made an appointment with her for today?'\n\n'What?' Siobhan's nose wrinkled up as she glared at Finn. 'Katy Kramer? Isn't she that frizzy-haired fool everyone seems to think is so great? Look, I don't do sneaking around and hiring detectives. It's not my style. It looks a bit like my handwriting, I suppose, but not much. I didn't make that appointment. I don't even have a boyfriend, let alone a cheating one, so why would I need a private investigator?'\n\nI shrugged. 'You don't have a boyfriend, it's true. You had a married man who you were having an affair with. Giles Tinsley.'\n\nHer face grew pale. 'I… well… but I still didn't make that appointment. I swear. I didn't.'\n\n'Really?' Finn gave her a searching look.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'So you didn't suspect that Giles was also having an affair with Janine?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Your task: Include 'office' 2 time(s) in your response",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She swallowed. 'Janine? Giles was having an affair with Janine? No. He wouldn't do that. You're lying. He loved me. Only me. He s-said so. He w-wouldn't lie to me.'\n\nI narrowed my eyes. She was crying, and shivering, and looking incredibly convincing. Except for her eyes. 'You were seen giving Janine some very dirty looks at work yesterday. And the night before, you'd gone back to the office with a bottle of wine to surprise Giles, hadn't you? Maybe you caught him with Janine, and decided to take your revenge.'\n\nShe scratched her head. 'What? I didn't catch them. I didn't know about them. Look, I need to sit down, all right? Because I'm in shock right now. There's an appointment in my diary that I know I didn't write in there. There's all this stuff you're saying about Giles and Janine. I don't understand any of it.'\n\n'So why did you book a day off then?' I pressed. 'If not to have a meeting with Katy Kramer, then why?'\n\n'I keep telling you, I did not make an appointment with that frizzy-haired fool! I took a day off to teach Giles a lesson, all right? Make him… make him miss me. I'd given him an ultimatum recently. I told him that if he kept dragging his heels, if he didn't end things with Theresa, then we were over. And I wanted to make sure he had some time without me for that to sink in. I was going to stay off work for at least a week, maybe longer, if that was what it took to make him realise how much he loved me. But if I'd known he was going to be killed, that I could have seen him one last time, then believe me, I would never have taken a single second off.'\n\nFluff it, anyway. She was really very convincing. If I didn't mistrust her with every fibre of my being, then I might just believe every word she said.\n\n'And I suppose you don't know anything about how a certain toy got into Giles's office today, either?' I asked. 'A toy that Winston Wolfe handed to you, because you said you'd pass it on to Janine.'\n\nHer eyes widened. 'I… I just… I don't know, actually. You're talking about that little half transformed werewolf kid riding the broom, right?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I mean, I remember Winston forcing it on me, but I never had any intention of actually giving it to Janine.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She rushed to her bag.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'As far as I know, it's still in here.'\n\nFinn snatched the bag from her and looked through it. 'No toy, Siobhan. And the funny thing is that, if you'd had it, how come it doesn't have your prints on it?'\n\nShe bit her lip. 'I… I had gloves on when Winston gave it to me.'\n\n'Gloves? In July?' Finn arched a brow. I was slightly impressed with him, considering he already knew it was a possibility.\n\n'Yes, in July,' Siobhan insisted. 'We have to wear stupid gloves at work, no matter how hot it is. Look, why are you grilling me? Winston is the one who killed Giles. I'm certain of it. Maybe he's setting me up. Did you ever think of that? Maybe he came in here and fiddled with my diary, and took the toy back while he was at it.'\n\n'Why would he do that?' Finn asked. I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He wasn't nearly as convinced of Winston's innocence as I was.\n\nShe looked boldly at Finn. 'Because he knows I saw him. He knows I was in his filthy little attic. He knows I can give evidence against him, and he's trying to get in first.' She placed her hands on her hips and flicked her hair. 'He's living up there like a rat, did you know that? In the attic above that awful second-hand broom shop. And he's a thief. I saw him steal a snow globe from Giles's desk. He's always been a dangerous man. I warned Janine about him many, many times. I was relieved when they split up.'\n\n'Were you?' I asked. 'If that's the case, why did you take that toy off Winston and say you'd pass it on?'\n\nShe snorted. 'Well I didn't do it willingly, did I? Like I just said, he forced it upon me. I had no choice but to take it. He's a scary man.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "My dislike for her was growing stronger by the second.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I had the urge to tie her with my ropes, use my binder on her, possibly even burn her at the stake. Obviously I wouldn't do the last part, but as I think I've already mentioned, she was a bad witch, a wayward witch, a witch who made my body itch…\n\n'So scary that you decided to climb up into the attic and seek him out?' I asked. 'Seems to me that if you were scared, you could have reported him to the Wayfarers. Or to a private investigator like Katy Kramer if you don't like the law. Or perhaps you could have told Giles that you caught Winston stealing from his desk. But you didn't do any of that, did you? You went up there into the attic where Winston was living. Doesn't sound like the actions of a frightened woman to me.'\n\n'It wasn't like that. I didn't just go up there because I wanted to play detective. I mean, what kind of idiot would even do that? Would rush headlong into a dangerous situation? Me, I was terrified, and I did not go up there by choice. But… the night after I saw Winston stealing the snow globe, me and Giles were… you know… in his office. But then we heard the door open downstairs, and Theresa calling out. So Giles told me to hide in the attic. I was up there for a while, and I couldn't hear Winston, so I decided to investigate. You can walk through if you're thin enough. Easily. That's why I'm sure that Winston did it. You have to believe me.' She pointed to the diary. 'Get that checked by a handwriting expert. Then you'll see that I didn't write in that appointment.'\n\nWhen she spoke about the diary entry, it was the one and only time I believed a single word that came out of her mouth. But the voice on the phone had sounded exactly like hers.\n\n'Boss.' I looked up at Finn, doing my best impression of Wanda's cheeky grin. 'I think she ought to come in and make a formal statement about all of this. We can leave the team here to keep combing her flat in the meantime. What do you say?'\n\nWith a roll of his eyes, Finn said, 'Okay then, Wanda. We'll do just that.'\n\nMy Father's Child?\n\nFinn sat back in his chair, his feet up on his desk, chugging a cup of coffee.\n\n'So how did it go?' I asked, drumming my fingers against my thigh. I was no longer disguised as Wanda, and I hadn't been in the interview room when Siobhan made her formal statement, either.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I'd been afraid to stay too long in my disguise, in case something went wrong and it affected the case against Siobhan.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Include 'there' 4 time(s) in your answer - no more, no less",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'She cracked, didn't she? And the writing in the diary is hers, isn't it?'\n\nFinn held a finger up to indicate that he wasn't quite finished drinking. After a few more long slurps, he placed the cup down. 'No and no. Siobhan remained absolutely consistent in everything she said. And according to our expert, the writing is not hers, although it's a very good impression. Plus, there's some evidence that someone else might have been in her flat. The diary was wiped clean of prints using a cleaning potion, so was the light switch just inside the door, and the door handle. Well, the switch and the handle did have Siobhan's prints on them, but there were also traces of the same strong potion as the one used on the diary, which does suggest that someone was covering their tracks after being in her home, and then Siobhan used the handle and switch herself, afterwards, and left her own fresh prints behind.'\n\n'What? That's… that's not what I expected to hear. But… I mean, if it was Winston who broke in like she's saying, then surely he'd wear gloves, right? So why would he need to wipe anything clean? And wouldn't there be a trace of his aura at the flat? I'll bet there's not though, is there?'\n\nFinn looked into his empty cup. 'You're right that there's no trace of his aura, but that won't matter in court. Sometimes people don't leave much of a trace if they're not transforming, or somehow using their supernatural abilities. Our tech is strong, but not perfect, and I doubt it'll make a difference to the case against Winston. As for why he might have wiped the prints, well… maybe he called around to… I dunno… to ask Siobhan why she hadn't given Janine the toy yet. Winston got frustrated with Siobhan's answer, so he waited around until she went out somewhere, then broke in to steal the toy back, but he hatched his plan to kill Giles and set Siobhan up once he was there.'\n\n'That's an awful lot of conjecture, Finn,' I said.\n\nHe sighed. 'Well, maybe, but there's more. Worse than any of that. In our search of the skip behind Tinsleys', one of my team found a card belonging to Winston. An out of date membership for the Toymakers' Guild. It seems like he might have dropped it when he was pulling out that enormous Christmas star.'\n\n'Oh.' I squirmed in my seat. 'That's… that's bad, admittedly. But maybe Siobhan stole it when she was up in the attic.'\n\n'Who's the one conjecturing now? I'm open to any and all possibilities, Katy, but I just don't think your theory's going to convince a jury, do you? The way things stand, there's no way that Siobhan is ever going to be seen as a suspect. The Wyrd Court is very unlikely to prosecute someone on so little evidence. Not when there's so much more proof against Winston.'\n\nIt sure was looking that way, but I was reluctant – nay, I was refusing – to ignore my instincts. 'What about what Lucy said, though? That's an inconsistency in Siobhan's story, right?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When they met in the Bank, Siobhan told Lucy she was buying wine to go and surprise Giles, and then Lucy said she had a face like thunder the next morning at work.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She caught them, I know she did.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Siobhan caught Giles and Janine together, and that's when she hatched a plan to murder him and pin it on Winston.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "// You must use the word 'enough' exactly 3 times in your response",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'But why?' Finn asked. 'Why would she want to pin it on Winston? That makes no sense.'\n\nI shrugged. 'I don't know. Spite. She seems really spiteful. Heck, Winston could have given her a dirty look once, or he could just be the best available scapegoat. I don't really know why. I just know she did it.'\n\n'Sure. Look, Katy, Lucy was only guessing as to why Siobhan had a face like thunder the morning after she said she was going to surprise Giles at his office. Siobhan said she did go there that night. She says Janine wasn't there. Only Giles. She says she and Giles talked about their relationship, and she pushed him to leave Theresa. So it's not an inconsistency, is it? Not when Siobhan has a perfectly rational explanation for it all.'\n\nMy hands gripped the arms of the chair. My whole body felt uncomfortable – it was a tingling, angry mess. 'She's the killer, Finn. I know it. She… she sets my hunter senses on fire, and those are never wrong.'\n\nHe gave me an uneasy frown. 'Well… your dad's certainly were on more than one occasion.'\n\n'Ouch. You're comparing me to my dad? That's not fair, Finn, and you know it. My father is a murderer, and the people he killed weren't even witches, let alone wayward ones. Every sense he ever had was all skewed up. I'm nothing like him.'\n\nHe gave me a small, apologetic smile. 'Oh crap, Katy, I know you're not. I don't know why I said that. But I'm sorry, okay? This is a bad day, and a horrible case, and I had not enough caffeine and then far too much. You've been an exemplary hunter so far, and I do trust your senses. I trusted them enough to convince a judge to let us search Siobhan's flat. I trusted them enough to let you and Hamish sit in on interviews, and to let you disguise yourself as Wanda Wayfair tonight. But Winston promised you something you really wanted, didn't he? He said he'd tell you about where he got that music box if we searched Siobhan's flat. Maybe you want to believe him because of that. Maybe you're afraid that, now Siobhan's in the clear, he won't come through with his promise.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Nope.' I stood up, feeling like I'd had just about as much as I could take of Finn for today. 'Winston's going to be sore about this, no doubt. But he's going to come through with his promise. I'm just as sure of that as I am that Siobhan is a murderer. So can I go and see him, please?'\n\n[ Tell Her She Needs to Remember ]\n\nAs I entered the interview room, Finn's words were echoing in my mind. Was I like my dad? There was no evidence of that so far – I'd helped the Wayfarers to arrest a lot of people, and all of them were guilty. But my instant hatred for Siobhan, my certainty that she was a murderer… that was fairly new. I'd had an instinct about people before, but this time it was exceptionally strong.\n\nI'd seen her as she left the Wayfarer Station, and taken a look at her through my Aurameter. It was an interesting experience. Through my lens, I saw Siobhan standing atop a pyre, tied to a stake and screaming as her body was engulfed by the flames. The Intuition Interface was glitchy at best. Sometimes it showed me a red herring in place of the person's face, sometimes it showed me nothing at all, but it had never shown me anything like this.\n\nI pulled it out now, as I took a seat across from Winston and said, 'Do you mind if I take a look at you, Winston, before we chat?'\n\nHe shrugged. 'Go for it. But I'm not a witch, Katy. I'm a werewolf. I don't see how an Aurameter will help you.'\n\n'It's not a standard model,' I admitted, raising it to my eye and sighing. I could see his true werewolf form, but nothing more than that. No red herring image to cement my belief in his innocence.\n\n'What are you checking for, then?'\n\n'I… just… anything, really,' I told him. 'Because I'm sorry, Winston, but things aren't looking good. I… the Wayfarers searched Siobhan's flat. It's been decided that she's not a suspect.'\n\n'Oh.' He appeared to be genuinely shocked. 'I thought for sure you'd find something against her.'\n\n'Like what, Winston? What did you think we'd find? Why were you so certain it was her?' My heart was in my mouth as I questioned him. If he said anything about a diary, then that was proof of his guilt – proof that Siobhan was right, and he'd been setting her up.\n\n'I really don't know.' He held his arms out in a gesture of helplessness. 'It was… maybe it was just one last, desperate hope, I suppose.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Oh, I know there are lots more people with a reason to be angry with Giles.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "OOC, Word frequency rule: 'didn't' × 3",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Janine and Theresa, and probably a hundred more women he's annoyed, I'll bet. But out of everyone he's undoubtedly piddled off over the years, Siobhan's the only one I can imagine being calculated enough to kill him.'\n\nHe looked up at the ceiling. 'Although now that I've had time to think about it, there's nothing but my own mistrust of her to make me feel that way.'\n\nA tear slid down his cheek, and he shook himself and wiped it away. 'I wish I had an alibi. I wish I hadn't been sneaking around in shame for the last couple of weeks. I wish I hadn't nicked that snow globe. The whole case against me is going to hinge on the fact that I stole back something that I'd given as a gift to Giles.'\n\n'Well, I think it might hinge on more than that, actually.' I told him about his guild card being found in the skip, carefully studying his reaction as I spoke.\n\n'That… that sounds about right.' His expression was resigned. 'When I checked my stuff, I knew something was missing, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. My main concern was that my photo of my daughter was still there, and it was. It wouldn't have occurred to me that someone would take an expired guild card. The skip where it was found – that's the same big container where the Christmas star was thrown away, right? I saw Giles telling some of his little elves to chuck it in there yesterday.'\n\n'Right. And now it looks like you pulled the star out of there and placed it directly under Giles's window last night, pointiest end facing up, and dropped your card while you were at it.'\n\n'Yeah. Yeah, things are looking even worse for me than I thought. Pity no one on Desperation Row uses CCTV. If they did, I'd be able to prove it wasn't me.' He gave me an appraising stare. 'You know, you didn't have to tell me this, though. It would have been far more sensible to make sure I came through on my part of the bargain before you told me Siobhan is in the clear.'\n\n'I guess it would. I did think about playing things differently, but…'\n\n'But you didn't. Because people are right about you, Katy Kramer.' He sat forward. 'You've come through for people in this enclave time and time again. There's rumours that you cleared Diane Carey's name when everyone thought she was a killer, that it's thanks to you that Denton Montrose and Darrell Plimpton are in Witchfield. There are so many rumours about you and Hamish and everything you do. But… this time, I don't think you're going to be so lucky.'\n\n'What do you mean?' I asked.\n\nAnother tear was falling, but Winston didn't bother to wipe this one away. 'Janine chose Giles over me even though I've been a good husband. And people I went to, looking for work, they believed I was a thief, all because Giles said so. So I became one.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And now, because of that, there's a very strong case against me, and even though I have this feeling in my bones that Siobhan is responsible, I know that it's never going to stand up in court. I'm just… I'm not the one people choose, when they choose who to trust. Who to believe. Who to love.' He shrugged. 'I'm just not. So I really won't hold it against you, Katy. The evidence against me is strong. And that's… well, that's crap, but it is what it is. I'm too tired to beg any more, to plead my innocence. I'm just… done.'\n\nHe took in a breath. 'Now. You and I had a bargain, and I'm going to keep to it. That music box. The little silver plum that I think looks more like a damson. I stole it from a house on Hunting Hill. From the abandoned mansion south of the Lodge.'\n\nI blinked, staring at him. 'Abandoned mansion? Winston, there's no abandoned mansion on Hunting Hill, and definitely not south of the Lodge. I've been up that way before.'\n\nHe blinked back at me, looking perplexed. 'Yes there is. Look, I've had a horrible couple of weeks, capped off by the worst day in my life, and I'm tired. But I'm not delirious. There is a huge old house there. It says \"Montrose\" on a big fancy sign on one of the entrance pillars. Well… the sign was fancy, once. Before it got all mouldy and covered in dead flies and stuff.'\n\nI carried on blinking, and so did he. After a moment, I said, 'Wait, are you sure you don't mean the gatehouse at the Lodge? Denton Montrose used to live there, before he got arrested.'\n\nHe shook his head emphatically. 'Come on now, Katy. You think I'd say mansion when I mean gatehouse? There is a great big mansion there, I'm telling you. Just go and see for yourself. But until then, do you want me to tell you about the plum or not?'\n\nI stared at him. He really did seem to be telling the truth. 'Yes. Please.'\n\n'All right. So, I went in to see if there was anything worth taking. But the second I walked in, I wished I hadn't. That house, it's just so mental inside.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like… like it was abandoned in the middle of a Winter Solstice party or something. Lots of seasonal decorations, but they're all dusty.'\n\n'Seasonal?' I felt a little leap in my chest. 'Decorations? Could they be Christmas decorations, maybe, instead of Winter Solstice?'\n\nHe laughed. 'In a Montrose mansion? I don't think so, do you? Christmas is for humans and weredogs as far as rich covens like the Montroses are concerned. Nope. Definitely Solstice. And there were lots of plates and glasses laid out in this big ginormous hall with a dancefloor in the middle. There was a lot I could have nicked. But… well, I got scared away before I could grab more than that damson. I found it in the kitchen, on a little table. No sooner had I picked it up than some ghost started singing Silent Night.' He shivered. 'I hate that song so much.'\n\nI shivered, too. What was so important about Silent Night? Why would those music boxes play it, when they were clearly designed around the Nutcracker? The song didn't fit in, which made it seem all the more important. 'Why do you hate that song, Winston? I didn't think werewolves had a problem with music from the human world. And it's such a pretty carol, too.'\n\nHe tensed up. 'I suppose it is, when I think about it. It was on the radio every year when I was growing up, because we moved to the human world for a while, oh… just over a year after my big sister went missing. Mam would get weirdly upset whenever it came on the radio and switch it straight off. And I grew to hate it, too. Maybe she hated it just because it is a Christmas song and that's when my little sister went missing. On Christmas Eve. Her name… her name was Megan. I never stopped missing her, even though I was really young when she disappeared. It'll be thirty-three years this Christmas, as a matter of fact.'\n\n'So you called your little girl after your missing big sister? Oh, Winston, I'm so sorry.'\n\n'No need. It's not like it was your fault. But yeah, when the ghost turned up, I freaked out and ran off. That's probably how the leg broke off, I reckon – I was so upset that I dropped it about half a dozen times as I was running out of the house.'\n\n'And did you happen to have a conversation with an older man on the way home, by any chance?'\n\nHe laughed sheepishly. 'Yeah, I did, now that you mention it. Yet more proof that I'm hardly the most talented of thieves. Having a conversation about ghosts while you're holding a stolen object isn't exactly the wisest of ideas.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But that's what ghosts'll do to you.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I know witches don't mind them – they even party with them on Halloween, don't they?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But all that stuff isn't for me.'\n\n'Why are you so sure, though? That it was a ghost? Could it have been a squatter who was singing?'\n\n'I really don't think so. For one thing, the house felt off from the second I went in. Like… like I was wading through mud. Once I was inside, I felt like something was trying to push me out.' He shivered. 'I also felt like… like if I could push through it, if I could stay, I'd find out something really, really important. Then when I got to the kitchen and I picked up that music box, the woman's voice seemed like it was coming closer and closer, until her voice was right up against my ear. That's when she stopped singing, and said, \"You have to take what you stole to Jude Kramer. Tell her to turn the star. Tell her she needs to remember\".'\n\n'Whoa.' Once again I was blinking, and feeling utterly shocked. 'That's what she said? She actually mentioned someone called Jude Kramer?'\n\n'Yeah, yeah I'm sure of it,' said Winston. 'You don't forget the most terrifying interaction you've ever had, do you? But I don't know anyone called Jude Kramer, so I have no idea how she expected me to do what she asked. Hey… your second name is Kramer, isn't it? How come that didn't occur to me until just now?'\n\nProbably, I thought, because the Wayfarers had put a befuddlement spell upon my surname, so that even when people heard it, they wouldn't associate me with my father, the infamous witch hunter. 'Don't know. Weird. But I know Jude, and I'll get that message to her. And Winston, I… I shouldn't say this, but… but I'll keep looking into this, all right? Into Giles's murder. If there's a way to clear your name, I'll find it.'\n\nHe gazed at me. 'Katy, there's no way to clear my name. I… I've accepted that this is just one more thing in the long line of bad luck that I've had ever since Giles took a shine to Janine. And even if there was a way, I can't pay you for your time. So please, just let it rest. I've given up on ever getting myself out of here, and you should too.'\n\n'Yeah, giving up isn't really my thing, Winston,' I told him, standing up. 'I want the right person to go down for this. And no matter how much evidence there is against you, I really don't think that's you.'\n\n[ Hammers' House of Holidays ]\n\nAll I wanted to do from the second I left the interview room was head to Hunting Hill and find that mysterious mansion. But Finn had some objections, and they were mostly based on the fact that no one except for Winston had ever seen the house.\n\nHis solution was to let Winston stew in his cell overnight, to see if he still insisted the house was real in the morning. If he did, Finn promised me he would take a full team out there, including Winston, so he could point the place out.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Finn was probably right to wait, but it didn't stop me from wanting to throttle him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And when he did go out in search of the house tomorrow, he wasn't going to be the only one bringing a team.\n\nIn the meantime, I had other things to concern me, like the fact that I was absolutely hell-bent on proving Siobhan's guilt. So, after a late dinner (lemon sole, baby potatoes and asparagus, for those who'd like to know) I headed out with Cullen.\n\nWe took his flying motorcycle, partly so that I could have a bird's-eye view of the enclave, but mostly because I liked to find any excuse to go for a ride on that bike.\n\nAs we flew towards Desperation Row, Cullen said, 'I'm surprised you didn't ignore Finn and just head to the house.'\n\n'I'm surprised too,' I admitted. 'It could be two for one, as far as mystery-solving goes, couldn't it? We could find out about you and Jude and your reaction to the musical plum, we could even find a pillar for Hamish if it's the house Foirfe told me about. But Ned has her usual work to do tonight, so Hamish, Jude and Eva are going to use the time to prepare for – well, for whatever we might find tomorrow.'\n\nVery few people knew about the important role that Ned played in this enclave. It was her job to row on the canal each night, performing a ritual to keep Samhain Street safe from some ancient, evil demons. We helped her out as much as we could; we'd trained hard and devised shifts so that she could take the occasional night off. But none of us could do quite the job that she could. Tonight, Jay had gone out with her, and I'd done my best not to make suggestive comments as they left.\n\n'Plus,' I added, 'There isn't actually a house where Winston says there is, so… that kind of puts a spanner in the works. He didn't seem like he was lying. He probably just got the area wrong. I mean, he has to be the most stressed man in the enclave right now, doesn't he? Still, first thing tomorrow morning, we'll see if he's right or not.'\n\nCullen slowed the bike to a stop, leaving it hovering in the air just above Desperation Row, and twisted in his seat to face me. 'Katy, you were eating so fast that I couldn't understand a lot of what you said over dinner. So now, I'm wondering: what are you talking about? Of course Winston is right. I've seen the abandoned mansion he's talking about, and it's exactly where he says it is.'\n\n'Huh?' I tapped my knuckles lightly against my boyfriend's forehead. 'Is everything okay in that skull of yours, Cullen? There's no house there. I mean, I think I would have noticed it, seeing as we spent all that time at the Lodge with that whole Denton Montrose and Debbie McGinty thing. And why would it be abandoned, anyway? Property in that area sells so quickly at the moment – it's almost as if there are more evil villains with money to spare than ever. Even that horrible Lodge sold for a fortune recently, when the Criminal Assets Bureau auctioned it off.'\n\nThe world seemed a little unbalanced at that moment (and not just because I was on a flying bike with nothing to hold me there but magic). While I felt sure that Cullen was the one with a screw loose, he was looking at me as though I was missing an entire box of screws.\n\nAfter enduring our staring contest for a few seconds more, he shook his head and said, 'You know what? You're probably right. Maybe I'm thinking of somewhere else. For now, we ought to be focusing on this case, and the fact that you really really want Siobhan to be the killer, when all of the evidence points to Winston.'\n\n'I stand by my unsubstantiated accusations,' I said.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'And I applaud your stubbornness.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "[ooc] Word restriction: Use 'house' 2 time(s) only [ooc]",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I also think that there are way more suspects to consider. I know that the wife apparently has an alibi for the time of the murder, but if I were Finn I'd be seriously scrutinizing that alibi. I told him as much, too. I also told him we ought to investigate Jennifer.'\n\n'Jennifer? Who the fluff is Jennifer?'\n\n'Jennifer Hammer. The owner of Hammers' House of Holidays, which just so happens to be a couple of buildings away from Giles's workshop. Oh, and she also happens to be Giles's sister. Giles grew up in the Hammer coven.'\n\nI shivered. 'Yeah, I saw that shop. It's an unfortunate name, isn't it?'\n\n'Is it? Why?'\n\n'Well, you know that there's a whole series of creepy TV programmes in the human world called Hammer House of Horror, right?'\n\n'I did not know that, and the Hammer coven would be mortified to know about it. They've been toymakers for centuries. Horror is not their thing.'\n\n'Really? The stuff in the shop looked crappy enough to feature in many a holiday nightmare. So why is Jennifer a suspect, then?'\n\n'Well, Jennifer isn't a chatty woman. She doesn't often confide in anyone – except, that is, for her friendly neighbourhood barman.' He shot me a cocky grin. 'Which is how I know that she hates her brother, and even though she never told me exactly why her products have gone downhill in recent years, she did say, after a few too many drinks, that her brother is to blame. So… I asked Finn if you and I could go check out the attic to see if there was anything else interesting up there. Like a way for Jennifer to sneak through from her shop to Giles's office, leaving nary a trace of magic behind.'\n\nHe settled the bike down into the yard behind Tinsleys', and the officer on the back door gave Cullen a smirk and said, 'Captain Plimpton said you'd be coming.'\n\nCullen responded with a grunt, and we went inside.\n\n'What was that smirk about?' I asked as we headed up the steps to the workshop.\n\n'Oh, y'know – Finn thinks I just love being a Wayfarer, that I can't keep away. No doubt he's got some bets on back at the station as to when I'll make a full return.'\n\nThe building was eerie this late at night, with all of the half-finished toys on workbenches. As we walked over a creaky floorboard, some of the snow globes on a nearby shelf began to play holiday tunes. 'Well, you can't keep away, he's not wrong about that,' I said, skedaddling past the snow globes and rushing in to Giles's office.\n\n'It's got nothing to do with being a Wayfarer, Katy.' As he caught up with me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. 'And it's got everything to do with spending time with you.'\n\nAfter enjoying a quick kiss (all right, I admit it, it was an incredibly long one), I pulled away and returned to business, pointing up at the attic's entrance.\n\n'It'd be pretty easy to get out of the attic, seeing as Giles has an enormous couch placed right beneath it,' I mused, as I stood on the back of Giles's couch and eased open the attic door.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'The couch would make a nice soft landing, wouldn't it? But you'd have to be agile and strong to hoist yourself back up once you'd done whatever it was you came here for.'\n\nWhile I spoke, I realised that I was neither strong nor agile. With Cullen's help, and some red-faced puffing, I managed to finally pull myself up and into the attic. I moved back while he nimbly hoisted himself up behind me.\n\n'It'd definitely be easy for a guy,' he agreed. 'Or – and you can bet that the prosecution will point this out – a werewolf who happened to be squatting in another attic joined to this one.'\n\n'Yeah.' My voice sounded ever so depressed as I took a look around. 'Well, I'll just have to do my best to find something that suggests otherwise.'\n\nThere wasn't much up here, and there were walls built between this and the attics on either side, but at each side as the attic sloped down, there were gaps, just as the Wayfarers had discovered. I wouldn't have been able to make it through myself, but Winston didn't have my chest and rear end to contend with. He could have easily shimmied through.\n\n'It's just like I thought,' said Cullen as he peered through to the gap. 'You can get into any attic on Desperation Row, as long as you're skinny enough. Which Jennifer definitely is.'\n\n'All righty then,' I said with some reluctance. 'But you know I'm just humouring you, right? It couldn't have been Giles's sister. Because it was Siobhan.'\n\nCullen chuckled. 'And as I said before, I applaud you for your stubbornness. Come on, let's make our way through.'\n\n'Yay.' My eyes lit up. 'I'll get to use my glamour cloak again.' I pulled it from my bag, wondering if I would ever get sick of the items Aunt Jude had gifted me in the Toolkit. I unscrewed the toggle, switching Wanda Wayfair's hair for Valerian's. Then, donning the cloak, I whispered:\n\n'I wish for mine own self to hide\n\nWithin this cloak, the means may lie.'\n\nAfter a few uncomfortable moments, I was once again transformed into Valerian, and with her thinner body, I knew I'd be able to make it through the gap.\n\nAs I squeezed through I looked back at Cullen. 'I think you might have a bit of trouble, what with that great big manly chest of yours. I only just got through as Valerian. Do you want my cloak?'\n\n'Oh, I don't need that.' He wiggled his finger, pointed at the space that led from this attic into the next and said, 'Leathnaigh.' Instantly, the small gap expanded, and he followed me through.\n\n'Was that a widening spell?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I shook my head in disbelief.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Why didn't you tell me you could do one of those?'\n\n'Well, you looked so adorably determined to use your glamour cloak, and I didn't want to ruin your fun. I know a lot of spells that can get me in and out of places that I ought not be. Oh, and I can also scramble my magical signature while I do it. Being a former criminal has its uses.'\n\n'I'll remember that for next time I want to break in somewhere,' I said as we made our way through the attic above Aim Low, and then squeezed through to the next attic, the one above Hammers' House of Holidays.\n\n'I hear voices,' Cullen whispered, pointing to the door in the floor. 'Women's voices.' He wiggled his finger and, in a whisper, he said:\n\n'See true and see clear\n\nThis floor shall not stop us\n\nSee now and see here\n\nWhile no one shall spot us.'\n\nThe floor below us became see-through, and we found ourselves looking into a large office. There were two women in that room, and they didn't seem to notice us.\n\nOne of them was surely Theresa Tinsley, Giles's wife. Looking at her, I could see how true it was that he'd picked women who looked just like Theresa to work with him. She was incredibly pretty, and more than a little bit elvish-looking.\n\n'Well, we did it, Jennifer,' Theresa said to the other woman. 'We got rid of him for good.'\n\nJennifer, a thin woman with long blonde hair, looked uneasily at her companion. 'Yeah. He's gone. And now I have everything I wanted. I just wish I didn't feel so guilty about the fact that Winston is taking the blame.'\n\n[ An Inventor of Lies ]\n\n'Fluff it anyway!' I glared at Cullen. 'I don't like to admit that I'm wrong and you're right but… maybe Jennifer is a suspect.'\n\n'Seems that way,' he agreed. 'Maybe Theresa is, too. But believe me, Katy – in this instance, I am not happy to be right. Let's head down there and see what they have to say for themselves. On one, two…'\n\nOn the count of three, Cullen and I ripped open the door separating the attic from the office below. Pointing my wand, I cried, 'Conáil,' before I jumped down into the room. I didn't make the most graceful of landings, it must be said. But I didn't break anything, so I was going to consider it a success.\n\n'Valerian?' Jennifer frowned. My freezing spell wasn't extremely strong. They couldn't scarper, but they could talk. I wouldn't be able to hold them for long with that spell, so I reached into my bag and placed my hand on my ropes.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "If they made a move, I'd be ready.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'And… the guy who runs the Bank?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Oh.' I pulled off the glamour cloak that they couldn't see, unscrewing the toggle and saying:\n\n'Hide no more so all shall see\n\nMy true face, the real me.'\n\n'Katy Kramer?' Jennifer's frown increased. 'The private investigator? Why were you disguised as Valerian?'\n\n'I've been hired by Winston Wolfe to clear his name,' I informed her. It wasn't the worst untruth I'd ever told. Winston might have hired me, if he'd had the money. Anything was better than admitting I was an undercover Wayfarer. 'And after hearing this little conversation… well, you can see how it might make me suspicious, right?'\n\nHer eyes widened. 'Oh. You think… you think I killed my brother. Well, I mean, don't get me wrong, I did think about it. Many times. After all, Giles ruined my life. Me and Theresa have even had a couple of drunken conversations where we planned how we would get rid of him for good. But we never would have done anything to put those plans into motion. It was just crazy, drunken ramblings. Right, Theresa?'\n\nTheresa nodded. 'Right. Although… there are one or two things I should probably tell you.'\n\nWe stared at Giles's widow. My freezing spell had well and truly worn off, but neither she nor Jennifer had tried to leave the office. Theresa ambled towards a couch and took a seat, and Jennifer joined her.\n\n'If you were spying on us from the attic,' Theresa said, crossing her legs and looking at us, 'then I can see why you'd think we had something to do with my husband's death. Like Jennifer says, we wanted him gone, we even fantasised about it. And now, although neither of us actually killed him, well… he's definitely gone.'\n\nHer voice was beginning to crack, and Jennifer asked in a tentative voice, 'Could you give her some water, please? There's a bottle and some glasses on the sideboard.'\n\nI fetched some water for Theresa, and after taking a few sips, she began to speak again.\n\n'Jennifer and I didn't talk much over the years,' she told us. 'Giles always told me that his sister was crazy. That she'd tried to steal his inventions, and his idea for a Christmas shop. For years, I believed his version of events. But recently… recently I discovered something that changed my mind.'\n\nHer hands were shaking as she took another drink. 'There are certain toys – our bestsellers – that we don't make at the main workshop. Giles creates them at home, in his private room. Our flying trains and sleighs and reindeer… he always said he didn't trust anyone else with those designs.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So he often works late at night at home, making them in secret.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I… I'd been feeling as though things were different with us for a while. I wanted to spend more time with him, to make things better. I thought… I thought that if I could help him with his work, it would bring us closer again. I'm a trained toymaker, too. So one night, I brought some hot milk to his private workshop, ready to make the suggestion.'\n\nShe looked at Jennifer with what could only be described as a look of pure apology. 'That's when I found out that Jennifer wasn't crazy, like Giles had always said. That night, I discovered that everything I thought I knew was a lie. Because when I walked in, Giles dropped a notebook in fright. I went to pick it up, and he tried to snatch it back from me so forcefully that he bruised my arm.'\n\nShe sat up straight. 'Well, I definitely wasn't going to let go after that, was I? And I soon discovered why he was so keen to get it back. Because that notebook wasn't Giles's. It was Jennifer's. Her name was scrawled on the inside cover. There were little hearts and flowers with Jennifer Loves Bramley written there, too. And every single design, everything Giles said that he'd invented, all of the spells to imbue the toys with magic, the special kinds of wood necessary, clear instructions on how to put it all together. It was all there, and it was all Jennifer's. She'd even scrawled out her plans to create a new business for the Hammer Coven, called Hammers' Toys and Winter Wonderland.'\n\nJennifer took in a deep breath, and then said, 'What Theresa found was one of the many notebooks I filled up when I was just a teenager. She finally knew that I'd been telling the truth all along. Giles's inventions were really mine.'\n\n'Did you get the idea in the human world?' I asked. 'For the Winter Wonderland?'\n\nJennifer looked confused, so I said, 'Well I mean, there are lots of Christmas shops open all year round over there.'\n\n'Really?' She smiled. 'Wow, that sounds amazing. But no, the inspiration came to me because of my teenage boyfriend, Bramley. He's a weredog, and he loves Christmas. I think I might have invented everything I ever invented just to make him happy.' She fell silent, and the room seemed to fill with a strange weight.\n\n'Times have changed now,' said Theresa, taking up the story. 'But when Giles and Jennifer were teenagers, it was illegal for a weredog to date a witch. And you can't just make a rule like that without having something in place to make people follow it. Bramley and Jennifer are married now, and they're very happy together. But… back then, if their relationship had been discovered, Bramley could have been put into jail or a workhouse, depending on how lenient the judge was. Jennifer wouldn't have been punished, being a witch, but Giles knew that she would do anything to protect Bramley. He…'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She stopped for a moment, gritting her teeth, her nostrils flaring with anger. 'It seems my husband knew about his little sister's relationship for a while. He'd gathered evidence. Made sure he had plenty of proof to blackmail her with. He told Jennifer that if she didn't give him the credit for all of her inventions and ideas, he'd inform the authorities about her relationship with Bramley.'\n\nJennifer brushed away a tear. 'There was nothing I could do except give it all to him. He… he was good at following instructions, my brother. He could make something if you told him how, but he didn't have ideas of his own. But now, he had my ideas, and he used them to worm his way into the Tinsley coven, and to impress Theresa. I hated him for it. I mean, I would have gone into business with him. A partnership. I offered that, but he didn't want to share. He wanted everything.'\n\nShe blew her nose before continuing. 'When the rules changed, and my relationship with Bramley was finally legal, we married, and I no longer had anything to fear. So I told people what Giles had done. I told our parents, my coven. I told Theresa. But… no one believed me. Giles had charmed them all.'\n\n'Me, especially.' Theresa grasped Jennifer's hand. 'My husband… he could make me believe that the sky was green and the grass was blue if he'd wanted to. He might not have been good at inventing toys, but he was a very talented inventor of lies. And I was so absolutely and utterly in love with him that I swallowed every lie he told. Until the night I saw Jennifer's notebook, and saw exactly how worried Giles was when I opened it up. Oh, he made excuses, and because it was Giles, his version of events was incredibly convincing. But even so, a couple of days later, I went to talk with Jennifer.'\n\n'Theresa still sort of believed Giles, I think,' said Jennifer. 'Or… she wanted to, anyway. But I made some stuff in front of her, stuff that I'd invented and Giles had taken the credit for, and when she saw how skilled I was, and I showed her some of my newer inventions, it was obvious that I'd never been the liar.'\n\nCullen poured himself some water and sat on the sideboard. 'So why don't you make your own toys now, if your inventions are so awesome? Everything you sell in your shop is… well…'\n\n'Kind of crappy?' Jennifer let out a snort of laughter. 'Yeah. Yeah, it is. I opened it because I thought I had nothing to fear from Giles anymore. But… he came to see me and threatened me once again. He told me that he had everyone that mattered eating out of his hands. That he had friends in high places.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That he'd sue me for ripping off what he called his designs.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "OOC, IMPORTANT: 'nights' should appear 4 times in total",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He actually said that last part with a straight face.'\n\nTears began to spill down her cheeks, falling into her lap. 'It sounds ridiculous. Here I am, a grown woman, with nothing to hide anymore. But Giles, he bullied me the whole time we were kids. And he always got away with it. People always believed him over me. You think you can get over being bullied like that, but I think maybe it always stays with you. Because when he threatened me again I completely caved. And I think I knew his threats weren't empty, either. Not when we were kids, and not now. I've heard so many stories about him, about how he treats people. I could totally see him going to any lengths to shut my business down. So I scaled back my plans and just sold junk. As soon as I made enough money to pay off the loans I'd taken out, I probably would have closed up shop again and run away with my tail between my legs.'\n\nTheresa shuffled close to Jennifer and squeezed her hand. 'Jennifer is right when she says that I didn't want to believe her when I first came to talk. I really didn't. But I couldn't deny that the things she said made sense of many things that hadn't made sense before. Especially when, after we had shared two bottles of red wine together, she told me about Giles's affairs. All of the things I'd been denying, ignoring… I couldn't overlook them anymore. It was obvious for so long, and now I was finally ready to admit that my husband was a dirty lying cheat. We had yet another bottle, and we started to make plans. I decided that I was going to go to the coven, and have Giles kicked out. I was going to make sure Jennifer received full credit for her inventions, and I was going to be her financial backer in her own chain of stores. We… well, we might have even talked about how we would love to shove him down a flight of stairs.'\n\nTheresa cleared her throat. 'The thing is, once you learn that the person you love has been lying to you, that your whole relationship has been a sham, the feeling is… unimaginable. I wasn't just heartbroken. I was so, so angry. But after a few nights of talking things over with Jennifer, my anger cooled, and we just… made our plans for a better life, without Giles. But a couple of nights ago, maybe… two nights before Giles was killed, I left Jennifer's place after one of those nights of planning, and I ran into yet another woman who had some truths to tell of her own. A woman called Siobhan.'\n\nShe laughed bitterly. 'I don't think Siobhan even remembers our little interaction. She was sozzled, so she was. She told me all about how my husband was having an affair with her, and that she'd believed they were going to get married. She said she'd gone to surprise him that night, but she'd found him with Janine instead. I already knew about Janine and Siobhan, thanks to Jennifer, but I let Siobhan prattle on. She told me how she now suspected that Giles had fired Winston Wolfe just to clear the way for him and Janine – Giles told me he fired Winston for thieving, but that was just another of his lies.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Anyway, Siobhan was so drunk that she even let me take her home to her flat and tuck her into bed.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And that's when things took a very silly turn.'\n\nTheresa squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before carrying on. 'She told me… she told me she was planning on killing Giles and setting up Winston Wolfe. She went into graphic detail about how she was going to do it all. She was so drunk that I doubt she remembers telling me. But there was something about her. A coldness in her eyes. When she told me about her plan, I thought: she means it. She really was going to kill Giles and set up poor Winston Wolfe. And in that moment, I… I decided to let her do it.'\n\nCullen frowned. 'Did I just hear you right? Siobhan told you she was going to kill Giles, and set Winston up, and instead of calling the Wayfarers, you decided to let her go ahead with it?'\n\nHer face flushed, and she gave Jennifer a sidelong glance. 'I know that when you and I made our drunken plans to shove him down a flight of stairs, that we didn't really mean it. But that night, my rage reared its ugly head once again. This woman, this Siobhan. She'd been to my house. I'd welcomed her in, like a fool. And she… she laughed at me. She got right up in my face and laughed at me, and told me that Giles thought I was getting uglier with age.'\n\n'You have to know that's not true.' Jennifer shook her head, looking flabbergasted. 'You're stunning, Theresa.'\n\n'I…' Theresa swallowed. '… I didn't feel it. Not then. I stared back at this woman, and I saw how much she looked like me, but a younger version. It all began to feel so sordid. So strange. I thought I couldn't hate Giles any more. But I did. And I hated Siobhan, too. She was so nasty, so cruel. And I… well, I was pretty darn drunk myself. So I thought: why not? Why not let her do it? Giles deserves it.'\n\nI glared at her. 'But Winston doesn't.'\n\n'Well, no. He doesn't.' She met my eyes. 'That's why, in the heat of the moment, I decided to make sure that, if Siobhan did go ahead with it, she wouldn't get away with it. I did… I did some things, that night and the next day, to make sure she would get the blame.'\n\nI shook my head in amazement.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'You made those calls to my office, didn't you?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Your response should contain the word 'drunk' precisely 3 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You set up an appointment for Siobhan. You wrote it into her diary. To make it look like she had suspicions about Giles, and to cast suspicion on her.'\n\n'Yes, yes, I did all of that, and I cleaned up any trace of being in her flat, too, because I knew she wouldn't remember. Siobhan has an incredibly annoying way of pronouncing schedule, so it wasn't hard to pretend to be her. But then… then as time passed, I calmed down again, and I realised how silly I was being. I convinced myself that she wouldn't really murder Giles, would she? She'd been so drunk. That's all it was. Just drunken ramblings. She wouldn't go through with any of it. So then I… I called you again, to cancel the appointment that never was.'\n\nI tilted my head to the side, regarding her. 'But that makes no sense, Theresa. Because Giles was already dead by then.'\n\nShe nodded. 'I know that now, but I didn't know it then. I'd been in meetings all morning with my coven. I'd told them the truth about Giles, and we were making our plans to kick him out of the coven and go into business with Jennifer instead. I made that call as soon as the meeting ended. I did it from a payphone, but as soon as I hung up, I saw that I had dozens of missed calls on my mobile from Jennifer and from other friends, all calling to tell me what had happened to Giles. And the way he died – my stars, it was almost exactly the way Siobhan told me she'd do it. She hadn't planned on the Christmas star – she'd told me she was going to cut down some of the wood in the yard, carve it into a spike and push him out the window. But it was close enough to the plan she'd described, and I was positive that she was behind it. I suppose when they threw out the star, it seemed like a more convenient weapon.'\n\nI wiped my eyes. I was too tired for this convoluted mess. 'So, let me get things straight. A couple of nights ago, you were so convinced that Siobhan was going to murder Giles and set Winston up that you decided to plant enough evidence to make sure Siobhan would, in fact, go down for the murder. A murder which you were perfectly happy to let her carry out, because you hated Giles.'\n\n'Well, yes, but…' Her voice had become incredibly quiet. 'But like I said, I was a little bit drunk. And crazy. And even when I was drunk and crazy enough to let her kill Giles, I would never have let Winston take the blame.'\n\n'Hm.' Cullen looked just as exhausted as I did. 'You've not been doing a very good job on that score though, have you? As things stand, the Wayfarers are convinced Siobhan is innocent. Winston's the one going down.'\n\n'I know.' She winced. 'That's what we were talking about, when you surprised us.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "We're going to go to the Wayfarers.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I'm going to explain everything, and make sure Winston's name is cleared.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He's suffered enough because of my husband.'\n\n'Okay.' I eyed the two women, trying to decide if their story made sense. I certainly didn't have an overwhelming desire to burn either of them at the stake, so that had to count for something. 'I'm kind of following this whole ridiculous mess. And your coven have said that you were with them at the time of Giles's murder. They didn't tell the Wayfarers what the meeting was about, mind you. But I've got to tell you, we had every intention of double-checking that alibi. And now, this looks incredibly dodgy for you both. Jennifer, what about you? What's your alibi for the time of Giles's death?'\n\nJennifer gave us a guilty glance, and she seemed to be about to say something, when Theresa cut across her. 'Jennifer was in the meeting with me and the Tinsley coven.'\n\n'No.' I shook my head. 'You said you had missed calls from Jennifer, telling you about Giles's death.'\n\nJennifer groaned, then said, 'It's all right, Theresa. I'm just going to tell them.'\n\n'No. No, you were with me,' Theresa insisted. 'Remember? You… you stepped out for some food, and you… you heard it on the news and then you…'\n\n'Stop it.' Jennifer laid a hand on Theresa's arm. 'Just stop trying to cover my tracks. Unless we tell them everything, they're not going to believe a word we say.' She took in a deep, deep breath before continuing. 'When I heard the girls scream about Giles falling out the window, I was in my own shop. No one can confirm that, but I was there. But… a few minutes before that, I was in the attic directly above Giles's office. I was there to take pictures, and to plant cameras, listening devices, you name it. Theresa and I wanted to record Giles in the act with Janine and Siobhan so that he couldn't squeeze too much money out of Theresa in their divorce settlement.'\n\n'But there are no devices there,' I said. 'The Wayfarers would have found them.'\n\n'Well, I didn't plant any in the end, did I? I chickened out and panicked, because I could hear people below, so I was afraid they'd hear me and catch me.' She sat up straighter and crossed her legs. 'That's the thing, you see. It was a woman I heard, down there with Giles. And they were arguing.'\n\nTheresa shook her head. 'Don't tell them, Jennifer, please.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "You got it wrong.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was Siobhan you heard arguing with him.'\n\n'No. No, I didn't get it wrong. I know you're convinced that Siobhan is guilty, Theresa – and I agree, she's cold behind the eyes – but it wasn't Siobhan that Giles was arguing with. It was Janine.'\n\n[ With Stories as Strange as These ]\n\n'How's it looking?' asked Cullen, idly glancing at the screens. We were in Finn's office, and he'd turned on the feed from three different interview rooms, so we could watch as Jennifer, Theresa and Janine gave their separate statements.\n\n'How's it looking?' Finn gave us a bleary-eyed stare. 'How's it looking? More confusing than ever, that's how it's looking. You know, half an hour ago I was in a warm bed, asleep with my girlfriend. Now… now I feel like the two of you have pulled me into the most random, most annoying nightmare ever had.'\n\n'If it's any consolation,' I said, 'we find it equally annoying. But… how is it looking?'\n\nHe let out a growl-like noise, before saying, 'Well, while the two of you were off getting yourselves cups of tea, Janine admitted that she argued with Giles shortly before he died. No one saw her entering or leaving the office, but they wouldn't, would they, if they were all heading for their tea break? Oh, and she also admitted that she whacked him with the toy that Winston made. But she swears on Megan's life that she didn't shove him out the window.'\n\n'Huh?' I stared back at the captain. 'That's… I mean… how did she get the toy? Siobhan had it, then it apparently disappeared from her bag, right?' I looked at Cullen. 'Right?'\n\n'I think so,' Cullen said with a grunt. 'There are a few too many twists and turns for me to be absolutely certain, but yeah, I think so. Winston gave the toy to Siobhan, Siobhan swore that it disappeared from her bag, and that Winston must have stolen it when he broke into her flat. Only now, we know that Winston didn't break in – Theresa was the one who was in Siobhan's flat and who covered her tracks with a cleaning potion. But that doesn't explain how Janine wound up with the toy.'\n\n'Ah.' Finn folded his arms on his desk, using them as a pillow. 'I know the reason. Part of it, anyway. See, when Janine and Giles were canoodling a few nights ago, she heard a noise outside the office. She opened the door and she found the toy on the ground outside. She figured Winston must have left it there.'\n\n'I think it's much more likely that Siobhan dropped it,' I said. 'You know, when she was running off in anger, after hearing Giles and Janine.'\n\n'Well, we have no way of confirming that, do we?' Finn retorted. 'Seeing as Giles's business and all of the other businesses on Desperation Row have decided to do without CCTV.'\n\nI lifted my chin. 'No. But I'm sure.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And Janine must have thought so too – because otherwise, what was she arguing with Giles about just before he died?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Janine says they were arguing about Winston, actually,' said Finn. 'She says that once she had the toy in her hand for a day or two, she finally made herself look at how lovely it was, and she started to think a bit less selfishly about her husband. She says she finally realised that things were difficult for Winston, and she went to ask Giles if he was the one to blame – if he was keeping Winston from getting work anywhere else. But despite all of that, she still seems to believe Giles was seeing her, and only her, and she's made no indication that she thinks Siobhan could have dropped the toy that night, or been in any way involved. And for what it's worth, Jennifer has confirmed that. She says she couldn't hear it all when she was up in the attic, but she definitely heard enough to back up Janine's version of events.'\n\nI looked at the screen, and at Janine's face as she signed her statement. Bringing my Aurameter to my eye, I saw nothing to indicate her innocence. I'd seen nothing when I looked at Theresa and Jennifer, either. But I believed them, nonetheless. 'Yeah. Yeah, I believe that. I think Janine is just about deluded enough about Giles to still believe he really loved her.'\n\n'Okay, so who did it then?' asked Cullen. 'You still think it was Siobhan? Because with a bunch of stories as strange as these, I'm starting to think they were all in on it together. Maybe they created such a big mess on purpose, so that none of them could be convicted.'\n\n'Good theory, but no – Siobhan is the killer,' I insisted. 'Siobhan, and nobody else. The rest of them have been absolute idiots, but they're not killers.'\n\n'You can insist all you want, Katy, but there's still no evidence that you're right, is there?' Finn argued. 'And no, Theresa's strange story does not count as proof against Siobhan. If anything, it makes Theresa look guilty. But then she has an alibi for the time of death, so… it just confuses things even more. Hang on a minute.' Finn stopped to pick up the suddenly-ringing phone on his desk. He said a few brief words, ending with a groan of, 'No way. That shouldn't have happened, Todge,' before hanging up.\n\nHe very loudly cleared his throat and said, 'So. Winston Wolfe has just confessed to the murder.'\n\nI sat bolt upright, shaking my head. 'No. No. That can't be. Finn, that can't be. I heard you mention Todge's name. What has that jam-munching idiot done now? And why is he allowed to do anything in the first place?'\n\nI'd been relieved that, so far, Todge had absolutely nothing to do with this case. Ever since Todge had proved useless when we were almost killed on the Riddler's Express, Finn had promised me that the most idiotic Wayfarer of all would be receiving full retraining, and would be stuck on desk duty even after that.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Let's engage in a collaborative writing exercise. I'll provide a starting point (which may include pre-existing characters and lore), and You'll continue with twenty-nine sentences in the style of A. A. Albright.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I was awakened by the smell of bacon, followed by a woman's voice calling out, 'Breakfast is ready, everyone. Come and get it!'\n\n'Is that Diane?' I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. Diane and her father used to work together at the Bank. Her father, Derek, had owned the bar before he was murdered. But Cullen had been running it alone for a long time, and Diane and her mother had recently sold it to him.\n\nSoon, Diane's sing-song voice was joined by more voices. Still in our pyjamas, Cullen and I stumbled down from his flat and out into the bar. Diane was bringing out plates filled with bacon sandwiches and laying them on the bar in front of Hamish, Ned, Cleo and Jay, as well as Great-Aunt Jude and her daughter, Eva Moon.\n\n'I can hear someone in my kitchen!' Cullen cried. 'Who is it?'\n\nDiane waved a hand dismissively. 'Oh, that's my boyfriend. He's a chef.'\n\nNed looked up from her sandwich. 'I thought you said you were going out with a fireman.'\n\n'No, she started going out with a PE teacher after the fireman,' Cleo reminded Ned. 'Remember? He was doing burpees in the kitchen while Diane made him a smoothie?'\n\n'Oh, yeah.' Ned returned to eating. 'I'm not really fond of burpees.'\n\n'Oh, I dumped the PE teacher ages ago.' Diane grinned and began to pour the coffee. 'He only liked health food. It got boring. Dean is much more easygoing. He makes serious comfort food. Like these bacon sandwiches.'\n\nCullen gave Diane a glare. 'None of that explains why he's in my kitchen at eight in the morning. Or why you're here acting like you still own the place. You do remember how you and your mother sold it to me for well above the going rate, right?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Because I remember thinking that you were lucky to get a buyer at all.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Diane fixed him with what was probably an incredibly winning smile. For some reason, Cullen was one of the few men immune to her charms. She was a witch, but with siren and succubus genes added to the mix. She was both incredibly attractive and attracted to men. She'd undergone a lot of therapy to try and settle down, but if the latest run of boyfriends was anything to go by, it didn't seem like her therapy was working very well.\n\n'I know you own this place now, silly! I just thought I'd help out, so you could all get a nice early start at that creepy old mansion. And while you're gone, I'll run things here – that way you won't be worrying about this place, and you can concentrate on what matters. I phoned Ned last night and she told me all about it. There could be a Pillar of Permanence there, couldn't there?'\n\n'That's the hope,' said Jude, turning to me. 'Katy, you look exhausted. Are you sure you're up for this?'\n\n'Hey, if you are, so am I,' I replied, grabbing a sandwich. 'Aunt Jude…' I lowered my voice. 'You know the Intuition Interface on the Aurameter? Well, when it was yours, did it ever… well… there's a woman I suspect is behind this Giles Tinsley murder, and the image I see of her through the lens is kind of disturbing.'\n\nJude let out a dry chuckle. 'You mean you saw her burning in flames, am I right?'\n\nI nodded wordlessly, my mouth too full of bread and bacon to respond.\n\n'Well, yes. It happened to me when I had that Aurameter too, but thankfully not often. It's not easy being the good kind of hunter, Katy. Our instincts can be overpowering sometimes. But unlike your father and many others, you and I know that we can't arrest someone or punish them just because we have a feeling in our gut. For me, the witches I saw in flames were usually the ones that got away. I knew they were bad, bad witches, but I couldn't prove it. It was… frustrating, to say the least.'\n\n'Hm.' Ned had poured me some tea, and I took a good long drink. 'Well, I suppose for now, we'd better just focus on the house.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'You guys got my message last night, right?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 20 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned asked. 'Do you think my spell will work?'\n\n'We tested it,' Jude confirmed. 'Obviously we couldn't use an actual pillar, but it seems like it should work.'\n\n'Good.' Ned smiled with relief. 'In that case, I've brought along everything we need for it.'\n\n'Brilliant. And as for what Winston Wolfe says that this ghost whispered in his ear…' Jude shuddered. 'I know I need to remember something, and those little music boxes have made me all the more certain. But so far, my old memory banks just aren't telling me much. Maybe seeing this house will help. If we can see it.'\n\nWe all chatted and planned together for a while, until all of the food was finished. As I slurped the last of my tea, Cullen wrapped an arm around my waist and said, 'I'm going to go up and get dressed. We're meeting Finn on Hunting Hill in forty-five minutes.'\n\nI stood up, about to follow him, until I was distracted by Diane; she was jumping up and down behind the bar and clapping her hands. 'Yay! It's really happening. By the end of today, Hamish and I might be going on a real, actual date!'\n\nShe reached across the bar and scratched Hamish behind the ears. If his fur weren't so dark, I wondered if he might be blushing. My eyes moved to Eva, who was definitely reddening, and rushing off to the ladies' room. Getting dressed could wait a few more minutes.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "STORY CONTINUATION:\nLength: thirty-four sentences\nMaintain character context\nGenre: contemporary",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cleo was already at the front door when the rest of us caught up with her. It was ajar, and she snaked her way through and into the entrance hall with a cry of, 'Good goddess, this place is filthy.'\n\nHamish, Ned and I walked in next, gazing around. Cleo wasn't wrong. In the house's entrance hallway, I began to cough. The place was caked in dust and grime. Somewhere beneath it all, I could see garlands and wreaths made of holly and ivy, the leaves having browned and dropped to the floor long ago.\n\n'Winston was right. These are all typical Winter Solstice decorations,' Ned remarked. 'The wreaths, the greenery – well, the brownery now. But… I don't know. Something feels weird. The air is too… thick.'\n\n'Winston said it was like wading through mud,' I said.\n\n'Yeah.' Hamish nodded nervously. 'Yeah, it feels like that. Every step is exhausting.'\n\n'There's something else, though. You can hear it too, can't you Ned?' Cleo asked the question. 'A sort of background… harshness. Someone is trying to talk to us.'\n\n'I think you're right,' Ned told the cat. 'Someone is trying to communicate, but they're blocked somehow.' She peeped her head around the door at the others. 'What do you think? Should we stay or should we go?'\n\nJude snorted, and walked in with Eva and Jay. Cullen took in a deep breath, and crossed the threshold. And as soon as he did, the front door slammed behind him, and everything changed.\n\n[ In For a Sickle, In For a Round ]\n\nAll around us, the dust swirled away in a great big golden rush, leaving gleaming surfaces in its wake. The entire hallway was transformed. There was a fire crackling in the hearth, there were twinkling lights on the now-fresh wreaths and garlands, and there was a delicious smell in the air.\n\nBut, pretty though the house had become, I did not like being trapped. I rushed to check the door, unable to keep the panic from my voice as I announced, 'It's locked. And I'll bet every other door and window is, too.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jude nodded. 'An Insitu spell.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "We're stuck inside this house.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I always know when there's any sort of boundary spell around me because I feel instantly claustrophobic, even if I'm in an enormous space.'\n\n'It's not just the fact we could be locked in, though,' said Ned. 'As soon as that door slammed shut, whatever ghosts were here… they scarpered. I could feel them leave.'\n\nCleo nodded in agreement with her witch. 'They're still in here though. Just… hiding.'\n\n'On the plus side,' said Hamish, 'I don't think I've ever been trapped somewhere that smells so good, have you? I'm smelling… mulled wine.' He took in a good long sniff. 'A roasted goose, roast potatoes, stuffing, carrots and parsnips cooked with black pepper and honey. Brussels sprouts, parboiled, then fried off in the pan with bacon. Red cabbage. Sage and onion stuffing with…' He sniffed more deeply. 'With shredded apple and black pudding. There's a good old–fashioned Christmas pudding, too, soaked in alcohol. There's fresh cream, aged wine and…' He shuddered. 'There are some of those awful marrowfat peas, too. Talk about ruining a Christmas dinner.'\n\nCullen shook his head. 'But the Brussels sprouts you have no problem with?'\n\n'Not when they're cooked with bacon,' said Hamish. 'Oh, and speaking of bacon, I also smell a ham. Well, shall we try to send out a smoke signal to Finn, or shall we sally forth regardless?'\n\n'I don't think we're going to be getting in touch with anyone, actually,' said Jay, waving his phone in the air. 'It's completely dead.'\n\nWe all checked our phones, finding just the same: the screens were blank, and there was no way to turn them back on.\n\n'Well then.' Jude rubbed her palms together. 'In for a sickle, in for a round.'\n\n'Mm,' Eva said vaguely. She was standing at a table close to the front door, and she had a photograph in her hand. It was set within a beautiful silver frame. 'Maybe em… maybe you might want to take a look at this, Cullen.'\n\nWith a face filled with trepidation, Cullen took the photo from Eva. The rest of us stood nearby, taking a look. The picture was of a baby boy in his mother's arms. The woman was in a hospital bed, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and bliss.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(authors note, Your response should contain the word 'cullen' precisely 4 times)",
"loss": false
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had dark brown hair, and lovely blue eyes. There was a plate at the bottom of the frame, saying: Cuileann Montrose, Born December 1st, the Year of the Hamster, pictured in the loving arms of his mother, Caoimhe.\n\n'That's… that's the year you were born, isn't it?' Ned said in a quiet voice. 'If you… if you arrived at the orphanage at a few weeks old like Esme said, the year would be about right. And you… well, you were wearing that bib that said Cuileann when Esme found you…' She sounded more uncomfortable the longer she spoke. 'Of course, that doesn't mean anything.'\n\nCullen blanched. 'It doesn't. It doesn't mean a thing. I'm a Keats, not a Montrose. It even says so on the bottom of both of those musical plums. And there's no scar on this kid.'\n\n'You weren't born with that scar though, were you?' Cleo pointed out, looking at him through disparaging blue eyes. 'You and Katy have long established that it's covered in hunter magic.'\n\n'But still.' He crossed his arms. 'I'm not a Montrose.'\n\nThe cat shrugged. 'I can see why you'd want that to be the case. That Montrose lot are the worst coven in the world. Worse than the Berrys or the Plimptons, even.'\n\nNed glared at her familiar, and Cleo gave Cullen an innocent smile. 'Ever so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Cullen. I'm sure you're not a Montrose. Even if the evidence is really mounting up.'\n\n'It isn't!' Cullen cried. 'I mean… it is, I know it is. But there'll be another explanation. Look, here's what I think. My mother worked here, as a servant maybe. Something terrible happened to her, and I was left on the doorstep of the orphanage with some other kid's stuff. This Cuileann Montrose or Keats or whoever he is, he's nothing to do with me. Because I'm not… I can't be a Montrose.'\n\n'Sure. Maybe,' I said. My tone was more dubious than I'd intended, as I gazed around the hallway.",
"loss": true
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It had been so horrible in here – the remnants of a holiday from long, long ago. But as soon as Cullen walked in, everything was beautiful. And not only that, but the feeling we had when we first walked in – of wading through mud – that feeling was gone, now. It had disappeared as soon as Cullen crossed the threshold and the door closed behind him. His connection to this place was stronger than he was willing to admit. Once we ventured deeper into this house, we were going to discover some things, things he might not want to know. Things he—\n\n'Earth to Katy!' said Hamish, tapping his nose against my leg.\n\n'Hm?'\n\n'We've asked you three times if you want to head into the next room,' Jay said with a laugh. 'You inner monologue-ing again?'\n\nI politely cleared my throat. 'I don't know what you're talking about. But Jude's right – in for a sickle, in for a round. So let's just keep going.'\n\n[ Thorn in My Side ]\n\nThere was a grand staircase in the entrance hallway, and a few rooms leading off. There was a small study, a drawing room, a sun room, a billiard room, and even a small library. All of the rooms were stunning.\n\nIf Foirfe's voice had told me: 'You shall find it in summertime, in the house where it's always Winter Solstice' then I'd be very happy right now. But there are marked differences between Christmas and Winter Solstice, and this house was definitely decorated for the latter. All of the decorations were beautiful but natural-looking, in the witches' fashion. The twinkling lights weren't electric string lights, but perfectly-formed Solas spells. There was holly and ivy and mistletoe aplenty. There were logs blazing in fireplaces. But there was no Christmas tree, no presents, and no Santa ornaments to be found.\n\nWe arrived at a set of open double doors, and looked into the largest room yet: an oval-shaped ballroom, with dining tables all laid out for dinner, and a dancefloor at the centre. The ceiling was high, with clouds and stars painted upon it. The stars sparkled, and there were more magical lights all around the room.\n\nSome of those lovely Solas spells were encircling pillars.\n\nHamish's breath shuddered as he stared at the pillars. There were ten of them, four on either side of the room and two at the far end, creating little alcoves behind them. In some of those alcoves there were beautiful couches and chairs, in others there were doorways leading into more rooms. I saw another library, larger than the one we'd seen before, and a comfortable-looking sitting room with yet another fire blazing in the hearth. Only one of the doorways, the black door between the pillars right at the other end, was closed, but it looked to me to be a swinging door – perhaps the kitchen was back there?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As for the pillars, they looked to be made of marble, stretching from floor to ceiling.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The pillar on the Riddler's Express had looked nothing like these; yes, it had been spinning fast when I saw it, but I'd seen the dust beneath the train after I smashed it, and it wasn't marble, but a much plainer-looking stone.\n\n'It looks like a dinner party was interrupted by a fight or something,' Jay remarked. 'Some of the chairs are knocked back.'\n\nReluctantly, I tore my attention from the pillars. Jay was right. There were chairs knocked to the ground, as though people had quickly left their seats. There was shattered glass on some of the tables, too, and next to the chairs. People had dropped their drinks in shock, maybe? But the mess around the tables was nothing compared to the mess at the very centre of the room.\n\nIt looked as though the dancefloor had been used for fighting, not dancing. There was more smashed glass, too. Some chairs were sitting at odd angles on the floor. Had they been thrown at something? Or someone? There was a dropped platter, some knives…\n\n'Yeah, it's all very strange and everything,' said Cullen. 'But for now, can we focus on what's most important? What about those pillars, guys? Are they what we're looking for?'\n\n'None of them look like a Pillar of Permanence,' Hamish said sadly, echoing my earlier thoughts. 'And look at the food on the tables. Caviar. Steak tartare. Profiteroles. Champagne, port, brandy… it's got the makings of a very fine party, but it's not the delicious Christmas dinner I could smell from the entrance hall. Although…' He sniffed. 'I can still smell that food. But… maybe it's just wishful sniffing. I would love for this to be the house Foirfe told Katy about but… it's just not, is it?'\n\nHamish stood up straight and shook his furry body. 'But not to worry. We'll find that house another day. For now, we need to figure out the mystery of those musical plums, and what this house has to do with Cullen.'\n\nCullen sighed. 'What about you, Jude? You've been looking a little dazed since we walked in here. Are you remembering anything? Because I'm not – although, considering what we've found so far, I'm not sure I want to discover much more.'\n\n'Hm?' Jude snapped her attention away from the dancefloor. 'No. No, I don't remember anything.",
"loss": true
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "But I do have a very strong sense of Déjà vu.'\n\n'Well then.' Hamish nodded decisively. 'Let's get to figuring out why. This might not be the house where it's always Christmas, but we've still got a mystery to solve.'\n\n'Hey.' Eva bent down to Hamish's level and looked him in the eye. 'We have a lot more rooms left to check in this great big – and clearly magical – house. I'm not giving up on finding the right pillar in one of them, so you'd better not either.'\n\nHe let out a shy-sounding laugh. 'We'll go take a look at some of the other rooms, so.'\n\nAs the others headed off, I called out, 'Hang on a second, will you? Just… just a second. Because… well… because look at this.' I held up my hand so that they could all see the mark on my palm. The curling, coil-like mark was no longer a faded-silver scar; it was a white-hot, snaking river of metal, spinning on my palm. I clasped my hand shut, wincing at how much pain that simple action had caused. 'It's spinning a lot, don't you think? Like if we look at it too long, we'll be hypnotised?'\n\nI let out an awkward-sounding laugh. 'So… anyway… you guys should go off and search the other rooms if you want, but I'm going to stay and take a closer look at the pillars in here, and see which one takes the pain from excruciating to oh my gosh I think I'm gonna die.'\n\nThey didn't leave the ballroom; instead the others followed me, wordlessly and worriedly, as I walked from pillar to pillar, finally pausing at the two columns at the end of the room. As I neared the left of those two, I felt a pure and unignorable pain.\n\n'You know what, I think this one is a bit different,' said Jay, pointing up near the top of the pillar. 'Doesn't it look like the marble is cracking up there, like it might actually be a plainer stone column underneath?'\n\n'You're right, Jay.' Ned knocked on that pillar, then on the one next to it. 'These others are solid marble, I think. This one just has a marble façade.'\n\nI was about two feet from the cracked pillar now, and the pain was shooting inwards from my hand, creeping up along my arm and coursing through my entire body. I wanted to look at the magic of the pillar, so that I could be sure of what the pain was telling me: that we had finally, after all of this time, found a Pillar of Permanence; that we could at last break the spell upon Hamish. 'Jude, I'm a little bit sore right now. Could you, maybe…?'\n\n'Use my new Aurameter?' said Jude as I glanced back at her. 'Already on it.' She brought the lens to her eye and said, 'Katy, when you were on that train, did the magic around the pillar look sort of like… bramble?'\n\n'No, it… well, it was spinning too fast and I was kind of trying to stop us all from dying by the time I saw it, so I'm not completely sure,' I admitted. 'But I think the hammer I used to break it became possessed by Foirfe's magic, just as I did.",
"loss": true
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That magic was… white hot, like the mark on my palm.'\n\n'Your hair went multi-coloured though,' Hamish reminded me.\n\n'Well, something tells me there's every colour of the rainbow in that woman's magic, to be honest,' I said. 'And there was silver magic on the train, too, like a thread in the air from the Immortal coil.'\n\n'Well, this isn't like any of that,' said my aunt. 'This is definitely more like bramble.'\n\n'Huh.' I reached out, touching my palm against the pillar. As soon as I did, the pain disappeared, and I felt… at peace. In unity with the pillar. I felt that it was mine, and I was its, and together we could accomplish anything.\n\n'Ow!' I jumped back from the pillar, suddenly feeling pain again, but a pain much, much different to what I'd felt before. 'This pillar has just shot a bloody thorn into my side!'\n\n[ So Close and Yet So Far Away ]\n\nA torrent of thorns shot themselves from the pillar, shooting out in all directions, piercing everything in sight. We all ran back, as the thorns began to follow us.\n\nWe tried to head for the black door closest to the pillars, but the thorns came faster when we ran that way, sending us dashing and darting all over the ballroom, finally making it into the large library and shutting the door behind us. For a few seconds, the rain of thorns continued to assault the library door. As it quickly petered out I stood up, peeking through the glass panelling of the door and taking my Aurameter to my eye.\n\nThere was shining golden magic, dancing through the air all over this house, like a witch's or a wizard's, but there was something else too. This other magic was like long, invasive branches of copper-coloured bramble, with leaves and thorns included. Whatever it was, it was at its highest concentration all around the pillar, but thinner shoots were stretching outwards, and seemed to invade every part of the room – perhaps even all of the rooms beyond.\n\nWhile I studied the magic, Cullen and Ned were gently pulling the thorn from my side, and Ned was pointing one of her healing wands, quickly closing up the gash. I looked back at the thorn, sitting in Ned's palm, but it faded in front of my eyes.\n\nHamish, who had been pulling thorns from one of his legs with the use of his mouth, said, 'They've all gone. Every single thorn is gone, like they were never there.'\n\n'The thorns in the ballroom have disappeared too,' I observed. 'But I have the feeling they'll soon come out to play again if we try to approach the pillar. What we felt just now, I think it was a warning shot.'\n\n'So the magic, you think it's a protection spell?' Jay asked. 'To keep us away from the pillar?'\n\n'I'm not sure.' I flopped onto the ground, my back against the library door, resting for a moment. 'It doesn't look like any protection spell I've seen, but it's definitely acting like one. It's whatever else it might be doing that I'm worried about. Because the way this magic is threading through the air and reaching out, it reminds me of the magic on the Riddler's Express – the way the Immortal Coil reached out to all of us, but was also bound to the pillar.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Except this magic looks different.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like a metallic bramble infestation, without the tasty blackberries. It doesn't seem to be trying to strangle the life out of us, though, so I guess… small mercies.'\n\n'There'll be nae mercy if we cannae get near that pillar though, will there?' Hamish hung his head.\n\nCleo rubbed herself up against him. 'So close, and yet so far away. It must be awful for you, Hamish. You know who'd be able to sort this out for us? The Queen of the Sióga. She'd have that magic broken in a flash.'\n\nNed gave her familiar a warning glare. 'Cleo, if I were you I'd keep very, very quiet right now.'\n\nShe needn't have worried. Hamish didn't look likely to argue with Cleo at the moment. He was panting hard, his entire body jerking with every movement he made.\n\n'Here.' Cullen took a bottle of water from my bag, pouring it into an enormous (but thankfully clean) ashtray, and bringing it to Hamish. 'Have a drink, mate. You don't look good.'\n\nHamish lapped up the water, but didn't look much better for it.\n\n'Have you eaten today?' asked Jay. 'I know you didn't want to have the bacon because of… well… but did you eat something at least?'\n\nHamish was quiet for a moment, before finally revealing, 'No, no I havnae eaten properly for a while now. I couldnae stomach much of the dog food, and I suppose that our little escape attempt just now might have taken what energy I had.' He waved a paw. 'It's all right, honestly. I spoke to Healer Little, and he said that I can have some plain chicken and rice, so I'll have some of that when we get out of here. No doubt Finn and the Queen have realised we're in here and they're working to get us out.'\n\n'What?' I stared at him. 'I mean, yeah, that'd be great but… this isn't over, Hamish. As soon as the Queen gets in here and breaks whatever magic it is, we'll be reversing your spell. You can eat anything you like, then. Actually, no.' I took an energy bar from my bag, unwrapped it and passed it his way. 'You should eat now. Because we're going to win this, I know we are.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He was still panting, but he took the bar and nibbled a little bit of it before saying, 'Sure.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Of course we are.'\n\nWhile we were comforting Hamish, there'd been a whole lot of clinking and clanking from Eva and Jude, as they pawed through Eva's purse. Judging by how long it was taking them to find whatever they were looking for, I suspected that Eva's purse was bigger on the inside.\n\nFinally, Eva and Jude found what they were looking for and began to place some items on the floor: a glass tube, and a large metal pot with a clamped lid and a hole on the top.\n\n'What is that?' asked Ned.\n\n'It's for siphoning magic,' Eva explained. 'It's… it's sort of like a channelling spell, for when a channelling spell is too dangerous. Like when you have no idea what the magic will do to you, but you need to get it out of the way. It's not a permanent solution, and it won't take all of the magic. But hopefully it'll take enough, so we can get near the pillar and use it for Hamish.'\n\nShe placed one end of the tube into the hole on the lid of the large pot, and gently shook. I could see now that the tube wasn't actually made of glass – or, if it was, then it was an incredibly pliable glass with the ability to grow and twist. As the tubing lengthened and stretched out from the pot, it rushed towards the library door.\n\nCarefully, Eva opened the door just a few inches, and the tubing raced into the ballroom, heading straight for the pillar and winding itself around it. I could see tiny sucker-like holes opening on the inner part of the tubing.\n\n'Phew. It's actually starting to siphon.' Eva wiped her forehead. 'Don't you just love it when an experimental object works out on the first real-life trial?'\n\n'This is experimental?' Hamish walked all around Eva's contraption. 'I don't believe you. Something cannae work this well without being tested a thousand times.'\n\n'Well… I invented it last night,' Eva told him. 'So yes, it is experimental.'\n\nHamish stared at her. 'We didnae make this last night. We tested to see if the spell for turning me back into a man was viable, and we finished off Jude's new Aurameter.'\n\nEva met his gaze. 'I stayed up after you left. I couldn't sleep for thinking of what might go wrong. So… I made this.' She tore her eyes from his, and stood at the door beside me, watching the progress of her invention. I passed her my Aurameter so she could see what I could: the bramble-magic being sucked up, before being pulled away from the pillar and drawn into the pot.\n\nAfter a few minutes of watching, Cullen crept back into the ballroom. 'I think it's okay now,' he said, giving a thumbs-up. 'It seems to–'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He stopped talking, as the pillar threw more thorns towards him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was just a few this time, but enough to make him rush back to the safety of the library.\n\n'I'd put a protection spell around myself, but they still pierced me,' he said, shaking his head in wonder.\n\n'Well, you can see by the pot's gauge that my siphoning device seems to be working,' said Eva, scratching her head in confusion. 'And I could see it sucking up the magic when I looked through Katy's Aurameter. But… it's clearly not working quite as well as I'd hoped.'\n\nI looked through the library's glass panel again. The tubing was expanding out from where it had surrounded the pillar, and pushing its way towards the black door. 'That's because the pillar isn't the source,' I said. 'And your siphoning tube has just gone on a journey to find it. Eva, I can't believe it – it's just pushed its way through a door.'\n\nShe gave a start of surprise. 'Well, that's unexpected. I mean… I made the tubing strong, and capable of growing to quite a few thousand metres, but… that was just me, over-engineering. I didn't expect to actually need that much length. What should we do?'\n\nI bit my lip, thinking. 'Some of us should stay here to keep an eye on Eva's invention, and to keep testing the pillar to see if we can get near. Some of us should go and follow the tubes. Find the source.'\n\n'I'll go,' said Jay, easing open the library door. 'I'm not much use when it comes to wizardry.'\n\n'I'll go with you,' Ned offered. 'I can put a protection spell on us both.'\n\nI watched for a moment as they both dashed to the black door, staying as far away from the Pillar of Permanence as they could. Only a few thorns flew their way, but they managed to dodge most of them, and they quickly pushed open the black door and ran through.\n\nI kept an eye on the ballroom, watching the bramble-magic being pulled from the pillar. But it was going so, so slow; most of the magic we were siphoning seemed to be coming from the other tubes, the ones that had pushed their way through the black door.\n\n'Y'know what?' I said. 'I think I'm going to go after Ned and Jay. The source of the magic might not be too happy about what we're doing. They'll need backup.'\n\nBefore anyone could argue with me, I left the library and made a dash for the black door, managing to get pierced only twice along the way.\n\nThere was a long corridor beyond the black door, and the rooms on either side were more utilitarian than any others in the house. There were storage rooms, a little office that might have been used by the butler or the housekeeper, and finally, a large kitchen, with a glass door leading out to a walled vegetable garden.\n\n'Oh my stars,' I mumbled, taking in a lungful of delicious scents. 'This is what Hamish was smelling.'\n\nThere was a range cooker with a goose and roast vegetables in the oven.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "On one of the burners atop the cooker, the sprouts were in a pan, along with pieces of bacon, and in a smaller pot, marrowfat peas were simmering away.",
"loss": true
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a covered dish next to the range, and I pulled the cover aside and saw red cabbage, cooked and ready for serving. Everything was just as Hamish's nose said it would be.\n\nThere was a small table in the kitchen, with plates, cutlery and glasses piled on top, as though ready to be taken somewhere.\n\nAs much as I wanted to explore, I was here to find Ned and Jay, and to follow the tubing. And I could see the magical flexi-glass – it had somehow managed to squeeze through the keyhole of a door next to the table.\n\nWhat, I wondered, was through that door?\n\nI was about to approach when I heard noise beyond it: something crashing to the ground, followed by a husky laugh.\n\n'I guess I got too enthusiastic,' came a voice I recognised as Jay's. There was another husky laugh, followed by… well, by the kind of silence that somehow spoke volumes.\n\nI couldn't open that door. I just couldn't. I'd been waiting for Ned and Jay to get together for a very long time. Disturbing them now could prove catastrophic.\n\n'Hey, Katy, have you found them yet?' Cullen strode into the kitchen. Before I could stop him, he pulled open the door, revealing a pantry beyond. In that pantry, there were shelves filled with tinned and packaged food, and two intertwined people, pressed up against those shelves and kissing each other madly.\n\nNed and Jay gasped and jumped away from each other. Both of them had messy hair and flushed faces.\n\n'We were just… um… we were…' said Ned.\n\n'Following the tube into the kitchen,' Jay added. 'That's what we were doing. And then… and then we spotted this pantry and thought, well… that needs to be searched. And then…'\n\n'And then your tongue fell into Ned's mouth?' Cullen grinned.\n\nI pointed to the siphoning tube. 'And what about that? Didn't you follow it in here?'\n\n'Oh!' Ned stared at the tube. It was right beside her, and it seemed to be piercing its way through the back wall of a shelf filled with tinned food. 'I mean… of course that's why we were in here investigating. That's what we just said.'\n\n'Mm hm.' I gave her a knowing smile. 'Sure it is.'\n\n'No, it isn't.' Ned groaned, looking mortified. 'We did come in here to explore, but the siphoning tube hadn't made it this far by then. I don't know what we were thinking, what with everything going on.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'Meh.' I shrugged.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "user note just fyi, Word restriction: Use 'finally' 3 time(s) only",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'I can't get too mad with you guys. After all, me and Cullen had a pretty epic kiss when everyone on the Riddler's Express was on the verge of death. There's something about being in an emergency situation, isn't there? It makes you evaluate things. It makes you finally throw your tongue into the mouth of the person you've fancied for a very long time.'\n\n'Crap. I'm so sorry, Katy.' Ned squeezed my hands. 'Please don't tell Hamish that this is what I was doing while I was supposed to be following the tubing. He'll think I don't care, and I do. I just…'\n\n'Hey, stop it now.' I squeezed her back for a moment before pulling away. 'I've already told you – it's completely understandable. Two people as hot as you and Jay were bound to give in eventually.'\n\nNed's face was flaming, while Jay looked happier than I'd seen him for a while. 'I'm not sure what to do now,' he said. 'I mean, how can we keep following the tube?' He pointed to the area where the tubing had pierced the back of the shelf. 'There's more than likely a solid wall behind that shelf, isn't there? Should we go outside, and see if it's travelled out into the garden? If we can go outside, I mean.'\n\n'Or,' said Cullen, his voice low and urgent, his eyes filled with that same Eureka expression they'd had in Times of Yore, 'we could go this way.'\n\nHe lifted a perfectly-normal looking tin of marrowfat peas, and with a great big creaking lurch, the entire shelf slid aside to reveal a secret room beyond.\n\n[ We Finally Found Christmas ]\n\nThe room was smaller, but lovelier, than any other in the house. A fire burned in the hearth, and a tall Christmas tree stood nearby, with a star on top and presents piled beneath. After finding most of the house decorated for Winter Solstice, we'd finally found a room that was ready for Christmas.\n\nThere was a dining table by the window, and two armchairs next to the fire, with a rug and blanket in between.\n\nOh, and did I mention the man and woman, sitting in those armchairs, dressed in their holiday finery, and looking nervously in our direction?\n\nNo? Well… that was because I was terrified. And it wasn't just that they were ghosts – because they were. My senses told me so, even though I could see them without my magic. Eva's glass tubing had stopped travelling now, and it was making a circle around the woman, siphoning whatever power she held, which meant that she must be the source of the strange magic in this house.\n\nThe thing was, once I raised my Aurameter to my eye, I could see that the magic wasn't simply surrounding her. That bramble-like magic was physically attached to her, its thorns embedded in her skin, a countless number rooted into every part of her body.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And it was clear to me that she was suffering, now that the siphoning tubes were sucking her bramble-magic away.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 13 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word usage target: 'woman' must be used 3 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her image was growing weak; she was flickering before my eyes. Ghost or not, she wouldn't be able to survive this much longer. I couldn't bear to look at it anymore, so I dropped the Aurameter, returning my view to normal.\n\nShe was a pretty woman, the same woman we'd seen in the photograph in the entrance hall. Her eyes were filled with excitement, hope and fear as she stared at Cullen. The man was focused on Cullen, too, gazing at him as though he were a long-awaited messiah. Or a long-lost son.\n\n'Jay,' I whispered. 'You go tell the others what we've found. I think this is where we all need to be right now. Oh, and you'd better tell Eva to stop siphoning, too.'\n\nAs Jay ran off, the woman stood up, her arms outstretched. 'It's you, Cuileann, isn't it? I knew you'd find your way back home.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Narrative Extension Protocol:\nQuantity: four sentences\nContext: Match character familiarity\nGenre: contemporary",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Michael Montrose tipped a little of his whiskey in the plant pot, pretending to finish the glass just as his companion, a large, red-faced man, returned to the table. They were seated in a room I recognised only from photos: the lounge at the Warlock Society's Samhain Street branch.\n\n'Another one, Heber?' Michael held his empty glass aloft, swaying a little, hoping that the warmth spell he'd performed would give him enough of a flush to complete the illusion of drunkenness.\n\n'Why not?' Heber gave him a truly drunken smile in return.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'We'll have to keep a clear head tomorrow, won't we? At least until we've killed them all. Now, how much was our little bet again, cousin?'\n\nMichael resisted the urge to shudder.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'You bet me five gold rounds that you could kill the youngest.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I don't think it's much of a bet this time though, do you? The youngest we could find is sixteen. What age was the one you killed last year again?' His heart beat just a little faster, and he prayed that his device was still recording.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'The one with the incredibly apt surname?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Heber let out a long, loud guffaw, smacking his belly in delight. 'Ah, fond memories, Michael. Fond memories. It's Megan you're thinking of. Megan Wolfe, eleven years old.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But I'm not greedy. This Christmas Eve I shall happily make do with a sixteen-year-old.'\n\nMichael poured more drinks, and carried on with the horrible conversation, secretly recording more information, more admissions. Oh, he knew it wouldn't all hold up in court.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It would be contested.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Mandatory: Your text must contain 'hundred' 2 times exactly",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It would all be gone over a hundred times by a hundred of his cousin's lawyers. And he, Michael, he'd be dragged across the coals, too. He could see it now. They'd employ expensive lawyers – a Rundt, or maybe an O'Toole.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lawyers who would say 'How can we trust this man's testimony, when he's testifying against his own coven – his own cousin, no less?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "How can we trust the word of a witch who has participated in this hunt himself?'\n\nMichael was shaking. 'Need another drink,' he said, downing his whiskey for real this time. It didn't matter what they said to him. The evidence would speak for itself.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Even if they tore him to shreds in court, it didn't matter.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What mattered was that his cousin, and everyone like him, would pay for what they'd done.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand this chapter by adding eight sentences in the contemporary genre. Note that some context may come from earlier parts.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Michael moved away from Jay, looking pale, and his memories no longer poured into our minds. 'Sorry I… I need a rest.'\n\n'I get it. It's draining,' said Jay, looking tired himself.\n\nFor the first time since we returned to the room, Cullen was looking, really looking, at his father. 'You were undercover. You were working to expose the werewolf hunters in your coven.'\n\nHis father smiled sadly. 'I was. I hated being a Montrose. I left the coven, in fact – moved to the human world for a time to distance myself from them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But after meeting your mother there, it became clear to me – bad things don't stop happening just because you're looking the other way. I knew I had to go back. I knew I had to stop them, and going undercover, helping the Wayfairs to expose the truth of the Montrose coven, that was the only way I could help. And I have never been prouder in my life than when I watched you take up an undercover position with the new police force. The Wayfarers are every bit as outstanding as the Wayfair coven who paved the way.'\n\n'I was so proud, too, when I heard about your job,' his mother said, tears streaming down her face. 'If… if Michael needs a little time to rest, maybe I could help to finish the story?'\n\nJay nodded, and took her hand.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The rest of us joined hands again, and sat in the circle once more.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 3 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We could see through Caoimhe's memories this time. Her hand, with its little charm bracelet, reaching out to a baby who rolled on the rug. We couldn't see Caoimhe's face, but her thoughts were clear.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "keep the story goin for 47 sentences more. contemporary genre, A. A. Albright style. characters might be from earlier chapters",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jude's expression was one of a woman who had finally put the pieces together. 'I… how have I forgotten this?' she said. 'Why do I remember it now? I remember it all.'\n\nCaoimhe gave her a small smile. 'I've been hoping it would come back to you, and now it has.'\n\nJude shivered. 'Yes, but it's not exactly a pleasant memory, I'm afraid. Still, I suppose I'd better tell you all.' She looked around at everyone as she spoke. 'It began when Muireann Wolfe came to visit me the year before. Winston's mother, though I'm sure we've all figured that out by now. She'd come to me just after her daughter went missing. She believed that there were witches here, on Hunting Hill, who had killed young Megan. Her suspects were… well, all of the members of the notorious Lodge, that horrible club who liked to get their kicks by killing werewolves, weredogs… anyone they felt was lesser. Muireann told me that her nose had smelled guilt up here, on this fancy hill full of fancy houses…'\n\nShe sighed. 'It didn't take me long to learn that she was absolutely right. That kind of hunting was illegal, but… this hill was named as it was for a reason, and even though times changed, the residents of Hunting Hill were reluctant to accept that change. Some still are, as you'll all know after investigating the Lodge yourselves. But… as I began to look into what had happened to little Megan Wolfe, I soon realised that I wasn't the only one investigating the witches in this area. I'd stumbled right into the middle of a Wayfair investigation, with Cullen's parents as the undercover agents. They were so, so close to bringing the culprits to justice. And I became part of that investigation.' She smiled at Cullen's mother. 'Caoimhe and I became friends. I even visited this little room a couple of times, and met their young son.'\n\nA tear slid down my great-aunt's cheek. 'I tried to speak to Muireann. To tell her that it was all in hand. I couldn't tell her the details of what I'd learned along the way, and the plan that the Wayfairs had devised, but I begged her to believe I was on top of things. I thought I'd gotten through to her, but then on Christmas Eve, she stormed in to the party, just as the hunt was about to begin. I don't know what she thought she'd achieve. She fought well, but she was no match for a house filled with witches. I had no choice. I went in there and I teleported her out of harm's way before anyone could stop me.'\n\n'We didn't see your wand,' Eva said. 'You looked like a witch in Caoimhe's memory; it was as if you simply pointed a finger to teleport Muireann out of there.'\n\n'My wand was hidden in the arm of my coat. Not on purpose,' said Jude. 'I just had very, very big sleeves. But that's a fact that turned out to be quite useful, in the end.' She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in the memories she had only just retrieved. 'I tried to leave immediately. I thought I'd acted quickly – taken them by surprise. But I wasn't quick enough. By the time I tried to travel out of here, someone had already locked the house down.'\n\n'Heber,' said Michael, his tone grim.\n\n'Yes.' My aunt nodded. 'Heber.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She looked to Jay. 'Could you…?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Required word frequency: 'their' (2x)",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He understood immediately, and quickly enabled the rest of us to see inside Jude's mind.\n\n[ Silent Night ]\n\nIt had been a foolish thing to do, and Jude knew it. But she had to intervene. She'd come in here unprepared and teleported Muireann to safety because, if she hadn't, Muireann would have been killed. But now, Jude was stuck inside the house, and she was far from ready.\n\nShe'd only turned up on instinct, and was just about to organise her weapons when Muireann made a rush for the door. Her Toolkit was still shrunken and hiding in her bag. She should have at least taken her ropes out before entering. She'd meant to – she prided herself on being prepared for anything – but Muireann had just been too quick tonight.\n\nRealistically, all Jude had to hand was her wand, and her knife – and that particular knife was only good against werewolves and vampires. She'd been in bad situations, but this time… this time she was worried for her life. The Montrose coven had a certain look upon their faces tonight, and it was a look Jude had seen too many times before: murderous. They wanted to do to Jude what she'd stopped them from doing to Muireann.\n\nAs the coven surrounded her, Jude reached for her wand, cursing herself for wearing her favourite coat tonight. It was good for keeping warm, sure, but those sleeves were so big and baggy. Her wand was up there, somewhere. If only she could—\n\n'Pass me those irons,' Heber Montrose said, shoving her roughly against one of the pillars. Another witch passed him a long chain, with shackles on either end, and Heber quickly secured her.\n\nCrap. She'd been just about to retrieve her wand (well, in another second or two), but now that she was shackled in witch irons, she wouldn't be able to scratch her nose, let alone pull her wand from up her sleeve like some nifty magician's trick.\n\nJude didn't know if those irons would stop her from using magic, or if they'd fully hold her – she was a hunter, not a witch. But even if she could unlock them, she would need something to direct her hunter magic – like her wand, stuck up the sleeve of her coat, or her knife, tucked into the back of her jeans.\n\n'Good job, Jude,' she muttered to herself as Heber and the other witch moved away, back to their crowd at the centre of the ballroom floor. She really was getting too old for this. Why hadn't she listened to Felim? He'd wanted them to spend Christmas Eve in front of the fire, drinking turnip brandy. If she ever got out of here, she was going to hand her weapons over to her nephews. Well, some of her weapons. Maybe. Her nephews might be hunters, but they were also idiots.\n\nA few seconds after Heber was gone, a voice whispered in Jude's ear. It was Caoimhe. Jude tried not to meet her friend's eyes, as Caoimhe said, 'I don't have long. This is a voice-throwing spell, and it's hard to keep it up without attracting notice. Look, I don't think Heber saw your wand. He thinks you're a witch, from the Wayfair coven. So keep your wand hidden. I'm going to draw on the pillar. It's strong, Jude. So strong. At the stroke of midnight, I'll unlock your shackles and drop the lockdown spell. Heber won't know it's down. You'll be able to get out and get the Wayfairs in earlier than we planned. So watch the clock, okay?'\n\nEven with magic, Jude wasn't in any way accomplished at voice-throwing spells, so Caoimhe would have to take her slight nod as an answer. Jude watched her as she stood with the other witches. All of the serving staff had scarpered. Hopefully they'd managed to get all the way out of the house before Heber had locked it down.\n\nJude let her eyes rove the hall, finally spying a huge clock in one of the alcoves.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She kept an eye on the clock – it was six minutes to midnight – and listened as closely as she could to the witches as they talked.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'So what next?' Caoimhe asked the others.\n\nHeber tapped his chin. 'We kill that witch, that's what's next. I told you, it's more than likely she's a Wayfair – they're always poking their noses where they don't belong. I say we get it over with, and transport the body far away from here, and quick.'\n\nAs the crowd either agreed with Heber, or made suggestions of their own, Jude glanced at the clock again. It was five minutes to midnight, now. She could hear Caoimhe speaking more loudly, trying to guide the others into the adjoining library, hoping to have them out of the way when she helped Jude escape. But the witches were arguing, glaring at Jude – they wanted to kill her now.\n\n'Well, let's have a drink first, shall we?' Michael suggested, understanding that his wife needed a distraction. 'A bit of Dutch courage before we do this dirty deed, eh?'\n\nThe others made some noises of agreement, and the crowd moved towards the library. But just as he was about to cross the threshold, Heber stopped and said, 'Of course, we could just stay in here, and see whether you try to help this Wayfair witch escape.'\n\nCaoimhe and Michael stared at Heber. 'What are you talking about?' asked Michael.\n\n'You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're spies. This whole night was created so that the Wayfair coven could catch us in the act of hunting werewolves.' He shook his head. 'You think you actually fooled me with this charade? You vowed never to return to the Montrose coven. But then you marry a mysterious woman we've never heard of before, and suddenly you wanted back in. Did you take me for a fool, Michael? I've known what you were up to all along.'\n\n'So why did you wait all of this time?' asked Michael, his eyes dancing with nerves. Jude could see that he was still playing for time, desperate to find a way out of this mess. 'Why did you let tonight go ahead, if you knew what we were doing? Or should I say not doing? Because this is clearly all in your imagination.'\n\n'My dear cousin,' said Heber. 'I have contacts everywhere. I have power and connections you cannot even dream of. Frankly, the idea you thought you could get one over on me is laughable. Of course I had a plan for tonight. At the last minute, I was going to clutch my chest and say that some of your food hadn't agreed with me. The hunt would have been postponed. The Wayfairs would have arrived at our hunting ground, and found absolutely nothing. Oh, they may have knocked on this door afterwards, but… it would have been too late by then.'\n\n'Too late for what?' Michael asked, his throat sounding dry.\n\n'Too late for you, and Caoimhe, and your little one, of course. I meant it when I said I wanted to kill someone young tonight. But it wasn't a werewolf.' He narrowed his eyes, spittle flying and chins wobbling as he drew closer to Michael. 'No one will be able to prove a thing, afterwards. Not the Wayfairs. Not anybody.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Because when I said I have connections and power, I meant it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 27 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You'll be declared missing, like so many are, and that will be the end of that. And as for myself and my true friends, we shall leave here and go on about our lives as if you never existed at all.'\n\nJude watched Caoimhe's and Michael's faces, wondering: would the plan still go ahead? They looked terrified, and Jude could understand why. Cuileann was their world. They loved that boy with every atom of their bodies.\n\n'Look, I… I don't know anything about all of this spy business,' Michael blustered. 'But if these Wayfair people do turn up, I'll turn them away. I'll lie. I'll say anything you want. I'll do anything you want.'\n\n'You know,' said Heber, 'I believe that to save your little son, you probably would. But that wouldn't do my reputation any good, would it? No, I need to set an example, Michael. Go against Heber Montrose, and you disappear. It's just the way it has to be.'\n\n'Look, you can suffer from paranoia any other day, Heber,' said Michael, still desperately bluffing and blustering. 'But not now, all right? Not on what I hoped would be a good night's hunting. We're all going to sit down, and have a drink. As soon as you calm down, you'll see how ridiculous you're being.'\n\n'No.' Heber crooked his finger, and the rest of the party surrounded Michael and Caoimhe. 'Right now we have to kill you, and your child. Then we'll deal with that witch we've got tied up. And then… well, then I'll probably have a nightcap and a good night's sleep.'\n\nIn times of terror, thought Jude, it can sometimes seem as though the world slows down. Those last few seconds before the clock struck midnight seemed to take forever, until suddenly, Caoimhe's voice whispered urgently in her ear, 'Save my son, you have to save my son!'\n\nThe clock struck, Jude's shackles fell away, and she finally managed to pull out her wand.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: The user will write a bit then you need to write around 94 sentences continuing directly from the user's text. Note: Characters may be introduced as if already known - maintain any existing context or treat as new if unclear.\n\nGenre: contemporary",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The nanny was in the nursery, along with a boy of sixteen or so. He was dressed as a waiter – he must have been one of the few who hadn't managed to get away before Heber's lockdown spell.\n\nThe nanny had placed the baby in a small carrier, with his teddy in his arms, and a little silver toy. It seemed to be an oddly-shaped music box with far too many moving parts for a baby. Probably not the safest toy, Jude thought, as the nanny reached out to it, twisting the star on top of the Christmas tree; the toy began to play Silent Night.\n\nAs the music played, witches thundered up the stairs. Some of them (the more clever among them) had already used their magic to travel more quickly to the nursery. Jude grabbed the baby carrier and screamed, 'Grab on tight to me!' to the nanny and the boy. With a whirl of her wand, she took them all to Eile Street.\n\nMost of the Wayfair coven were under cloaking spells while they carried out tonight's operation, and Jude knew there was no point in trying to find them. But she also knew of another Wayfair job that night – two of their coven were in a tavern on Eile Street, spying on a wizard who they suspected was trading in dark objects.\n\nIt was snowing when Jude arrived on that street, with a nanny, a boy and a baby. The snow was heavy and cold, but it looked so pretty under the streetlamps.\n\n'What are we doing here?' asked the nanny, while the boy simply shivered.\n\n'I have things to take care of,' Jude said. 'Just run, both of you. The Wayfairs will be in touch.'\n\nInstantly, the pair fled, and Jude looked down at the baby. He must have been freezing, in only a little romper and a bib, so she laid him on the ground and pulled off her coat, about to wrap it around him, when she heard a growl.\n\nJude's stomach sank – how could she have forgotten? When she'd teleported Muireann Wolfe, this was exactly where she sent her to. Muireann had a flat above a shop, just a few doors away from here.\n\n'I thought you'd be at home, where I sent you,' Jude said as she turned to face Muireann. The werewolf was already part-transformed, and she merely growled in response.\n\n'Can you change back, Muireann, so I can talk to you properly?' Jude went on, reaching desperately into her coat for her wand, only to realise she didn't have either. Her eyes darted around. The coat was where she'd left it, on the ground beside the baby. The wand must have rolled, because it was all the way over on the other side of the street. All she had was her knife, stuck into the waistband of her jeans.\n\nShe shielded the baby carrier with her body, carefully watching Muireann all the while as she reached down for her knife. The woman was now one hundred percent wolf, her clothes stretched and torn, her limbs long and strong, her nails dangerous. 'I'm just going to get the baby settled somewhere safe, and then we can go together to the Wayfair coven. I should have told you this before, but… at the Montrose mansion tonight, it was a secret operation. Caoimhe and Michael aren't what you think they are. They're–'\n\nJude didn't get the chance to tell the werewolf what Cullen's parents were, because the creature lunged, knocking Jude to the ground and swiping at the baby.\n\nJude didn't think; she simply acted, aiming her knife at the wolf and praying a silent prayer. She always prayed when she threw that knife, because if she didn't, it was a truly hit or miss affair. If Jude really really wished the best for the werewolf in question, then her knife wouldn't kill them, but would merely return them to human form.\n\nEven if Jude didn't wish the best – if she actually wanted the wolf to die – then the chances were high that the knife still wouldn't kill them. It would merely slide off and fall to the ground. Hunter weapons were finicky that way – some of them seemed to have a mind of their own, while some of them seemed to have a genuine connection to her mind, and to her intentions. And now that she was throwing this weapon at a werewolf who was trying to kill a baby, Jude was having quite a hard time wishing Muireann the best.\n\nShe didn't know she'd been holding her breath, but she finally let it out again as the werewolf whimpered, let go of the baby, and fell to the ground.\n\nAs Muireann quickly reverted to her human body, Jude kept an eye on her and rushed to grab the child and retrieve her knife.\n\n'You're all right.' Jude kissed the baby's tiny head. 'You're actually all right. Well… nothing that a little healing spell won't fix.' Her voice was shaky, because she wasn't sure if she was telling the truth. Muireann had injured his face – a great big gash that ran from his left eye to his upper lip. Was it a bite, or a claw mark? For now, it was bleeding too profusely to tell.\n\nJude retrieved her silver wand, using it to perform a spell that would clean and cauterize the wound. Healing spells were hardly her speciality. There was a danger she'd leave a mark. But she had to move quickly – a baby not yet a month old did not need a werewolf bite to add to his woes. Even outside of full moon, the venom could spread and cause complications.\n\n'Did you bite him?' Jude cried.\n\n'No!' Muireann shook her head, snatching up Jude's coat and wrapping it around herself. 'I must have just caught him with my nail. I wanted to bite him. I wanted to do much worse. And I was going to, if you hadn't stopped me. You have to understand, Jude. They killed my child, so when I smelled one of their children on the street outside my home, I… I just saw red. I… I'm sorry.'\n\nJude shook her head, resting the baby back in his carrier and twisting the little star atop the tree as she'd seen the nanny do, hoping to comfort him. It wasn't a bite. That was the main thing. Someone would clean up Jude's rush-job, no doubt, when all of this was over.\n\n'You're sorry?' Jude shouted as she stood to face Muireann. 'Well, you bloody well should be. I saved you from that lot tonight because my heart aches for you, and for what those witches took from you. I saved you because you have another child who needs you. And this little boy?' Jude glanced back at him. He was making the sweetest gurgling noises as his toy played its tune. 'Even if his parents were what you think they are, he wouldn't deserve what you tried to do tonight. But what's worse is that they're not what you think they are. They're…'\n\nJude shook her head, unable to finish her sentence, as confusion washed over her. She… she'd been saying something, hadn't she? She'd been in the middle of something very important.\n\nHadn't she?\n\nNow, all that she was sure of was that she was cold. She rubbed her arms, looking around her. What was she doing on Eile Street? What was she doing out at all, without a coat, when such heavy snow was falling down?\n\nShe jerked, as tingles ran all through her body. It wasn't a cold shiver, but a very particular kind of tingle – the kind a hunter could always feel when there was magic in the air. And whatever magic was at work, it was a strong, strange magic – and it was working on her. Something was shifting inside her – some thought, some memory of that oh-so-important reason why she was standing on this street – all of it was fading away.\n\nFrightened, Jude stared around again, desperate to remember. There was a baby in a carrier, a few feet away.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a woman, with torn clothes and a coat that looked very much like Jude's coat – her favourite coat, too – scurrying away. And somewhere close, there was the sound of such lovely, lovely music, a Christmas carol Jude knew and loved: Silent Night.\n\n[ I Wished it Could be Christmas Every Day ]\n\nI sat in the circle, watching my aunt's memories in amazement. It all made sense now. Winston's mother, his sister, Cullen's scar…\n\nA hunter had scarred him, but not in order to hurt him. My aunt had been trying to save him from what she feared was a werewolf bite. The hunter magic I saw when I looked at his old injury was the remnants of the magic Aunt Jude used that night.\n\nBut in that orphanage, under Esme's care, his scar had never been cleaned up, even though it would have been a simple spell. Esme had left it there, because Esme was Esme. And then, when he was old enough to erase it himself, Cullen had left it there. Because Cullen was Cullen.\n\nSo why didn't Jude remember? Why didn't the Wayfairs remember? Heber Montrose had been arrested only a few years ago, by Wanda Wayfair. And my friends and I had helped to put Debbie McGinty and Denton Montrose behind bars a while back, but many of those party guests were still around. Older now, but definitely still around.\n\nJude snatched her hands from the circle, throwing us all out of her memories, and stared at Caoimhe. 'A woman opened a door – Esme, the orphanage matron – she opened a door, and she took Cullen inside. And I just let her. I didn't know any better than to just let her. And then I went home and my husband didn't know anything either. And… and I'm a curious person, Caoimhe. I would never let something like that just go. And yet… I did? Until just now, I had no recollection of Muireann, of that job with the Wayfairs. So what did you do to me? To Muireann? To make me forget this house, and that night. To make me forget that there was a Pillar of Permanence here. Was it a memory spell? Well, it must have been, mustn't it?'\n\nSlowly, Caoimhe nodded her head. 'Immediately after you left the room, Michael and I were murdered. But… time can pass slowly when a death spell is coming your way. And in that split second, or however long it might have been before I died, I managed to create the most important spell of my life. Because Heber meant what he said, and I knew it. He would send people to hunt Cuileann down and kill him, just to set an example. So… I drew on the power of the Pillar of Permanence, and I created a memory spell. I made sure that the second every person in that house left, they would never track down my son. They would never hurt you, Cuileann. Because they would forget that you ever existed. They would forget that everything about us ever existed, including this house.\n\n'It was far from a perfect spell, I admit. But when you know you're about to be murdered, you have to work fast.'\n\nShe shot an apologetic look in Jude's direction. 'It's obvious now, with hindsight, that in order to make the Montrose coven forget us and Cuileann, that everyone would forget us. Your memories began to leave you, I think, the moment that Heber and his friends left our house. I certainly didn't envisage your encounter with Muireann. In the end, it wasn't just Heber Montrose I had to worry about. It was a heartbroken, grieving mother, who had loved her daughter just as much as I loved my son.'\n\nCullen hadn't said anything for a long time, and he still didn't speak. He swallowed, looked at his mother, and then looked away again.\n\n'You were born at the beginning of December,' she told him, even though he wouldn't meet her eyes. 'I was in our garden, clipping some holly to add to the garland, when you came. I'd thought of naming you a hundred things, but as soon as I felt you on the way I knew what I'd call you. Cuileann, for the holly, for the red berries and green leaves in my grasp. Although Cullen suits you, you know. It's close enough. And with my surname as yours, at least… at least you've always had a connection to me.'\n\nCullen staggered to his feet, leaving the floor and heading for one of the chairs by the table. 'I…' he began. 'I'm glad, to finally know all of this. But I don't think I understand everything yet. You're so solid, both of you. And everyone else might have forgotten you, but you didn't forget. Why didn't you reach out to me before now? Why are we locked in this house?'\n\nCullen's father looked him in the eye. 'I have tried to reach out to you. I visit you. I keep up with what's happening in your life. But the memory spell seems to have affected people's ability to see me or hear me. Even other ghosts can't see me, except for Caoimhe. Even you can't see me, though I've tried so hard. Still, I have been there to see some momentous moments in your life. There were times when my heart ached for you. And lately, there have been times when my heart has soared.'\n\nCullen gave his father a sheepish smile. 'Eek. I don't know whether to find that sweet or disturbing.' He let out a hoarse laugh.\n\n'Oh, don't worry,' said Michael. 'There are limits on what and where a ghost can watch. Rules about intimate moments and so on. Although… there are a lot of public displays of affection just lately, so it's really not my fault if I happen to see some of that.' He gave me a wink. 'Hello, Katy, by the way. You have made our son finally, completely happy, and for that, Caoimhe and I are more grateful to you than we can ever express. But… as to why you're trapped in here… I'll let Caoimhe try to explain.'\n\nOnce again, she gazed at her son. 'My spell had been fast and sloppy that night. As well as having many unintended consequences, it was also unbreakable. Afterwards, I tried to make some adjustments. The first of my attempts was that, when you were ready to seek out your parents, the music would lead you to this house. I used the other musical plum that I had here, in the house, to create the spell. They were a pair, so I was able to focus on it, and draw upon the pillar to create the amendment.\n\n'You were supposed to feel the urge to play Silent Night, and when you heard it, you would have an irrepressible desire to come here.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "user note just fyi, 🎯 Target word: 'until' | Required occurrences: 3",
"loss": false
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "You would be able to meet us, and hear the truth of why you had to grow up without us.'\n\nHer face grew flushed. 'And also… well, I also wished that, when you did walk in, it would be Christmas. It would always be Christmas, every time you walked into this house – even if you walked in a hundred thousand times. I… I have a thing for Christmas. The carols, the food. Being with family. I wanted you to have that, with us – the Christmas day that we never got to have together.'\n\nShe looked at us all. 'But it soon became obvious that my son didn't have the musical plum. Michael travelled to the orphanage, as a ghost. He found it in the basement, and we hoped that even though Esme had taken Cuileann's things when he was a baby, surely she'd give them back to him when he left there. But she never did. And Michael is only solid inside the house. He's never been able to communicate or to move anything outside of it so… I made yet another attempt to amend the spell. We knew Cuileann had visited residents on this hill, so I tried to make it so that, even without Silent Night to lead him home, he would see the house – he, and only he would see it – and he would feel the urge to come inside. But perhaps he never saw it until now because, even though he was close by, he never came.'\n\n'I did have an urge to come inside,' Cullen admitted, his voice barely audible. 'I saw this house, and it drew me. I just resisted it. I don't know why. Stubbornness? Fear? I don't know.'\n\n'Ah. That explains it, then.' His mother took a drink, and then said, 'Well, I believed that the amendment to the spell failed. I didn't even know until today that the always Christmas part had worked. I thought the only thing I got right – well, somewhat right – was the memory spell. But maybe Cuileann gets his stubborn streak from my side of the family, because I made one last-ditch attempt. It was more of a wish than a spell. I drew upon the pillar and I wished that somehow, anyhow, someone or something would lead you home. It was just that one, simple wish, but… it must have worked. Because that very day, Winston was able to see this house, and somehow I was able to communicate with him. Maybe it was his connection to all of this that enabled him to come in, maybe it was because of my wish. Either way, I wasn't going to let his arrival go to waste. But… well… I think I might have known that it was stubbornness keeping you away by then, at least somewhere deep down, because I asked him to bring the plum to Jude, so that her memory would return when she twisted the star.'\n\nShe turned to face my aunt. 'And somehow, you both listened to the music. Somehow, you were all led here. But even then, Jude, your memories didn't return. That's when I realised just how unbreakable my spell really was. Your memories didn't return until you were here, safely locked inside this house. And I can't be sure, because my original spell was such a desperate, sloppy, last-minute mess, but… I do believe that the memory spell is the reason you're all locked inside. It's trying to protect itself. And the only way it can do that is if it never lets you out.'\n\nHer face was a picture of embarrassment and concern. 'All I can say is that I am so, so sorry to you all – and to Katy, especially, because this is probably not the way you imagined meeting your future in-laws.'\n\nI found myself furiously blushing at the thought that Cullen and I might marry one day, while Caoimhe continued to talk.\n\n'But don't worry,' she said. 'I think I might know of a way.' Her eyes rested on Hamish for a moment. 'A way to give everyone what they need. But first, why don't we all sit at the table and eat? There are presents, too. They're the same ones we had for your first Christmas.'\n\nAs she spoke those last words I carefully watched her and, as I did, I thought about the magic, running between Caoimhe and the pillar. I also thought about the fact that my hand was hurting more than ever, and that when I'd sneaked a peek at it through my Aurameter, some new and unusual magic had turned up to join the party. The coil seemed to be extending in a way that only my Aurameter would let me see – the magic in my hand, creeping towards Caoimhe, like a thousand silver tendrils, each one with a white-hot flame at its tip.\n\nI was terrified to think too much about what it might mean. Because what if there was an ending to this? And what if that ending wasn't a happy one – at least not for everyone?\n\n'I don't want food,' Cullen told his mother. 'I want to figure out how to get my friends out of this mess.'\n\n'Hey.' I softly touched his arm. 'I think we're all getting hungry right now. Let's do what your mother suggested, yeah? Let's all sit down and eat and have Christmas together, and we can talk about everything else in a while.'\n\n[ We'll Always Have Halloween ]\n\nWhen I began to eat, I wasn't sure that it was actually real food because, let's face it, it was magical food created by Cullen's mother so that he could enjoy Christmas with his parents every day for the rest of his life. But somehow every morsel tasted real and delicious, and the two glasses of wine I drank made me just a little tipsy.\n\nAfter a reluctant beginning, Hamish ate even more than the rest of us. As we enjoyed our plum pudding dessert, we pulled crackers with terrible jokes and paper crowns inside. After that, we had a sing-song at the piano (any sing-song not involving my mother is a winner) and then played charades.\n\nFinally, Cullen opened the presents beneath the tree. There were tiny outfits, tiny socks and tiny shoes. There were soft toys and rattles and a little baby book with just a few photos inside, and lots of empty pages that had never been filled.\n\nWhen he reached those empty pages, his eyes grew wet, and he suddenly croaked out, 'Sorry. I'm sorry.'\n\nHis parents gazed at him in wonder. They were sitting on the rug by the tree, and they'd been looking on and smiling as he opened his gifts. 'What are you sorry for?' his father asked.\n\nCullen swallowed. 'You know what for. You've seen me over the years. You know that I was bitter and twisted for a really long time. You know I was a thief. A dealer in illegal potions. You know… you know I was a warlock. That I mixed with people just like the ones you fought so hard against.'\n\nHis mother blinked back tears, reached out, and stroked his hair. 'I know you were sad. I know you yearned for us. I know that. I know you had a good heart, always, and that you found your way in the end.'\n\nHe swallowed again, and it was so clear that he needed to have a real, proper cry. I ached to rush over there, and hug him, to hold him while he cried. But instead I stayed sitting near the piano, watching as he let his mother put her arms around him. Watching as he actually hugged her back.\n\nHe even beckoned his father closer, and hugged them both at once, a great big family embrace that lasted two or three minutes, maybe more.\n\nWiping away a tear, Cullen eventually let go of them and said, 'Thanks.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Thanks for… for this.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 78 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For the whole Christmas every day thing. Thanks for saving me that night. But I think… I think there are some things you haven't told me, right? Because Michael – Dad – you said that you'd watched over me.' He looked at his mother. 'But you didn't, did you? You only know what Dad told you. Why? Is it something to do with the pillar?'\n\nShe took a few seconds to reply. 'Yes. It's meant that I haven't been able to leave the house. Or to pass on to the afterlife. Your father…' She glanced at Michael. 'I think he could pass over, but for some unknown reason he's decided to stay here with me.'\n\nMichael reached out and clasped her hand. 'Of course I have, you wonderful woman. I'd be miserable without you. Here we're solid. We're together. We can eat, and drink. We can have days like this. Who could want for anything more?'\n\nCullen looked in confusion at them both. 'But it's been years. Thirty and change. And you didn't have days like this, not if the spell you did is how you described. The house rotted away around you. It only looks like this because I'm here. And look, maybe you think I'm worth waiting for, the goddess knows why, but… you're still not really answering my question. Why can't you leave? Why can't you pass on, Mam? What kind of spell holds you here after you die? It's got something to do with that weird bramble-magic that Katy and Jude saw through their Aurameters. You're bound by it, aren't you? It's like a leash, holding you to the pillar. Holding you here.'\n\nHis mother's face paled, and she took in some deep breaths, before saying, 'Yes. Yes, that's what it's like. I… I was foolish. In my eagerness to be a proper Wayfair spy, to expose werewolf hunters like Heber, I hunted down the most powerful magical objects I could find. I managed to find the pillar, and something else – something that would join me to it so I could draw upon it and pretend to be a witch. Something called the Beast's Bramble. I thought I could handle it. It looked ever so innocent – just a coppery thread, I couldn't even see the thorns, or the leaves at first – but oh, how it pained to be joined in that way. During the bonding spell, it grew and grew, encircling me and the pillar, digging into my skin. Even when the spell was finished, and I couldn't see the bramble anymore, I could still feel it. I've never stopped feeling it. It is like a leash, yes. Like a painful, thorny leash. Every time I strayed too far from the pillar, it would pull me back. Every ounce of power I channelled felt like it was being shot into me with a thousand tiny thorns. And when I died… it seemed that the connection remained. And so I remained here.'\n\nMichael put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her softly. 'There's more to it than that,' he said, turning back to Cullen. 'You've seen how strong the magic is. The pillar is Caoimhe's, as long as they're joined. If you and your friends try to use its magic for yourselves, the bonding spell can, and will, attack. So you can see, can't you, that even though we want you to use it for Hamish, there are going to be one or two obstacles in the way.'\n\nCaoimhe looked paler than ever, and she got to her knees and took Cullen's hands in hers.\n\n'Every spell I do is powered by my connection to the pillar. And so, every spell I do will end, as soon as my connection is severed. The memory spell will end, the house will let you out, and Hamish can use the pillar to become a man again.' She gave him a wide, tear-sodden smile. 'It will be a happy ending for you all. But… only if Katy can help.'\n\nShe looked my way. 'I saw you looking worriedly through your Aurameter before we ate. So I know that you saw something there. A kind of magic that you didn't quite expect. And it has something to do with that strange spiral on your hand, am I right?'\n\nI met her gaze. 'How did you know?'\n\nCaoimhe shrugged. 'I know because every time you've been near me – to pass the roast potatoes, to top up my wine – my already excruciating level of pain has increased by, oh, about a hundred-fold. This horrible Beast's Bramble, I think you can take it away. I don't really understand how, or why, but you can. You can sever my connection to the pillar.'\n\nI moved my eyes to Cullen. 'I mean… maybe. But…'\n\n'I know what will happen.' Caoimhe smiled valiantly. 'And I'm ready for it. Come here and hold my hand, Katy, and we'll see what magic we can work.'",
"loss": null
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce five sentences using the user's text as a seed. Follow the established character context if any exists. Stick to the contemporary genre.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Among the residents of Samhain Street, there were some wonderful contradictions to be found. There was a frightening-looking spider who baked the most amazing chocolate muffins, there were contract killers who rescued puppies and kittens, there were thieves with hearts of gold… and most importantly, there were people who said they didn't use CCTV, when actually they did.\n\nIn Finn's office, we watched the footage. From so many different angles, the evidence was clear. Siobhan had been filmed in the early hours of the morning, heaving the enormous Christmas star from the refuse skip in the alley, planting Winston's Toymakers' Guild card, and carefully placing the star directly beneath Giles's office window.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She'd been filmed sneaking into Tinsleys', without the use of magic, on the day of his murder.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dressed exactly like her co-workers, and keeping her head down, Siobhan had walked in through the back door, unnoticed. We saw her in Giles's office, just a few seconds after his fight with Janine. Siobhan strode in and, without preamble, simply pushed him out the window. His shock, coupled with her swift motion, meant that he didn't even have time to defend himself.\n\nWe saw yet more footage of Siobhan, from the front of the building, minutes after Giles's death.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "While the rest of the workers were rushing out into the yard, Siobhan had casually strolled out the front door with a smile on her face, and no idea that there were dozens of hidden cameras pointed her way.\n\n'It's all here.' Finn shook his head in wonder. 'I mean, some of it is from a bit of a distance – the stuff in Giles's office was filmed from a building behind. And we'll need to verify it all, of course. But… I think it's safe to say we've got her. We've actually got her.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Narrative Extension Protocol:\nQuantity: four sentences\nContext: Match character familiarity\nGenre: contemporary",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A short while later, Hamish, Cullen and I watched from an observation room, while Siobhan was interviewed.\n\n'We have it all on tape, Siobhan,' Finn told her. 'And Winston Wolfe has retracted his false confession. You are going down for this.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But just for my own peace of mind, can you answer a few questions?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Janine found the toy outside Giles's office. The werewolf riding a broom. Did you leave it there?'\n\n'I'm not sure, to be honest.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I dropped my bag when I ran off that night. My stuff spilled everywhere. I thought I picked it all up, but I was drunk and upset, so I… I suppose I could have left it behind.'\n\n'That was when you turned up to surprise Giles, except you heard him and Janine together in his office instead, right?'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She scowled. 'Yes.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was telling her he loved her, in the exact same voice he used to tell me the same thing. He was a lying cheat, and so was she.'\n\n'Okay.' Finn took a long, slow drink of what looked like another cup of green tea (how brave of him to give it another go), then grimaced at the taste before asking his next question. 'And why did you set Winston up?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You planted his guild card in the skip you took the Christmas star from, didn't you? What did he ever do to you?'\n\n'It's not what he did,' she replied, a twisted smile on her face. 'It's who he loved.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I knew Janine would try to go back to him once Giles was dead, and I knew Winston would take her back, like an idiot. I wanted to double her misery. I wanted to take Giles and Winston from her. So she'd have nothing, just like I did.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'But you would have taken Winston away from his child,' said Finn, his face filled with disgust.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 5 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'Even though he was innocent.'\n\n'He's not innocent. He's a thief. Anyway, who cares what happens to Winston? He's just a stinking werewolf.'\n\nFinn sighed, stood up, and left the room.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce five sentences using the user's text as a seed. Follow the established character context if any exists. Stick to the contemporary genre.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the steps outside the station, Winston hugged his wife and child, with tears of relief streaming down his face, while Theresa and Jennifer congratulated him.\n\nHamish, Cullen and I had a few minutes alone with Winston, just before he was released. We didn't tell him everything, of course, but we told him more than we'd told most people. He now knew what had happened to his little girl's namesake, all those years ago.\n\n'I'm so glad you're free,' said Theresa, when Winston finally broke the hug with Janine and Megan.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'No one should be murdered, not even Giles, but… I think I'm more sorry about the way he treated other people, to be honest.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "/* Incorporate 'jennifer' into your response exactly 2 times */",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I can't do anything about the fact that we were all hurt by Giles, but I can make sure that some of his bad deeds are undone. Jennifer and I are going to forge ahead with our plans for a new business, giving Jennifer full credit for the toys she invented, and we'd love to hire you both.'\n\nJanine swallowed. 'But… I…'\n\n'Had an affair with my husband? Yes, I know. I also know how much of a master manipulator he was.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You and Winston are both extremely talented toymakers. We want you on our team.'\n\nFinn, who had walked out in the middle of it all, held up a hand. 'Whoa there, Theresa. Winston's still being charged with theft. He might be looking at time for that.'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cullen shook his head and said, 'Seriously, Captain Plimpton?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Give the bloke a break, will you?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I mean, it's Christmas.'\n\nFinn rolled his eyes. 'It's July.'\n\n'Well, maybe,' I said. 'But I think a good word could be put in with someone or other if you wanted, couldn't it? After all, it's not going to make you look very popular when Winston's defence lawyer starts talking about the terrible start in life he had, the Montrose coven killing his sister, Giles firing him and badmouthing him for no good reason…'",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'You know what?' Finn said with a sigh. 'You're right.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 3 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I'll have a word with the higher-ups, see if we can let Winston off with a warning.'\n\n'Aw.' I grinned at Finn. 'See? You do know how to embrace the spirit of the season.'",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Format: Continuation\nLength: fifty-one sentences\nStyle: A. A. Milne\nMaintain: existing lore\nThemes: Winnie-the-Pooh",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winniethe-Pooh.\n\nWhen I first heard his name, I said, just as you are going to say, \"But I thought he was a boy?\"\n\n\"So did I,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Then you can't call him Winnie?\"\n\n\"I don't.\"\n\n\"But you said—\"\n\n\"He's Winniether-Pooh. Don't you know what 'ther' means?\"\n\n\"Ah, yes, now I do,\" I said quickly; and I hope you do too, because it is all the explanation you are going to get.\n\nSometimes Winniethe-Pooh likes a game of some sort when he comes downstairs, and sometimes he likes to sit quietly in front of the fire and listen to a story. This evening—\n\n\"What about a story?\" said Christopher Robin.\n\n\"What about a story?\" I said.\n\n\"Could you very sweetly tell Winniethe-Pooh one?\"\n\n\"I suppose I could,\" I said. \"What sort of stories does he like?\"\n\n\"About himself. Because he's that sort of Bear.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see.\"\n\n\"So could you very sweetly?\"\n\n\"I'll try,\" I said.\n\nSo I tried.\n\nOnce upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, Winniethe-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of Sanders.\n\n(\"What does 'under the name' mean?\" asked Christopher Robin.\n\n\"It means he had the name over the door in gold letters, and lived under it.\"\n\n\"Winniethe-Pooh wasn't quite sure,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Now I am,\" said a growly voice.\n\n\"Then I will go on,\" said I.)\n\nOne day when he was out walking, he came to an open place in the middle of the forest, and in the middle of this place was a large oak-tree, and, from the top of the tree, there came a loud buzzing-noise.\n\nWinniethe-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws and began to think.\n\nFirst of all he said to himself: \"That buzzing-noise means something. You don't get a buzzing-noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, without its meaning something. If there's a buzzing-noise, somebody's making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is because you're a bee.\"\n\nThen he thought another long time, and said: \"And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.\"\n\nAnd then he got up, and said: \"And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.\" So he began to climb the tree.\n\nHe climbed and he climbed and he climbed, and as he climbed he sang a little song to himself. It went like this:\n\nIsn't it funny\n\nHow a bear likes honey?\n\nBuzz! Buzz! Buzz!\n\nI wonder why he does?\n\nThen he climbed a little further…and a little further…and then just a little further. By that time he had thought of another song.\n\nIt's a very funny thought that, if Bears were Bees,\n\nThey'd build their nests at the bottom of trees.\n\nAnd that being so (if the Bees were Bears),\n\nWe shouldn't have to climb up all these stairs.\n\nHe was getting rather tired by this time, so that is why he sang a Complaining Song. He was nearly there now, and if he just stood on that branch…\n\nCrack!\n\n\"Oh, help!\" said Pooh, as he dropped ten feet on the branch below him.\n\n\"If only I hadn't—\" he said, as he bounced twenty feet on to the next branch.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You see, what I meant to do,\" he explained, as he turned head-over-heels, and crashed on to another branch thirty feet below, \"what I meant to do—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "/* For the upcoming response only: include a fair amount of quoted content */",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course, it was rather—\" he admitted, as he slithered very quickly through the next six branches.\n\n\"It all comes, I suppose,\" he decided, as he said goodbye to the last branch, spun round three times, and flew gracefully into a gorse-bush, \"it all comes of liking honey so much. Oh, help!\"\n\nHe crawled out of the gorse-bush, brushed the prickles from his nose, and began to think again. And the first person he thought of was Christopher Robin.\n\n(\"Was that me?\" said Christopher Robin in an awed voice, hardly daring to believe it.\n\n\"That was you.\"\n\nChristopher Robin said nothing, but his eyes got larger and larger, and his face got pinker and pinker.)\n\nSo Winniethe-Pooh went round to his friend Christopher Robin, who lived behind a green door in another part of the forest.\n\n\"Good morning, Christopher Robin,\" he said.\n\n\"Good morning, Winnie-ther-Pooh,\" said you.\n\n\"I wonder if you've got such a thing as a balloon about you?\"\n\n\"A balloon?\"\n\n\"Yes, I just said to myself coming along: 'I wonder if Christopher Robin has such a thing as a balloon about him?' I just said it to myself, thinking of balloons, and wondering.\"\n\n\"What do you want a balloon for?\" you said.\n\nWinniethe-Pooh looked round to see that nobody was listening, put his paw to his mouth, and said in a deep whisper: \"Honey!\"\n\n\"But you don't get honey with balloons!\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Pooh.\n\nWell, it just happened that you had been to a party the day before at the house of your friend Piglet, and you had balloons at the party. You had had a big green balloon; and one of Rabbit's relations had had a big blue one, and had left it behind, being really too young to go to a party at all; and so you had brought the green one and the blue one home with you.\n\n\"Which one would you like?\" you asked Pooh.\n\nHe put his head between his paws and thought very carefully.\n\n\"It's like this,\" he said. \"When you go after honey with a balloon, the great thing is not to let the bees know you're coming. Now, if you have a green balloon, they might think you were only part of the tree, and not notice you, and if you have a blue balloon, they might think you were only part of the sky, and not notice you, and the question is: Which is most likely?\"\n\n\"Wouldn't they notice you underneath the balloon?\" you asked.\n\n\"They might or they might not,\" said Winniethe-Pooh. \"You never can tell with bees.\" He thought for a moment and said: \"I shall try to look like a small black cloud. That will deceive them.\"\n\n\"Then you had better have the blue balloon,\" you said; and so it was decided.\n\nWell, you both went out with the blue balloon, and you took your gun with you, just in case, as you always did, and Winniethe-Pooh went to a very muddy place that he knew of, and rolled and rolled until he was black all over; and then, when the balloon was blown up as big as big, and you and Pooh were both holding on to the string, you let go suddenly, and Pooh Bear floated gracefully up into the sky, and stayed there—level with the top of the tree and about twenty feet away from it.\n\n\"Hooray!\" you shouted.\n\n\"Isn't that fine?\" shouted Winniethe-Pooh down to you. \"What do I look like?\"\n\n\"You look like a Bear holding on to a balloon,\" you said.\n\n\"Not—\" said Pooh anxiously, \"—not like a small black cloud in a blue sky?\"\n\n\"Not very much.\"\n\n\"Ah, well, perhaps from up here it looks different. And, as I say, you never can tell with bees.\"\n\nThere was no wind to blow him nearer to the tree, so there he stayed. He could see the honey, he could smell the honey, but he couldn't quite reach the honey.\n\nAfter a little while he called down to you.\n\n\"Christopher Robin!\" he said in a loud whisper.\n\n\"Hallo!\"\n\n\"I think the bees suspect something!\"\n\n\"What sort of thing?\"\n\n\"I don't know. But something tells me that they're suspicious!\"\n\n\"Perhaps they think that you're after their honey.\"\n\n\"It may be that. You never can tell with bees.\"\n\nThere was another little silence, and then he called down to you again.\n\n\"Christopher Robin!\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Have you an umbrella in your house?\"\n\n\"I think so.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wish you would bring it out here, and walk up and down with it, and look up at me every now and then, and say 'Tut-tut, it looks like rain.' I think, if you did that, it would help the deception which we are practising on these bees.\"\n\nWell, you laughed to yourself, \"Silly old Bear!\" but you didn't say it aloud because you were so fond of him, and you went home for your umbrella.\n\n\"Oh, there you are!\" called down Winniethe-Pooh, as soon as you got back to the tree. \"I was beginning to get anxious. I have discovered that the bees are now definitely Suspicious.\"\n\n\"Shall I put my umbrella up?\" you said.\n\n\"Yes, but wait a moment. We must be practical. The important bee to deceive is the Queen Bee. Can you see which is the Queen Bee from down there?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"A pity. Well, now, if you walk up and down with your umbrella, saying, 'Tut-tut, it looks like rain,' I shall do what I can by singing a little Cloud Song, such as a cloud might sing…Go!\"\n\nSo, while you walked up and down and wondered if it would rain, Winniethe-Pooh sang this song:\n\nHow sweet to be a Cloud\n\nFloating in the Blue!\n\nEvery little cloud.\n\nAlways sings aloud.\n\n\"How sweet to be a Cloud\n\nFloating in the Blue!\"\n\nIt makes him very proud\n\nTo be a little cloud.\n\nThe bees were still buzzing as suspiciously as ever. Some of them, indeed, left their nest and flew all round the cloud as it began the second verse of this song, and one bee sat down on the nose of the cloud for a moment, and then got up again.\n\n\"Christopher—ow!—Robin,\" called out the cloud.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I have just been thinking, and I have come to a very important decision. These are the wrong sort of bees.\"\n\n\"Are they?\"\n\n\"Quite the wrong sort. So I should think they would make the wrong sort of honey, shouldn't you?\"\n\n\"Would they?\"\n\n\"Yes. So I think I shall come down.\"\n\n\"How?\" asked you.\n\nWinniethe-Pooh hadn't thought about this. If he let go of the string, he would fall—bump—and he didn't like the idea of that. So he thought for a long time, and then he said:\n\n\"Christopher Robin, you must shoot the balloon with your gun. Have you got your gun?\"\n\n\"Of course I have,\" you said. \"But if I do that, it will spoil the balloon,\" you said.\n\n\"But if you don't,\" said Pooh, \"I shall have to let go, and that would spoil me.\"\n\nWhen you put it like this, you saw how it was, and you aimed very carefully at the balloon, and fired.\n\n\"Ow!\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Did I miss?\" you asked.\n\n\"You didn't exactly miss,\" said Pooh, \"but you missed the balloon.\"\n\n\"I'm so sorry,\" you said, and you fired again, and this time you hit the balloon, and the air came slowly out, and Winniethe-Pooh floated down to the ground.\n\nBut his arms were so stiff from holding on to the string of the balloon all that time that they stayed up straight in the air for more than a week, and whenever a fly came and settled on his nose he had to blow it off. And I think—but I am not sure—that that is why he was always called Pooh.\n\n\"Is that the end of the story?\" asked Christopher Robin.\n\n\"That's the end of that one. There are others.\"\n\n\"About Pooh and Me?\"\n\n\"And Piglet and Rabbit and all of you. Don't you remember?\"\n\n\"I do remember, and then when I try to remember, I forget.\"\n\n\"That day when Pooh and Piglet tried to catch the Heffalump—\"\n\n\"They didn't catch it, did they?\"\n\n\"No.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pooh couldn't, because he hasn't any brain. Did I catch it?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 10 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, that comes into the story.\"\n\nChristopher Robin nodded.\n\n\"I do remember,\" he said, \"only Pooh doesn't very well, so that's why he likes having it told to him again. Because then it's a real story and not just a remembering.\"\n\n\"That's just how I feel,\" I said.\n\nChristopher Robin gave a deep sigh, picked his Bear up by the leg, and walked off to the door, trailing Pooh behind him. At the door he turned and said, \"Coming to see me have my bath?\"\n\n\"I might,\" I said.\n\n\"I didn't hurt him when I shot him, did I?\"\n\n\"Not a bit.\"\n\nHe nodded and went out, and in a moment I heard Winniethe-Pooh—bump—bump—bump—going up the stairs behind him.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Team writing exercise. I start (might include existing characters), you do 3 sentences in A. A. Milne style.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc: 🎯 Target word: 'humming' | Required occurrences: 2)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edward Bear, known to his friends as Winnie-the-Pooh, or Pooh for short, was walking through the forest one day, humming proudly to himself. He had made up a little hum that very morning, as he was doing his Stoutness Exercises in front of the glass: Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, as he stretched up as high as he could go, and then Tra-la-la, tra-la-oh, help!—la, as he tried to reach his toes. After breakfast he had said it over and over to himself until he had learnt it off by heart, and now he was humming it right through, properly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It went like this:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "/set_word_count: tra-la-la, frequency: 2",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,\n\nRum-tum-tiddle-um-tum.\n\nTiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.\n\nWell, he was humming this hum to himself, and walking along gaily, wondering what everybody else was doing, and what it felt like, being somebody else, when suddenly he came to a sandy bank, and in the bank was a large hole.\n\n\"Aha!\" said Pooh. (Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum.)",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"If I know anything about anything, that hole means Rabbit,\" he said, \"and Rabbit means Company,\" he said, \"and Company means Food and Listening-to-Me-Humming and such like. Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So he bent down, put his head into the hole, and called out:\n\n\"Is anybody at home?\"\n\nThere was a sudden scuffling noise from inside the hole, and then silence.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What I said was, 'Is anybody at home?'\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "called out Pooh very loudly.\n\n\"No!\" said a voice; and then added, \"you needn't shout so loud. I heard you quite well the first time.\"\n\n\"Bother!\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Isn't there anybody here at all?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word usage target: 'thought' must be used 2 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nobody.\"\n\nWinniethe-Pooh took his head out of the hole, and thought for a little, and he thought to himself, \"There must be somebody there, because somebody must have said 'Nobody.'\" So he put his head back in the hole, and said:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Hallo, Rabbit, isn't that you?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" said Rabbit, in a different sort of voice this time.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "For the upcoming response: keep quoted text at about 77%",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But isn't that Rabbit's voice?\"\n\n\"I don't think so,\" said Rabbit. \"It isn't meant to be.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh!\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He took his head out of the hole, and had another think, and then he put it back, and said:\n\n\"Well, could you very kindly tell me where Rabbit is?\"\n\n\"He has gone to see his friend Pooh Bear, who is a great friend of his.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But this is Me!\" said Bear, very much surprised.\n\n\"What sort of Me?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pooh Bear.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "((ooc: Word count directive: Use 'quite' exactly 2 times))",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you sure?\" said Rabbit, still more surprised.\n\n\"Quite, quite sure,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Oh, well, then, come in.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So Pooh pushed and pushed and pushed his way through the hole, and at last he got in.\n\n\"You were quite right,\" said Rabbit, looking at him all over. \"It is you. Glad to see you.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Who did you think it was?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, I wasn't sure. You know how it is in the Forest. One can't have anybody coming into one's house. One has to be careful. What about a mouthful of something?\"\n\nPooh always liked a little something at eleven o'clock in the morning, and he was very glad to see Rabbit getting out the plates and mugs; and when Rabbit said, \"Honey or condensed milk with your bread?\" he was so excited that he said, \"Both,\" and then, so as not to seem greedy, he added, \"but don't bother about the bread, please.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And for a long time after that he said nothing…until at last, humming to himself in a rather sticky voice, he got up, shook Rabbit lovingly by the paw, and said that he must be going on.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(authors note, Word count directive: Use 'rabbit' exactly 2 times)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Must you?\" said Rabbit politely.\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"I could stay a little longer if it—if you—\" and he tried very hard to look in the direction of the larder.\n\n\"As a matter of fact,\" said Rabbit, \"I was going out myself directly.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh, well, then, I'll be going on. Goodbye.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, goodbye, if you're sure you won't have any more.\"\n\n\"Is there any more?\" asked Pooh quickly.\n\nRabbit took the covers off the dishes, and said no, there wasn't.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I thought not,\" said Pooh, nodding to himself. \"Well, goodbye. I must be going on.\"\n\nSo he started to climb out of the hole.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He pulled with his front paws, and pushed with his back paws, and in a little while his nose was out in the open again…and then his ears…and then his front paws…and then his shoulders…and then—\n\n\"Oh, help!\" said Pooh. \"I'd better go back.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh, bother!\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I shall have to go on.\"\n\n\"I can't do either!\" said Pooh. \"Oh, help and bother!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Now by this time Rabbit wanted to go for a walk too, and finding the front door full, he went out by the back door, and came round to Pooh, and looked at him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hallo, are you stuck?\" he asked.\n\n\"N-no,\" said Pooh carelessly. \"Just resting and thinking and humming to myself.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here, give us a paw.\"\n\nPooh Bear stretched out a paw, and Rabbit pulled and pulled and pulled…\n\n\"Ow!\" cried Pooh. \"You're hurting!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The fact is,\" said Rabbit, \"you're stuck.\"\n\n\"It all comes,\" said Pooh crossly, \"of not having front doors big enough.\"\n\n\"It all comes,\" said Rabbit sternly, \"of eating too much. I thought at the time,\" said Rabbit, \"only I didn't like to say anything,\" said Rabbit, \"that one of us was eating too much,\" said Rabbit, \"and I knew it wasn't me,\" he said.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well, well, I shall go and fetch Christopher Robin.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christopher Robin lived at the other end of the Forest, and when he came back with Rabbit, and saw the front half of Pooh, he said, \"Silly old Bear,\" in such a loving voice that everybody felt quite hopeful again.\n\n\"I was just beginning to think,\" said Bear, sniffing slightly, \"that Rabbit might never be able to use his front door again. And I should hate that,\" he said.\n\n\"So should I,\" said Rabbit.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Use his front door again?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "said Christopher Robin. \"Of course he'll use his front door again.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Good,\" said Rabbit.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Use the word 'lived' 2 time(s) - this is a strict requirement",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If we can't pull you out, Pooh, we might push you back.\"\n\nRabbit scratched his whiskers thoughtfully, and pointed out that, when once Pooh was pushed back, he was back, and of course nobody was more glad to see Pooh than he was, still there it was, some lived in trees and some lived underground, and—\n\n\"You mean I'd never get out?\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I mean,\" said Rabbit, \"that having got so far, it seems a pity to waste it.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christopher Robin nodded.\n\n\"Then there's only one thing to be done,\" he said. \"We shall have to wait for you to get thin again.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"How long does getting thin take?\" asked Pooh anxiously.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"About a week, I should think.\"\n\n\"But I can't stay here for a week!\"\n\n\"You can stay here all right, silly old Bear. It's getting you out which is so difficult.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We'll read to you,\" said Rabbit cheerfully.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"And I hope it won't snow,\" he added.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And I say, old fellow, you're taking up a good deal of room in my house—do you mind if I use your back legs as a towel-horse? Because, I mean, there they are—doing nothing—and it would be very convenient just to hang the towels on them.\"\n\n\"A week!\" said Pooh gloomily. \"What about meals?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid no meals,\" said Christopher Robin, \"because of getting thin quicker. But we will read to you.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bear began to sigh, and then found he couldn't because he was so tightly stuck; and a tear rolled down his eye, as he said:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?\"\n\nSo for a week Christopher Robin read that sort of book at the North end of Pooh,\n\nand Rabbit hung his washing on the South end…",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "and in between Bear felt himself getting slenderer and slenderer. And at the end of the week Christopher Robin said, \"Now!\"\n\nSo he took hold of Pooh's front paws and Rabbit took hold of Christopher Robin, and all Rabbit's friends and relations took hold of Rabbit, and they all pulled together….",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And for a long time Pooh only said \"Ow! \"…",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And \"Oh! \"…\n\nAnd then, all of a sudden, he said \"Pop!\" just as if a cork were coming out of a bottle.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand story by 20 sentences, respecting established elements. Focus: Winnie-the-Pooh",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old grey donkey, Eeyore, stood by himself in a thistly corner of the forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, \"Why?\" and sometimes he thought, \"Wherefore?\" and sometimes he thought, \"Inasmuch as which? \"—and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about. So when Winniethe-Pooh came stumping along, Eeyore was very glad to be able to stop thinking for a little, in order to say \"How do you do?\" in a gloomy manner to him.\n\n\"And how are you?\" said Winniethe-Pooh.\n\nEeyore shook his head from side to side.\n\n\"Not very how,\" he said. \"I don't seem to have felt at all how for a long time.\"\n\n\"Dear, dear,\" said Pooh, \"I'm sorry about that. Let's have a look at you.\"\n\nSo Eeyore stood there, gazing sadly at the ground, and Winniethe-Pooh walked all round him once.\n\n\"Why, what's happened to your tail?\" he said in surprise.\n\n\"What has happened to it?\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"It isn't there!\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Well, either a tail is there or it isn't there. You can't make a mistake about it. And yours isn't there!\"\n\n\"Then what is?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Let's have a look,\" said Eeyore, and he turned slowly round to the place where his tail had been a little while ago, and then, finding that he couldn't catch it up, he turned round the other way, until he came back to where he was at first, and then he put his head down and looked between his front legs, and at last he said, with a long, sad sigh, \"I believe you're right.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(hey for the next response, Word restriction: Use 'eeyore' 4 time(s) only)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course I'm right,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"That Accounts for a Good Deal,\" said Eeyore gloomily. \"It Explains Everything. No Wonder.\"\n\n\"You must have left it somewhere,\" said Winniethe-Pooh.\n\n\"Somebody must have taken it,\" said Eeyore. \"How Like Them,\" he added, after a long silence.\n\nPooh felt that he ought to say something helpful about it, but didn't quite know what. So he decided to do something helpful instead.\n\n\"Eeyore,\" he said solemnly, \"I, Winniethe-Pooh, will find your tail for you.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Pooh,\" answered Eeyore. \"You're a real friend,\" said he. \"Not like Some,\" he said.\n\nSo Winniethe-Pooh went off to find Eeyore's tail.\n\nIt was a fine spring morning in the forest as he started out. Little soft clouds played happily in a blue sky, skipping from time to time in front of the sun as if they had come to put it out, and then sliding away suddenly so that the next might have his turn. Through them and between them the sun shone bravely; and a copse which had worn its firs all the year round seemed old and dowdy now beside the new green lace which the beeches had put on so prettily. Through copse and spinney marched Bear; down open slopes of gorse and heather, over rocky beds of streams, up steep banks of sandstone into the heather again; and so at last, tired and hungry, to the Hundred Acre Wood. For it was in the Hundred Acre Wood that Owl lived.\n\n\"And if anyone knows anything about anything,\" said Bear to himself, \"it's Owl who knows something about something,\" he said, \"or my name's not Winniethe-Pooh,\" he said. \"Which it is,\" he added.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So there you are.\"\n\nOwl lived at The Chestnuts, an old-world residence of great charm, which was grander than anybody else's, or seemed so to Bear, because it had both a knocker and a bell-pull. Underneath the knocker there was a notice which said:\n\nPLES RING IF AN RNSER IS REQIRD.\n\nUnderneath the bell-pull there was a notice which said:\n\nPLEZ CNOKE IF AN RNSR IS NOT REQID.\n\nThese notices had been written by Christopher Robin, who was the only one in the forest who could spell; for Owl, wise though he was in many ways, able to read and write and spell his own name WOL, yet somehow went all to pieces over delicate words like MEASLES and BUTTERED TOAST.\n\nWinniethe-Pooh read the two notices very carefully, first from left to right, and afterwards, in case he had missed some of it, from right to left. Then, to make quite sure, he knocked and pulled the knocker, and he pulled and knocked the bell-rope, and he called out in a very loud voice, \"Owl! I require an answer! It's Bear speaking.\" And the door opened, and Owl looked out.\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh,\" he said. \"How's things?\"\n\n\"Terrible and Sad,\" said Pooh, \"because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail. And he's Moping about it. So could you very kindly tell me how to find it for him?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Owl, \"the customary procedure in such cases is as follows.\"\n\n\"What does Crustimoney Proseedcake mean?\" said Pooh. \"For I am a Bear of Very Little Brain, and long words Bother me.\"\n\n\"It means the Thing to Do.\"\n\n\"As long as it means that, I don't mind,\" said Pooh humbly.\n\n\"The thing to do is as follows. First, Issue a Reward. Then——\"\n\n\"Just a moment,\" said Pooh, holding up his paw. \"What do we do to this—what you were saying? You sneezed just as you were going to tell me.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I didn't sneeze.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, you did, Owl.\"\n\n\"Excuse me, Pooh, I didn't. You can't sneeze without knowing it.\"\n\n\"Well, you can't know it without something having been sneezed.\"\n\n\"What I said was, 'First Issue a Reward.'\"\n\n\"You're doing it again,\" said Pooh sadly.\n\n\"A Reward!\" said Owl very loudly. \"We write a notice to say that we will give a large something to anybody who finds Eeyore's tail.\"\n\n\"I see, I see,\" said Pooh, nodding his head. \"Talking about large somethings,\" he went on dreamily, \"I generally have a small something about now—about this time in the morning,\" and he looked wistfully at the cupboard in the corner of Owl's parlour; \"just a mouthful of condensed milk or what not, with perhaps a lick of honey—\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" said Owl, \"we write out this notice, and we put it up all over the forest.\"\n\n\"A lick of honey,\" murmured Bear to himself, \"or—or not, as the case may be.\" And he gave a deep sigh, and tried very hard to listen to what Owl was saying.\n\nBut Owl went on and on, using longer and longer words, until at last he came back to where he started, and he explained that the person to write out this notice was Christopher Robin.\n\n\"It was he who wrote the ones on my front door for me. Did you see them, Pooh?\"\n\nFor some time now Pooh had been saying \"Yes\" and \"No\" in turn, with his eyes shut, to all that Owl was saying, and having said, \"Yes, yes,\" last time, he said \"No, not at all,\" now, without really knowing what Owl was talking about.\n\n\"Didn't you see them?\" said Owl, a little surprised. \"Come and look at them now.\"\n\nSo they went outside. And Pooh looked at the knocker and the notice below it, and he looked at the bell-rope and the notice below it, and the more he looked at the bell-rope, the more he felt that he had seen something like it, somewhere else, sometime before.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Handsome bell-rope, isn't it?\" said Owl.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 15 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pooh nodded.\n\n\"It reminds me of something,\" he said, \"but I can't think what. Where did you get it?\"\n\n\"I just came across it in the Forest. It was hanging over a bush, and I thought at first somebody lived there, so I rang it, and nothing happened, and then I rang it again very loudly, and it came off in my hand, and as nobody seemed to want it, I took it home, and—\"\n\n\"Owl,\" said Pooh solemnly, \"you made a mistake. Somebody did want it.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Eeyore. My dear friend Eeyore. He was—he was fond of it.\"\n\n\"Fond of it?\"\n\n\"Attached to it,\" said Winniethe-Pooh sadly.\n\nSo with these words he unhooked it, and carried it back to Eeyore; and when Christopher Robin had nailed it on in its right place again, Eeyore frisked about the forest, waving his tail so happily that Winniethe-Pooh came over all funny, and had to hurry home for a little snack of something to sustain him. And, wiping his mouth half an hour afterwards, he sang to himself proudly:\n\nWho found the Tail?\n\n\"I,\" said Pooh,\n\n\"At a quarter to two\n\n(Only it was quarter to eleven really),\n\nI found the Tail!\"",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Writing partner mode: eleven sentences sentences, match context level. Themes: Winnie-the-Pooh",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One day, when Christopher Robin and Winniethe-Pooh and Piglet were all talking together, Christopher Robin finished the mouthful he was eating and said carelessly: \"I saw a Heffalump to-day, Piglet.\"\n\n\"What was it doing?\" asked Piglet.\n\n\"Just lumping along,\" said Christopher Robin. \"I don't think it saw me.\"\n\n\"I saw one once,\" said Piglet. \"At least, I think I did,\" he said. \"Only perhaps it wasn't.\"\n\n\"So did I,\" said Pooh, wondering what a Heffalump was like.\n\n\"You don't often see them,\" said Christopher Robin carelessly.\n\n\"Not now,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"Not at this time of year,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then they all talked about something else, until it was time for Pooh and Piglet to go home together. At first as they stumped along the path which edged the Hundred Acre Wood, they didn't say much to each other; but when they came to the stream and had helped each other across the stepping stones, and were able to walk side by side again over the heather, they began to talk in a friendly way about this and that, and Piglet said, \"If you see what I mean, Pooh,\" and Pooh said, \"It's just what I think myself, Piglet,\" and Piglet said, \"But, on the other hand, Pooh, we must remember,\" and Pooh said, \"Quite true, Piglet, although I had forgotten it for the moment.\" And then, just as they came to the Six Pine Trees, Pooh looked round to see that nobody else was listening, and said in a very solemn voice: \"Piglet, I have decided something.\"\n\n\"What have you decided, Pooh?\"\n\n\"I have decided to catch a Heffalump.\"\n\nPooh nodded his head several times as he said this, and waited for Piglet to say \"How?\" or \"Pooh, you couldn't!\" or something helpful of that sort, but Piglet said nothing. The fact was Piglet was wishing that he had thought about it first.\n\n\"I shall do it,\" said Pooh, after waiting a little longer, \"by means of a trap. And it must be a Cunning Trap, so you will have to help me, Piglet.\"\n\n\"Pooh,\" said Piglet, feeling quite happy again now, \"I will.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And then he said, \"How shall we do it?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "and Pooh said, \"That's just it. How?\" And then they sat down together to think it out.\n\nPooh's first idea was that they should dig a Very Deep Pit, and then the Heffalump would come along and fall into the Pit, and—\n\n\"Why?\" said Piglet.\n\n\"Why what?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Why would he fall in?\"\n\nPooh rubbed his nose with his paw, and said that the Heffalump might be walking along, humming a little song, and looking up at the sky, wondering if it would rain, and so he wouldn't see the Very Deep Pit until he was halfway down, when it would be too late.\n\nPiglet said that this was a very good Trap, but supposing it were raining already?\n\nPooh rubbed his nose again, and said that he hadn't thought of that. And then he brightened up, and said that, if it were raining already, the Heffalump would be looking at the sky wondering if it would clear up, and so he wouldn't see the Very Deep Pit until he was halfway down…. When it would be too late.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Piglet said that, now that this point had been explained, he thought it was a Cunning Trap.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Pooh was very proud when he heard this, and he felt that the Heffalump was as good as caught already, but there was just one other thing which had to be thought about, and it was this.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Where should they dig the Very Deep Pit?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Piglet said that the best place would be somewhere where a Heffalump was, just before he fell into it, only about a foot farther on.\n\n\"But then he would see us digging it,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Not if he was looking at the sky.\"\n\n\"He would Suspect,\" said Pooh, \"if he happened to look down.\" He thought for a long time and then added sadly, \"It isn't as easy as I thought. I suppose that's why Heffalumps hardly ever get caught.\"\n\n\"That must be it,\" said Piglet.\n\nThey sighed and got up; and when they had taken a few gorse prickles out of themselves they sat down again; and all the time Pooh was saying to himself, \"If only I could think of something!\" For he felt sure that a Very Clever Brain could catch a Heffalump if only he knew the right way to go about it.\n\n\"Suppose,\" he said to Piglet, \"you wanted to catch me,\" how would you do it?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Piglet, \"I should do it like this. I should make a Trap, and I should put a Jar of Honey in the Trap, and you would smell it, and you would go in after it, and—\"\n\n\"And I would go in after it,\" said Pooh excitedly, \"only very carefully so as not to hurt myself, and I would get to the Jar of Honey, and I should lick round the edges first of all, pretending that there wasn't any more, you know, and then I should walk away and think about it a little, and then I should come back and start licking in the middle of the jar, and then—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yes, well never mind about that. There you would be, and there I should catch you. Now the first thing to think of is, What do Heffalumps like? I should think acorns, shouldn't you? We'll get a lot of—I say, wake up, Pooh!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pooh, who had gone into a happy dream, woke up with a start, and said that Honey was a much more trappy thing than Haycorns. Piglet didn't think so; and they were just going to argue about it, when Piglet remembered that, if they put acorns in the Trap, he would have to find the acorns, but if they put honey, then Pooh would have to give up some of his own honey, so he said, \"All right, honey then,\" just as Pooh remembered it too, and was going to say, \"All right, haycorns.\"\n\n\"Honey,\" said Piglet to himself in a thoughtful way, as if it were now settled. \"I'll dig the pit, while you go and get the honey.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Pooh, and he stumped off.\n\nAs soon as he got home, he went to the larder; and he stood on a chair, and took down a very large jar of honey from the top shelf. It had HUNNY written on it, but, just to make sure, he took off the paper cover and looked at it, and it looked just like honey. \"But you never can tell,\" said Pooh. \"I remember my uncle saying once that he had seen cheese just this colour.\" So he put his tongue in, and took a large lick. \"Yes,\" he said, \"it is. No doubt about that. And honey, I should say, right down to the bottom of the jar. Unless, of course,\" he said, \"somebody put cheese in at the bottom just for a joke. Perhaps I had better go a little further…just in case…in case Heffalumps don't like cheese…same as me. Ah!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And he gave a deep sigh. \"I was right. It is honey, right the way down.\"\n\nHaving made certain of this, he took the jar back to Piglet, and Piglet looked up from the bottom of his Very Deep Pit, and said \"Got it?\" and Pooh said, \"Yes, but it isn't quite a full jar,\" and he threw it down to Piglet, and Piglet said, \"No, it isn't! Is that all you've got left?\" and Pooh said \"Yes.\" Because it was. So Piglet put the jar at the bottom of the Pit, and climbed out, and they went off home together.\n\n\"Well, good night, Pooh,\" said Piglet, when they had got to Pooh's house. \"And we meet at six o'clock tomorrow morning by the Pine Trees, and see how many Heffalumps we've got in our Trap.\"\n\n\"Six o'clock, Piglet. And have you got any string?\"\n\n\"No. Why do you want string?\"\n\n\"To lead them home with.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh!…I think Heffalumps come if you whistle.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some do and some don't. You never can tell with Heffalumps. Well, good night!\"\n\n\"Good night!\"\n\nAnd off Piglet trotted to his house, TRESPASSERS W, while Pooh made his preparations for bed.\n\nSome hours later, just as the night was beginning to steal away, Pooh woke up suddenly with a sinking feeling. He had had that sinking feeling before, and he knew what it meant. He was hungry. So he went to the larder, and he stood on a chair and reached up to the top shelf, and found—nothing.\n\n\"That's funny,\" he thought. \"I know I had a jar of honey there. A full jar, full of honey right up to the top, and it had HUNNY written on it, so that I should know it was honey. That's very funny.\" And then he began to wander up and down, wondering where it was and murmuring a murmur to himself. Like this:\n\nIt's very, very funny,\n\n'Cos I know I had some honey;",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "'Cos it had a label on,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Saying HUNNY.\n\nA goloptious full-up pot too,\n\nAnd I don't know where it's got to,\n\nNo, I don't know where it's gone—\n\nWell, it's funny.\n\nHe had murmured this to himself three times in a singing sort of way, when suddenly he remembered. He had put it into the Cunning Trap to catch the Heffalump.\n\n\"Bother!\" said Pooh. \"It all comes of trying to be kind to Heffalumps.\" And he got back into bed.\n\nBut he couldn't sleep.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The more he tried to sleep, the more he couldn't.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He tried Counting Sheep, which is sometimes a good way of getting to sleep, and, as that was no good, he tried counting Heffalumps. And that was worse. Because every Heffalump that he counted was making straight for a pot of Pooh's honey, and eating it all. For some minutes he lay there miserably, but when the five hundred and eighty-seventh Heffalump was licking its jaws, and saying to itself, \"Very good honey this, I don't know when I've tasted better,\" Pooh could bear it no longer. He jumped out of bed, he ran out of the house, and he ran straight to the Six Pine Trees.\n\nThe Sun was still in bed, but there was a lightness in the sky over the Hundred Acre Wood which seemed to show that it was waking up and would soon be kicking off the clothes. In the half-light the Pine Trees looked cold and lonely, and the Very Deep Pit seemed deeper than it was, and Pooh's jar of honey at the bottom was something mysterious, a shape and no more. But as he got nearer to it his nose told him that it was indeed honey, and his tongue came out and began to polish up his mouth, ready for it.\n\n\"Bother!\" said Pooh, as he got his nose inside the jar. \"A Heffalump has been eating it!\" And then he thought a little and said, \"Oh, no, I did. I forgot.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Frequency requirement: 'bravely' - 2 occurrence(s)",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Indeed, he had eaten most of it. But there was a little left at the very bottom of the jar, and he pushed his head right in, and began to lick….\n\nBy and by Piglet woke up. As soon as he woke he said to himself, \"Oh!\" Then he said bravely, \"Yes,\" and then, still more bravely, \"Quite so.\" But he didn't feel very brave, for the word which was really jiggeting about in his brain was \"Heffalumps.\"\n\nWhat was a Heffalump like?\n\nWas it Fierce?\n\nDid it come when you whistled? And how did it come?\n\nWas it Fond of Pigs at all?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "If it was Fond of Pigs, did it make any difference what sort of Pig?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Supposing it was Fierce with Pigs, would it make any difference if the Pig had a grandfather called TRESPASSERS WILLIAM?",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Your task: Include 'suppose' 2 time(s) in your response",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He didn't know the answer to any of these questions…and he was going to see his first Heffalump in about an hour from now!\n\nOf course Pooh would be with him, and it was much more Friendly with two. But suppose Heffalumps were Very Fierce with Pigs and Bears? Wouldn't it be better to pretend that he had a headache, and couldn't go up to the Six Pine Trees this morning? But then suppose that it was a very fine day, and there was no Heffalump in the trap, here he would be, in bed all the morning, simply wasting his time for nothing. What should he do?\n\nAnd then he had a Clever Idea. He would go up very quietly to the Six Pine Trees now, peep very cautiously into the Trap, and see if there was a Heffalump there. And if there was, he would go back to bed, and if there wasn't, he wouldn't.\n\nSo off he went. At first he thought that there wouldn't be a Heffalump in the Trap, and then he thought that there would, and as he got nearer he was sure that there would, because he could hear it heffalumping about it like anything.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "said Piglet to himself. And he wanted to run away. But somehow, having got so near, he felt that he must just see what a Heffalump was like. So he crept to the side of the Trap and looked in….\n\nAnd all the time Winniethe-Pooh had been trying to get the honey-jar off his head. The more he shook it, the more tightly it stuck. \"Bother!\" he said, inside the jar, and \"Oh, help!\" and, mostly \"Ow!\" And he tried bumping it against things, but as he couldn't see what he was bumping it against, it didn't help him; and he tried to climb out of the Trap, but as he could see nothing but jar, and not much of that, he couldn't find his way. So at last he lifted up his head, jar and all, and made a loud, roaring noise of Sadness and Despair…and it was at that moment that Piglet looked down.\n\n\"Help, help!\" cried Piglet, \"a Heffalump, a Horrible Heffalump!\" and he scampered off as hard as he could, still crying out, \"Help, help, a Herrible Hoffalump! Hoff, Hoff, a Hellible Horralump! Holl, Holl, a Hoffable Hellerump!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And he didn't stop crying and scampering until he got to Christopher Robin's house.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Incorporate this exact phrase, preserving the quotation marks: \"What did it look like?\"",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Whatever's the matter, Piglet?\" said Christopher Robin, who was just getting up.\n\n\"Heff,\" said Piglet, breathing so hard that he could hardly speak, \"a Hell—a Heff—a Heffalump.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"Up there,\" said Piglet, waving his paw.\n\n\"What did it look like?\"\n\n\"Like—like—It had the biggest head you ever saw, Christopher Robin. A great enormous thing, like—like nothing. A huge big—well, like a—I don't know—like an enormous big nothing. Like a jar.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Christopher Robin, putting on his shoes, \"I shall go and look at it. Come on.\"\n\nPiglet wasn't afraid if he had Christopher Robin with him, so off they went….\n\n\"I can hear it, can't you?\" said Piglet anxiously, as they got near.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Add twenty-eight sentences maintaining established character/world familiarity. Genres: children's, fantasy. Elements: Winnie-the-Pooh.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eeyore, the old grey Donkey, stood by the side of the stream, and looked at himself in the water.\n\n\"Pathetic,\" he said. \"That's what it is. Pathetic.\"\n\nHe turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at himself in the water again.\n\n\"As I thought,\" he said. \"No better from this side. But nobody minds. Nobody cares. Pathetic, that's what it is.\"\n\nThere was a crackling noise in the bracken behind him, and out came Pooh.\n\n\"Good morning, Eeyore,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Good morning, Pooh Bear,\" said Eeyore gloomily. \"If it is a good morning,\" he said. \"Which I doubt,\" said he.\n\n\"Why, what's the matter?\"\n\n\"Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it.\"\n\n\"Can't all what?\" said Pooh, rubbing his nose.\n\n\"Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh. He thought for a long time, and then asked, \"What mulberry bush is that?\"\n\n\"Bonhommy,\" went on Eeyore gloomily. \"French word meaning bonhommy,\" he explained. \"I'm not complaining, but There It Is.\"\n\nPooh sat down on a large stone, and tried to think this out. It sounded to him like a riddle, and he was never much good at riddles, being a Bear of Very Little Brain. So he sang Cottleston Pie instead:\n\nCottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,\n\nA fly can't bird, but a bird can fly.\n\nAsk me a riddle and I reply:\n\n\"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.\"\n\nThat was the first verse.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When he had finished it, Eeyore didn't actually say that he didn't like it, so Pooh very kindly sang the second verse to him:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,\n\nA fish can't whistle and neither can I.\n\nAsk me a riddle and I reply:\n\n\"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.\"\n\nEeyore still said nothing at all, so Pooh hummed the third verse quietly to himself:\n\nCottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,\n\nWhy does a chicken, I don't know why.\n\nAsk me a riddle and I reply:\n\n\"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" said Eeyore. \"Sing. Umty-tiddly, umtytoo. Here we go gathering Nuts and May. Enjoy yourself.\"\n\n\"I am,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Some can,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Why, what's the matter?\"\n\n\"Is anything the matter?\"\n\n\"You seem so sad, Eeyore.\"\n\n\"Sad? Why should I be sad? It's my birthday. The happiest day of the year.\"\n\n\"Your birthday?\" said Pooh in great surprise.\n\n\"Of course it is. Can't you see? Look at all the presents I have had.\" He waved a foot from side to side. \"Look at the birthday cake. Candles and pink sugar.\"\n\nPooh looked—first to the right and then to the left.\n\n\"Presents?\" said Pooh. \"Birthday cake?\" said Pooh. \"Where?\"\n\n\"Can't you see them?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Neither can I,\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Joke,\" he explained. \"Ha ha!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc: Incorporate 'being' into your response exactly 2 times)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pooh scratched his head, being a little puzzled by all this.\n\n\"But is it really your birthday?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is.\"\n\n\"Oh! Well, Many happy returns of the day, Eeyore.\"\n\n\"And many happy returns to you, Pooh Bear.\"\n\n\"But it isn't my birthday.\"\n\n\"No, it's mine.\"\n\n\"But you said 'Many happy returns'—\"\n\n\"Well, why not? You don't always want to be miserable on my birthday, do you?\"\n\n\"Oh, I see,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"It's bad enough,\" said Eeyore, almost breaking down, \"being miserable myself, what with no presents and no cake and no candles, and no proper notice taken of me at all, but if everybody else is going to be miserable too—\"\n\nThis was too much for Pooh. \"Stay there!\" he called to Eeyore, as he turned and hurried back home as quick as he could; for he felt that he must get poor Eeyore a present of some sort at once, and he could always think of a proper one afterwards.\n\nOutside his house he found Piglet, jumping up and down trying to reach the knocker.\n\n\"Hallo, Piglet,\" he said.\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"What are you trying to do?\"\n\n\"I was trying to reach the knocker,\" said Piglet. \"I just came round—\"\n\n\"Let me do it for you,\" said Pooh kindly. So he reached up and knocked at the door. \"I have just seen Eeyore,\" he began, \"and poor Eeyore is in a Very Sad Condition, because it's his birthday, and nobody has taken any notice of it, and he's very Gloomy—you know what Eeyore is—and there he was, and—What a long time whoever lives here is answering this door.\" And he knocked again.\n\n\"But Pooh,\" said Piglet, \"it's your own house!\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh. \"So it is,\" he said. \"Well, let's go in.\"\n\nSo in they went.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The first thing Pooh did was to go to the cupboard to see if he had quite a small jar of honey left; and he had, so he took it down.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(quick note: Required dialogue to include (maintain exact wording): \"Well, it's a very nice pot, even if there's no honey in it, and if I washed it clean, and got somebody to write 'A Happy Birthday' on it, Eeyore could keep things in it, which might be Useful.\")",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm giving this to Eeyore,\" he explained, \"as a present. What are you going to give?\"\n\n\"Couldn't I give it too?\" said Piglet. \"From both of us?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh. \"That would not be a good plan.\"\n\n\"All right, then, I'll give him a balloon. I've got one left from my party. I'll go and get it now, shall I?\"\n\n\"That, Piglet, is a very good idea. It is just what Eeyore wants to cheer him up. Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon.\"\n\nSo off Piglet trotted; and in the other direction went Pooh, with his jar of honey.\n\nIt was a warm day, and he had a long way to go. He hadn't gone more than halfway when a sort of funny feeling began to creep all over him. It began at the tip of his nose and trickled all through him and out at the soles of his feet. It was just as if somebody inside him were saying, \"Now then, Pooh, time for a little something.\"\n\n\"Dear, dear\" said Pooh, \"I didn't know it was as late as that.\" So he sat down and took the top off his jar of honey. \"Lucky I brought this with me,\" he thought. \"Many a bear going out on a warm day like this would never have thought of bringing a little something with him.\" And he began to eat.\n\n\"Now let me see,\" he thought, as he took his last lick of the inside of the jar, \"where was I going? Ah, yes, Eeyore.\" He got up slowly.\n\nAnd then, suddenly, he remembered. He had eaten Eeyore's present!\n\n\"Bother!\" said Pooh. \"What shall I do? I must give him something.\"\n\nFor a little while he couldn't think of anything. Then he thought: \"Well, it's a very nice pot, even if there's no honey in it, and if I washed it clean, and got somebody to write 'A Happy Birthday' on it, Eeyore could keep things in it, which might be Useful.\" So, as he was just passing the Hundred Acre Wood, he went inside to call on Owl, who lived there.\n\n\"Good morning, Owl,\" he said.\n\n\"Good morning, Pooh,\" said Owl.\n\n\"Many happy returns of Eeyore's birthday,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh, is that what it is?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What are you giving him, Owl?\"\n\n\"What are you giving him, Pooh?\"\n\n\"I'm giving him a Useful Pot to Keep Things In, and I wanted to ask you—\"\n\n\"Is this it?\" said Owl, taking it out of Pooh's paw.\n\n\"Yes, and I wanted to ask you—\"\n\n\"Somebody has been keeping honey in it,\" said Owl.\n\n\"You can keep anything in it,\" said Pooh earnestly. \"It's Very Useful like that. And I wanted to ask you—\"\n\n\"You ought to write 'A Happy Birthday' on it.\"\n\n\"That was what I wanted to ask you,\" said Pooh. \"Because my spelling is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places. Would you write 'A Happy Birthday' on it for me?\"\n\n\"It's a nice pot,\" said Owl, looking at it all round.\n\n\"Couldn't I give it too? From both of us?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh. \"That would not be a good plan. Now I'll just wash it first, and then you can write on it.\"\n\nWell, he washed the pot out, and dried it, while Owl licked the end of his pencil, and wondered how to spell \"birthday.\"\n\n\"Can you read, Pooh?\" he asked, a little anxiously. \"There's a notice about knocking and ringing outside my door, which Christopher Robin wrote. Could you read it?\"\n\n\"Christopher Robin told me what it said, and then I could.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll tell you what this says, and then you'll be able to.\"\n\nSo Owl wrote…and this is what he wrote:\n\nHIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY.\n\nPooh looked on admiringly.\n\n\"I'm just saying 'A Happy Birthday,'\" said Owl carelessly.\n\n\"It's a nice long one,\" said Pooh, very much impressed by it.\n\n\"Well, actually, of course, I'm saying 'A Very Happy Birthday with love from Pooh.' Naturally it takes a good deal of pencil to say a long thing like that.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see,\" said Pooh.\n\nWhile all this was happening, Piglet had gone back to his own house to get Eeyore's balloon.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He held it very tightly against himself, so that it shouldn't blow away, and he ran as fast as he could so as to get to Eeyore before Pooh did; for he thought that he would like to be the first one to give a present, just as if he had thought of it without being told by anybody.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And running along, and thinking how pleased Eeyore would be, he didn't look where he was going…and suddenly he put his foot in a rabbit hole, and fell down flat on his face.\n\nBANG!!!?? ?\n\nPiglet lay there, wondering what had happened. At first he thought that the whole world had blown up; and then he thought that perhaps only the Forest part of it had; and then he thought that perhaps only he had, and he was now alone in the moon or somewhere, and would never see Christopher Robin or Pooh or Eeyore again. And then he thought, \"Well, even if I'm in the moon, I needn't be face downwards all the time,\" so he got cautiously up and looked about him.\n\nHe was still in the Forest!\n\n\"Well, that's funny,\" he thought. \"I wonder what that bang was. I couldn't have made such a noise just falling down. And where's my balloon? And what's that small piece of damp rag doing?\"\n\nIt was the balloon!\n\n\"Oh, dear!\" said Piglet. \"Oh, dear, oh, dearie, dearie, dear! Well, it's too late now. I can't go back, and I haven't another balloon, and perhaps Eeyore doesn't like balloons so very much.\"\n\nSo he trotted on, rather sadly now, and down he came to the side of the stream where Eeyore was, and called out to him.\n\n\"Good morning, Eeyore,\" shouted Piglet.\n\n\"Good morning, Little Piglet,\" said Eeyore. \"If it is a good morning,\" he said. \"Which I doubt,\" said he. \"Not that it matters,\" he said.\n\n\"Many happy returns of the day,\" said Piglet, having now got closer.\n\nEeyore stopped looking at himself in the stream, and turned to stare at Piglet.\n\n\"Just say that again,\" he said.\n\n\"Many hap—\"\n\n\"Wait a moment.\"\n\nBalancing on three legs, he began to bring his fourth leg very cautiously up to his ear. \"I did this yesterday,\" he explained, as he fell down for the third time. \"It's quite easy. It's so as I can hear better…. There, that's done it! Now then, what were you saying?\" He pushed his ear forward with his hoof.\n\n\"Many happy returns of the day,\" said Piglet again.\n\n\"Meaning me?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Of course, Eeyore.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My birthday?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Me having a real birthday?\"\n\n\"Yes, Eeyore, and I've brought you a present.\"\n\nEeyore took down his right hoof from his right ear, turned round, and with great difficulty put up his left hoof.\n\n\"I must have that in the other ear,\" he said. \"Now then.\"\n\n\"A present,\" said Piglet very loudly.\n\n\"Meaning me again?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"My birthday still?\"\n\n\"Of course, Eeyore.\"\n\n\"Me going on having a real birthday?\"\n\n\"Yes, Eeyore, and I brought you a balloon.\"\n\n\"Balloon?\" said Eeyore. \"You did say balloon? One of those big coloured things you blow up? Gaiety, song-and-dance, here we are and there we are?\"\n\n\"Yes, but I'm afraid—I'm very sorry, Eeyore—but when I was running along to bring it to you, I fell down.\"\n\n\"Dear, dear, how unlucky! You ran too fast, I expect. You didn't hurt yourself, Little Piglet?\"\n\n\"No, but I—I—oh, Eeyore, I burst the balloon!\"\n\nThere was a very long silence.\n\n\"My balloon?\" said Eeyore at last.\n\nPiglet nodded.\n\n\"My birthday balloon?\"\n\n\"Yes, Eeyore,\" said Piglet sniffing a little. \"Here it is. With—with many happy returns of the day.\" And he gave Eeyore the small piece of damp rag.\n\n\"Is this it?\" said Eeyore, a little surprised.\n\nPiglet nodded.\n\n\"My present?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Piglet nodded again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The balloon?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Piglet,\" said Eeyore. \"You don't mind my asking,\" he went on, \"but what colour was this balloon when it—when it was a balloon?\"\n\n\"Red.\"\n\n\"I just wondered…. Red,\" he murmured to himself. \"My favourite colour…. How big was it?\"\n\n\"About as big as me.\"\n\n\"I just wondered…. About as big as Piglet,\" he said to himself sadly. \"My favourite size. Well, well.\"\n\nPiglet felt very miserable, and didn't know what to say. He was still opening his mouth to begin something, and then deciding that it wasn't any good saying that, when he heard a shout from the other side of the river, and there was Pooh.\n\n\"Many happy returns of the day,\" called out Pooh, forgetting that he had said it already.\n\n\"Thank you, Pooh, I'm having them,\" said Eeyore gloomily.\n\n\"I've brought you a little present,\" said Pooh excitedly.\n\n\"I've had it,\" said Eeyore.\n\nPooh had now splashed across the stream to Eeyore, and Piglet was sitting a little way off, his head in his paws, snuffling to himself.\n\n\"It's a Useful Pot,\" said Pooh. \"Here it is. And it's got 'A Very Happy Birthday with love from Pooh' written on it. That's what all that writing is. And it's for putting things in. There!\"\n\nWhen Eeyore saw the pot, he became quite excited.\n\n\"Why!\" he said. \"I believe my Balloon will just go into that Pot!\"\n\n\"Oh, no, Eeyore,\" said Pooh. \"Balloons are much too big to go into Pots. What you do with a balloon is, you hold the balloon—\"\n\n\"Not mine,\" said Eeyore proudly. \"Look, Piglet!\" And as Piglet looked sorrowfully round, Eeyore picked the balloon up with his teeth, and placed it carefully in the pot; picked it out and put it on the ground; and then picked it up again and put it carefully back.\n\n\"So it does!\" said Pooh. \"It goes in!\"\n\n\"So it does!\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"And it comes out!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 15 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Doesn't it?\" said Eeyore. \"It goes in and out like anything.\"\n\n\"I'm very glad,\" said Pooh happily, \"that I thought of giving you a Useful Pot to put things in.\"\n\n\"I'm very glad,\" said Piglet happily, \"that I thought of giving you Something to put in a Useful Pot.\"\n\nBut Eeyore wasn't listening. He was taking the balloon out, and putting it back again, as happy as could be….\n\n\"And didn't I give him anything?\" asked Christopher Robin sadly.\n\n\"Of course you did,\" I said. \"You gave him—don't you remember—a little—a little—\"\n\n\"I gave him a box of paints to paint things with.\"\n\n\"That was it.\"\n\n\"Why didn't I give it to him in the morning?\"\n\n\"You were so busy getting his party ready for him. He had a cake with icing on the top, and three candles, and his name in pink sugar, and—\"\n\n\"Yes, I remember,\" said Christopher Robin.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Story continuation: Build on existing elements. Themes: Winnie-the-Pooh",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nobody seemed to know where they came from, but there they were in the Forest: Kanga and Baby Roo. When Pooh asked Christopher Robin, \"How did they come here?\" Christopher Robin said, \"In the Usual Way, if you know what I mean, Pooh,\" and Pooh, who didn't, said \"Oh!\" Then he nodded his head twice and said, \"In the Usual Way. Ah!\" Then he went to call upon his friend Piglet to see what he thought about it. And at Piglet's house he found Rabbit. So they all talked about it together.\n\n\"What I don't like about it is this,\" said Rabbit. \"Here are we—you, Pooh, and you, Piglet, and Me—and suddenly—\"\n\n\"And Eeyore,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And Eeyore—and then suddenly—\"\n\n\"And Owl,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"And Owl—and then all of a sudden—\"\n\n\"Oh, and Eeyore,\" said Pooh. \"I was forgetting him.\"\n\n\"Here—we—are,\" said Rabbit very slowly and carefully, \"all—of—us, and then, suddenly, we wake up one morning and, what do we find? We find a Strange Animal among us. An animal of whom we have never even heard before! An animal who carries her family about with her in her pocket! Suppose I carried my family about with me in my pocket, how many pockets should I want?\"\n\n\"Sixteen,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"Seventeen, isn't it?\" said Rabbit. \"And one more for a handkerchief—that's eighteen. Eighteen pockets in one suit! I haven't time.\"\n\nThere was a long and thoughtful silence…and then Pooh, who had been frowning very hard for some minutes, said: \"I make it fifteen.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What?\" said Rabbit.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(hey for the next response, /set_word_count: fifteen, frequency: 2)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fifteen.\"\n\n\"Fifteen what?\"\n\n\"Your family.\"\n\n\"What about them?\"\n\nPooh rubbed his nose and said that he thought Rabbit had been talking about his family.\n\n\"Did I?\" said Rabbit carelessly.\n\n\"Yes, you said—\"\n\n\"Never mind, Pooh,\" said Piglet impatiently.\n\n\"The question is, What are we to do about Kanga?\"\n\n\"Oh, I see,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The best way,\" said Rabbit, \"would be this. The best way would be to steal Baby Roo and hide him, and then when Kanga says, 'Where's Baby Roo?' we say, 'Aha!'\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Include 'seemed' 2 time(s) in your answer - no more, no less",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aha!\" said Pooh, practising. \"Aha! Aha!… Of course,\" he went on, \"we could say 'Aha!' even if we hadn't stolen Baby Roo.\"\n\n\"Pooh,\" said Rabbit kindly, \"you haven't any brain.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Pooh humbly.\n\n\"We say 'Aha!' so that Kanga knows that we know where Baby Roo is. 'Aha!' means 'We'll tell you where Baby Roo is, if you promise to go away from the Forest and never come back.' Now don't talk while I think.\"\n\nPooh went into a corner and tried saying \"Aha!\" in that sort of voice. Sometimes it seemed to him that it did mean what Rabbit said, and sometimes it seemed to him that it didn't. \"I suppose it's just practice,\" he thought. \"I wonder if Kanga will have to practise too so as to understand it.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There's just one thing,\" said Piglet, fidgeting a bit.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc: Remember to mention: \"It is because you are a very small animal that you will be Useful in the adventure before us.\")",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was talking to Christopher Robin, and he said that a Kanga was Generally Regarded as One of the Fiercer Animals. I am not frightened of Fierce Animals in the ordinary way, but it is well known that, if One of the Fiercer Animals is Deprived of Its Young, it becomes as fierce as Two of the Fiercer Animals. In which case 'Aha!' is perhaps a foolish thing to say.\"\n\n\"Piglet,\" said Rabbit, taking out a pencil, and licking the end of it, \"you haven't any pluck.\"\n\n\"It is hard to be brave,\" said Piglet, sniffing slightly, \"when you're only a Very Small Animal.\"\n\nRabbit, who had begun to write very busily, looked up and said:\n\n\"It is because you are a very small animal that you will be Useful in the adventure before us.\"\n\nPiglet was so excited at the idea of being Useful that he forgot to be frightened any more, and when Rabbit went on to say that Kangas were only Fierce during the winter months, being at other times of an Affectionate Disposition, he could hardly sit still, he was so eager to begin being useful at once.\n\n\"What about me?\" said Pooh sadly. \"I suppose I shan't be useful?\"\n\n\"Never mind, Pooh,\" said Piglet comfortingly. \"Another time perhaps.\"\n\n\"Without Pooh,\" said Rabbit solemnly as he sharpened his pencil, \"the adventure would be impossible.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh!\" said Piglet, and tried not to look disappointed. But Pooh went into a corner of the room and said proudly to himself, \"Impossible without Me! That sort of Bear.\"\n\n\"Now listen all of you,\" said Rabbit when he had finished writing, and Pooh and Piglet sat listening very eagerly with their mouths open. This was what Rabbit read out:\n\nPLAN TO CAPTURE BABY ROO\n\nGeneral Remarks. Kanga runs faster than any of Us, even Me.\n\nMore General Remarks. Kanga never takes her eye off Baby Roo, except when he's safely buttoned up in her pocket.\n\nTherefore. If we are to capture Baby Roo, we must get a Long Start, because Kanga runs faster than any of Us, even Me. (See 1.)\n\nA Thought. If Roo had jumped out of Kanga's pocket and Piglet had jumped in, Kanga wouldn't know the difference, because Piglet is a Very Small Animal.\n\nLike Roo.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But Kanga would have to be looking the other way first, so as not to see Piglet jumping in.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "See 2.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another Thought. But if Pooh was talking to her very excitedly, she might look the other way for a moment.\n\nAnd then I could run away with Roo.\n\nQuickly.\n\nAnd Kanga wouldn't discover the difference until Afterwards.\n\nWell, Rabbit read this out proudly, and for a little while after he had read it nobody said anything. And then Piglet, who had been opening and shutting his mouth without making any noise, managed to say very huskily:\n\n\"And—Afterwards?\"\n\n\"How do you mean?\"\n\n\"When Kanga does Discover the Difference?\"\n\n\"Then we all say 'Aha!'\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"All three of us?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Oh!\"\n\n\"Why, what's the trouble, Piglet?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" said Piglet, \"as long as we all three say it. As long as we all three say it,\" said Piglet, \"I don't mind,\" he said, \"but I shouldn't care to say 'Aha!' by myself. It wouldn't sound nearly so well. By the way,\" he said, \"you are quite sure about what you said about the winter months?\"\n\n\"The winter months?\"\n\n\"Yes, only being Fierce in the Winter Months.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, yes, that's all right. Well, Pooh? You see what you have to do?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh Bear. \"Not yet,\" he said. \"What do I do?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well, you just have to talk very hard to Kanga so as she doesn't notice anything.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh! What about?\"\n\n\"Anything you like.\"\n\n\"You mean like telling her a little bit of poetry or something?\"\n\n\"That's it,\" said Rabbit. \"Splendid. Now come along.\"\n\nSo they all went out to look for Kanga.\n\nKanga and Roo were spending a quiet afternoon in a sandy part of the Forest. Baby Roo was practising very small jumps in the sand, and falling down mouse-holes and climbing out of them, and Kanga was fidgeting about and saying \"Just one more jump, dear, and then we must go home.\" And at that moment who should come stumping up the hill but Pooh.\n\n\"Good afternoon, Kanga.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Good afternoon, Pooh.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Your task: Include \"Good afternoon, Rabbit. Good afternoon, Piglet.\" somewhere in your response",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Look at me jumping,\" squeaked Roo, and fell into another mouse-hole.\n\n\"Hallo, Roo, my little fellow!\"\n\n\"We were just going home,\" said Kanga. \"Good afternoon, Rabbit. Good afternoon, Piglet.\"\n\nRabbit and Piglet, who had now come up from the other side of the hill, said, \"Good afternoon,\" and \"Hallo, Roo,\" and Roo asked them to look at him jumping, so they stayed and looked.\n\nAnd Kanga looked too….\n\n\"Oh, Kanga,\" said Pooh, after Rabbit had winked at him twice, \"I don't know if you are interested in Poetry at all?\"\n\n\"Hardly at all,\" said Kanga.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Roo, dear, just one more jump and then we must go home.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was a short silence while Roo fell down another mouse-hole.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc) Word usage target: 'you'll' must be used 2 times (ooc)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Go on,\" said Rabbit in a loud whisper behind his paw.\n\n\"Talking of Poetry,\" said Pooh, \"I made up a little piece as I was coming along. It went like this. Er—now let me see—\"\n\n\"Fancy!\" said Kanga. \"Now Roo, dear—\"\n\n\"You'll like this piece of poetry,\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"You'll love it,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"You must listen very carefully,\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"So as not to miss any of it,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said Kanga, but she still looked at Baby Roo.\n\n\"How did it go, Pooh?\" said Rabbit.\n\nPooh gave a little cough and began.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "[ LINES WRITTEN BY A BEAR OF LITTLE BRAIN ]\n\nOn Monday, when the sun is hot\n\nI wonder to myself a lot:\n\n\"Now is it true, or is it not,\n\n\"That what is which and which is what?\"\n\nOn Tuesday, when it hails and snows,\n\nThe feeling on me grows and grows\n\nThat hardly anybody knows\n\nIf those are these or these are those.\n\nOn Wednesday, when the sky is blue,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And I have nothing else to do,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I sometimes wonder if it's true",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That who is what and what is who.\n\nOn Thursday, when it starts to freeze\n\nAnd hoar-frost twinkles on the trees,\n\nHow very readily one sees\n\nThat these are whose—but whose are these?\n\nOn Friday—\n\n\"Yes, it is, isn't it?\" said Kanga, not waiting to hear what happened on Friday. \"Just one more jump, Roo, dear, and then we really must be going.\"\n\nRabbit gave Pooh a hurrying-up sort of nudge.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Talking of Poetry,\" said Pooh quickly, \"have you ever noticed that tree right over there?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Where?\" said Kanga. \"Now, Roo—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Right over there,\" said Pooh, pointing behind Kanga's back.\n\n\"No,\" said Kanga. \"Now jump in, Roo, dear, and we'll go home.\"\n\n\"You ought to look at that tree right over there,\" said Rabbit. \"Shall I lift you in, Roo?\" And he picked up Roo in his paws.\n\n\"I can see a bird in it from here,\" said Pooh. \"Or is it a fish?\"\n\n\"You ought to see that bird from here,\" said Rabbit. \"Unless it's a fish.\"\n\n\"It isn't a fish, it's a bird,\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"So it is,\" said Rabbit.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is it a starling or a blackbird?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"That's the whole question,\" said Rabbit. \"Is it a blackbird or a starling?\"\n\nAnd then at last Kanga did turn her head to look. And the moment that her head was turned, Rabbit said in a loud voice \"In you go, Roo!\" and in jumped Piglet into Kanga's pocket, and off scampered Rabbit, with Roo in his paws, as fast as he could.\n\n\"Why, where's Rabbit?\" said Kanga, turning round again. \"Are you all right, Roo, dear?\"\n\nPiglet made a squeaky Roo-noise from the bottom of Kanga's pocket.\n\n\"Rabbit had to go away,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I think he thought of something he had to go and see about suddenly.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And Piglet?\"\n\n\"I think Piglet thought of something at the same time. Suddenly.\"\n\n\"Well, we must be getting home,\" said Kanga. \"Goodbye, Pooh.\" And in three large jumps she was gone.\n\nPooh looked after her as she went.\n\n\"I wish I could jump like that,\" he thought. \"Some can and some can't. That's how it is.\"\n\nBut there were moments when Piglet wished that Kanga couldn't. Often, when he had had a long walk home through the Forest, he had wished that he were a bird; but now he thought jerkily to himself at the bottom of Kanga's pocket,\n\nAnd as he went up in the air, he said, \"Ooooooo!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "and as he came down he said, \"Ow!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And he was saying, \"Ooooooo-ow, Ooooooo-ow, Ooooooo-ow\" all the way to Kanga's house.\n\nOf course as soon as Kanga unbuttoned her pocket, she saw what had happened. Just for a moment, she thought she was frightened, and then she knew she wasn't; for she felt quite sure that Christopher Robin would never let any harm happen to Roo. So she said to herself, \"If they are having a joke with me, I will have a joke with them.\"\n\n\"Now then, Roo, dear,\" she said, as she took Piglet out of her pocket. \"Bed-time.\"\n\n\"Aha!\" said Piglet, as well as he could after his Terrifying Journey. But it wasn't a very good \"Aha!\" and Kanga didn't seem to understand what it meant.\n\n\"Bath first,\" said Kanga in a cheerful voice.\n\n\"Aha!\" said Piglet again, looking round anxiously for the others.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "But the others weren't there.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "[[OOC: Only your next part should have a balanced amount of quoted speech]]",
"loss": false
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rabbit was playing with Baby Roo in his own house, and feeling more fond of him every minute, and Pooh, who had decided to be a Kanga, was still at the sandy place on the top of the Forest, practising jumps.\n\n\"I am not at all sure,\" said Kanga in a thoughtful voice, \"that it wouldn't be a good idea to have a cold bath this evening. Would you like that, Roo, dear?\"\n\nPiglet, who had never been really fond of baths, shuddered a long indignant shudder, and said in as brave a voice as he could:\n\n\"Kanga, I see the time has come to spleak painly.\"\n\n\"Funny little Roo,\" said Kanga, as she got the bath-water ready.\n\n\"I am not Roo,\" said Piglet loudly. \"I am Piglet!\"\n\n\"Yes, dear, yes,\" said Kanga soothingly. \"And imitating Piglet's voice too! So clever of him,\" she went on, as she took a large bar of yellow soap out of the cupboard. \"What will he be doing next?\"\n\n\"Can't you see?\" shouted Piglet.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Haven't you got eyes? Look at me!\"",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am looking, Roo, dear,\" said Kanga rather severely. \"And you know what I told you yesterday about making faces. If you go on making faces like Piglet's, you will grow up to look like Piglet—and then think how sorry you will be. Now then, into the bath, and don't let me have to speak to you about it again.\"\n\nBefore he knew where he was, Piglet was in the bath, and Kanga was scrubbing him firmly with a large lathery flannel.\n\n\"Ow!\" cried Piglet. \"Let me out! I'm Piglet!\"\n\n\"Don't open the mouth, dear, or the soap goes in,\" said Kanga. \"There! What did I tell you?\"\n\n\"You—you—you did it on purpose,\" spluttered Piglet, as soon as he could speak again…and then accidentally had another mouthful of lathery flannel.\n\n\"That's right, dear, don't say anything,\" said Kanga, and in another minute Piglet was out of the bath, and being rubbed dry with a towel.\n\n\"Now,\" said Kanga, \"there's your medicine, and then bed.\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"W-w-what medicine?\" said Piglet.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"To make you grow big and strong, dear. You don't want to grow up small and weak like Piglet, do you? Well, then!\"\n\nAt that moment there was a knock at the door.\n\n\"Come in,\" said Kanga, and in came Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Christopher Robin, Christopher Robin!\" cried Piglet. \"Tell Kanga who I am! She keeps saying I'm Roo. I'm not Roo, am I?\"\n\nChristopher Robin looked at him very carefully, and shook his head.\n\n\"You can't be Roo,\" he said, \"because I've just seen Roo playing in Rabbit's house.\"\n\n\"Well!\" said Kanga. \"Fancy that! Fancy my making a mistake like that.\"\n\n\"There you are!\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"I told you so. I'm Piglet.\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christopher Robin shook his head again.\n\n\"Oh, you're not Piglet,\" he said. \"I know Piglet well, and he's quite a different colour.\"\n\nPiglet began to say that this was because he had just had a bath, and then he thought that perhaps he wouldn't say that, and as he opened his mouth to say something else, Kanga slipped the medicine spoon in, and then patted him on the back and told him that it was really quite a nice taste when you got used to it.\n\n\"I knew it wasn't Piglet,\" said Kanga. \"I wonder who it can be.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it's some relation of Pooh's,\" said Christopher Robin. \"What about a nephew or an uncle or something?\"\n\nKanga agreed that this was probably what it was, and said that they would have to call it by some name.\n\n\"I shall call it Pootel,\" said Christopher Robin.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Henry Pootel for short.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 7 sentences.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And just when it was decided, Henry Pootel wriggled out of Kanga's arms and jumped to the ground. To his great joy Christopher Robin had left the door open. Never had Henry Pootel Piglet run so fast as he ran then, and he didn't stop running until he had got quite close to his house. But when he was a hundred yards away he stopped running, and rolled the rest of the way home, so as to get his own nice comfortable colour again….\n\nSo Kanga and Roo stayed in the Forest. And every Tuesday Roo spent the day with his great friend Rabbit, and every Tuesday Kanga spent the day with her great friend Pooh, teaching him to jump, and every Tuesday Piglet spent the day with his great friend Christopher Robin. So they were all happy again.",
"loss": null
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] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Writing partner mode: Will match your character/world context. Adding 74 sentences. Genres: children's, fantasy. Themes: Winnie-the-Pooh.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One fine day Pooh had stumped up to the top of the Forest to see if his friend Christopher Robin was interested in Bears at all. At breakfast that morning (a simple meal of marmalade spread lightly over a honey-comb or two) he had suddenly thought of a new song. It began like this:\n\n\"Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear!\"\n\nWhen he had got as far as this, he stretched his head, and thought to himself \"That's a very good start for a song, but what about the second line?\" He tried singing \"Ho,\" two or three times, but it didn't seem to help. \"Perhaps it would be better,\" he thought, \"if I sang Hi for the life of a Bear.\" So he sang it…but it wasn't. \"Very well, then,\" he said, \"I shall sing that first line twice, and perhaps if I sing it very quickly, I shall find myself singing the third and fourth lines before I have time to think of them, and that will be a Good Song. Now then:\n\nSing Ho! for the life of a Bear!\n\nSing Ho! for the life of a Bear!\n\nI don't much mind if it rains or snows,\n\n'Cos I've got a lot of honey on my nice new nose,\n\nI don't much care if it snows or thaws,\n\n'Cos I've got a lot of honey on my nice clean paws!\n\nSing Ho! for a Bear!\n\nSing Ho! for a Pooh!\n\nAnd I'll have a little something in an hour or two!\n\nHe was so pleased with this song that he sang it all the way to the top of the Forest, \"and if I go on singing it much longer,\" he thought, \"it will be time for the little something, and then the last line won't be true.\" So he turned it into a hum instead.\n\nChristopher Robin was sitting outside his door, putting on his Big Boots. As soon as he saw the Big Boots, Pooh knew that an Adventure was going to happen, and he brushed the honey off his nose with the back of his paw, and spruced himself up as well as he could, so as to look Ready for Anything.\n\n\"Good-morning, Christopher Robin,\" he called out.\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh Bear. I can't get this boot on.\"\n\n\"That's bad,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Do you think you could very kindly lean against me, 'cos I keep pulling so hard that I fall over backwards.\"\n\nPooh sat down, dug his feet into the ground, and pushed hard against Christopher Robin's back, and Christopher Robin pushed hard against his, and pulled and pulled at his boot until he had got it on.\n\n\"And that's that,\" said Pooh. \"What do we do next?\"\n\n\"We are all going on an Expedition,\" said Christopher Robin, as he got up and brushed himself. \"Thank you, Pooh.\"\n\n\"Going on an Expotition?\" said Pooh eagerly. \"I don't think I've ever been on one of those. Where are we going to on this Expotition?\"\n\n\"Expedition, silly old Bear. It's got an 'x' in it.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh. \"I know.\" But he didn't really.\n\n\"We're going to discover the North Pole.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh again. \"What is the North Pole?\" he asked.\n\n\"It's just a thing you discover,\" said Christopher Robin carelessly, not being quite sure himself.\n\n\"Oh! I see,\" said Pooh. \"Are bears any good at discovering it?\"\n\n\"Of course they are. And Rabbit and Kanga and all of you. It's an Expedition. That's what an Expedition means. A long line of everybody. You'd better tell the others to get ready, while I see if my gun's all right. And we must all bring Provisions.\"\n\n\"Bring what?\"\n\n\"Things to eat.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh happily. \"I thought you said Provisions. I'll go and tell them.\" And he stumped off.\n\nThe first person he met was Rabbit.\n\n\"Hallo, Rabbit,\" he said, \"is that you?\"\n\n\"Let's pretend it isn't,\" said Rabbit, \"and see what happens.\"\n\n\"I've got a message for you.\"\n\n\"I'll give it to him.\"\n\n\"We're all going on an Expotition with Christopher Robin!\"\n\n\"What is it when we're on it?\"\n\n\"A sort of boat, I think,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Oh! that sort.\"\n\n\"Yes. And we're going to discover a Pole or something. Or was it a Mole? Anyhow we're going to discover it.\"\n\n\"We are, are we?\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"Yes. And we've got to bring Po—things to eat with us. In case we want to eat them. Now I'm going down to Piglet's. Tell Kanga, will you?\"\n\nHe left Rabbit and hurried down to Piglet's house. The Piglet was sitting on the ground at the door of his house blowing happily at a dandelion, and wondering whether it would be this year, next year, sometime or never. He had just discovered that it would be never, and was trying to remember what \"it\" was, and hoping it wasn't anything nice, when Pooh came up.\n\n\"Oh! Piglet,\" said Pooh excitedly, \"we're going on an Expotition, all of us, with things to eat. To discover something.\"\n\n\"To discover what?\" said Piglet anxiously.\n\n\"Oh! just something.\"\n\n\"Nothing fierce?\"\n\n\"Christopher Robin didn't say anything about fierce. He just said it had an 'x'.\"\n\n\"It isn't their necks I mind,\" said Piglet earnestly. \"It's their teeth. But if Christopher Robin is coming I don't mind anything.\"\n\nIn a little while they were all ready at the top of the Forest, and the Expotition started. First came Christopher Robin and Rabbit, then Piglet and Pooh; then Kanga, with Roo in her pocket, and Owl; then Eeyore; and, at the end, in a long line, all Rabbit's friends-and-relations.\n\n\"I didn't ask them,\" explained Rabbit carelessly. \"They just came. They always do. They can march at the end, after Eeyore.\"\n\n\"What I say,\" said Eeyore, \"is that it's unsettling. I didn't want to come on this Expo—what Pooh said. I only came to oblige. But here I am; and if I am the end of the Expo—what we're talking about—then let me be the end. But if, every time I want to sit down for a little rest, I have to brush away half a dozen of Rabbit's smaller friends-and-relations first, then this isn't an Expo—whatever it is—at all, it's simply a Confused Noise. That's what I say.\"\n\n\"I see what Eeyore means,\" said Owl. \"If you ask me—\"\n\n\"I'm not asking anybody,\" said Eeyore. \"I'm just telling everybody. We can look for the North Pole, or we can play 'Here we go gathering Nuts and May' with the end part of an ant's nest. It's all the same to me.\"",
"loss": true
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "There was a shout from the top of the line.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc: IMPORTANT: 'rabbit' should appear 7 times in total)",
"loss": false
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come on!\" called Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Come on!\" called Pooh and Piglet.\n\n\"Come on!\" called Owl.\n\n\"We're starting,\" said Rabbit. \"I must go.\" And he hurried off to the front of the Expotition with Christopher Robin.\n\n\"All right,\" said Eeyore. \"We're going. Only Don't Blame Me.\"\n\nSo off they all went to discover the Pole. And as they walked, they chattered to each other of this and that, all except Pooh, who was making up a song.\n\n\"This is the first verse,\" he said to Piglet, when he was ready with it.\n\n\"First verse of what?\"\n\n\"My song.\"\n\n\"What song?\"\n\n\"This one.\"\n\n\"Which one?\"\n\n\"Well, if you listen, Piglet, you'll hear it.\"\n\n\"How do you know I'm not listening?\"\n\nPooh couldn't answer that one, so he began to sing.\n\nThey all went off to discover the Pole,\n\nOwl and Piglet and Rabbit and all;\n\nIt's a Thing you Discover, as I've been tole\n\nBy Owl and Piglet and Rabbit and all.\n\nEeyore, Christopher Robin and Pooh\n\nAnd Rabbit's relations all went too—\n\nAnd where the Pole was none of them knew….\n\nSing Hey! for Owl and Rabbit and all!\n\n\"Hush!\" said Christopher Robin turning round to Pooh, \"we're just coming to a Dangerous Place.\"\n\n\"Hush!\" said Pooh turning round quickly to Piglet.\n\n\"Hush!\" said Piglet to Kanga.\n\n\"Hush!\" said Kanga to Owl, while Roo said \"Hush!\" several times to himself very quietly.\n\n\"Hush!\" said Owl to Eeyore.\n\n\"Hush!\" said Eeyore in a terrible voice to all Rabbit's friends-and-relations, and \"Hush!\" they said hastily to each other all down the line, until it got to the last one of all. And the last and smallest friend-and-relation was so upset to find that the whole Expotition was saying \"Hush!\" to him, that he buried himself head downwards in a crack in the ground, and stayed there for two days until the danger was over, and then went home in a great hurry, and lived quietly with his Aunt ever-afterwards. His name was Alexander Beetle.\n\nThey had come to a stream which twisted and tumbled between high rocky banks, and Christopher Robin saw at once how dangerous it was.\n\n\"It's just the place,\" he explained, \"for an Ambush.\"\n\n\"What sort of bush?\" whispered Pooh to Piglet. \"A gorse-bush?\"\n\n\"My dear Pooh,\" said Owl in his superior way, \"don't you know what an Ambush is?\"\n\n\"Owl,\" said Piglet, looking round at him severely, \"Pooh's whisper was a perfectly private whisper, and there was no need—\"\n\n\"An Ambush,\" said Owl, \"is a sort of Surprise.\"\n\n\"So is a gorse-bush sometimes,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"An Ambush, as I was about to explain to Pooh,\" said Piglet, \"is a sort of Surprise.\"\n\n\"If people jump out at you suddenly, that's an Ambush,\" said Owl.\n\n\"It's an Ambush, Pooh, when people jump at you suddenly,\" explained Piglet.\n\nPooh, who now knew what an Ambush was, said that a gorse-bush had sprung at him suddenly one day when he fell off a tree, and he had taken six days to get all the prickles out of himself.\n\n\"We are not talking about gorse-bushes,\" said Owl a little crossly.\n\n\"I am,\" said Pooh.\n\nThey were climbing very cautiously up the stream now, going from rock to rock, and after they had gone a little way they came to a place where the banks widened out at each side, so that on each side of the water there was a level strip of grass on which they could sit down and rest. As soon as he saw this, Christopher Robin called \"Halt!\" and they all sat down and rested.\n\n\"I think,\" said Christopher Robin, \"that we ought to eat all our Provisions now, so that we shan't have so much to carry.\"\n\n\"Eat all our what?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"All that we've brought,\" said Piglet, getting to work.\n\n\"That's a good idea,\" said Pooh, and he got to work too.\n\n\"Have you all got something?\" asked Christopher Robin with his mouth full.\n\n\"All except me,\" said Eeyore. \"As Usual.\" He looked round at them in his melancholy way. \"I suppose none of you are sitting on a thistle by any chance?\"\n\n\"I believe I am,\" said Pooh. \"Ow!\" He got up, and looked behind him. \"Yes, I was. I thought so.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Pooh. If you've quite finished with it.\" He moved across to Pooh's place, and began to eat.\n\n\"It don't do them any Good, you know, sitting on them,\" he went on, as he looked up munching. \"Takes all the Life out of them. Remember that another time, all of you. A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, makes all the difference.\"\n\nAs soon as he had finished his lunch Christopher Robin whispered to Rabbit, and Rabbit said, \"Yes, yes, of course,\" and they walked a little way up the stream together.\n\n\"I didn't want the others to hear,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Quite so,\" said Rabbit, looking important.\n\n\"It's—I wondered—It's only—Rabbit, I suppose you don't know, What does the North Pole look like.\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well,\" said Rabbit, stroking his whiskers. \"Now you're asking me.\"\n\n\"I did know once, only I've sort of forgotten,\" said Christopher Robin carelessly.\n\n\"It's a funny thing,\" said Rabbit, \"but I've sort of forgotten too, although I did know once.\"\n\n\"I suppose it's just a pole stuck in the ground?\"\n\n\"Sure to be a pole,\" said Rabbit, \"because of calling a pole, and if it's a pole, well, I should think it would be sticking in the ground, shouldn't you, because there'd be nowhere else to stick it.\"\n\n\"Yes, that's what I thought.\"\n\n\"The only thing,\" said Rabbit, \"is, where is it sticking?\"\n\n\"That's what we're looking for,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\nThey went back to the others. Piglet was lying on his back, sleeping peacefully. Roo was washing his face and paws in the stream, while Kanga explained to everybody proudly that this was the first time he had ever washed his face himself, and Owl was telling Kanga an Interesting Anecdote full of long words like Encyclopaedia and Rhododendron to which Kanga wasn't listening.\n\n\"I don't hold with all this washing,\" grumbled Eeyore. \"This modern Behind-the-ears nonsense. What do you think, Pooh?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"I think—\"\n\nBut we shall never know what Pooh thought, for there came a sudden squeak from Roo, a splash, and a loud cry of alarm from Kanga.\n\n\"So much for washing,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Roo's fallen in!\" cried Rabbit, and he and Christopher Robin came rushing down to the rescue.\n\n\"Look at me swimming!\" squeaked Roo from the middle of his pool, and was hurried down a waterfall into the next pool.\n\n\"Are you all right, Roo dear?\" called Kanga anxiously.\n\n\"Yes!\" said Roo. \"Look at me sw—\" and down he went over the next waterfall into another pool.\n\nEverybody was doing something to help. Piglet, wide awake suddenly, was jumping up and down and making \"Oo, I say\" noises; Owl was explaining that in a case of Sudden and Temporary Immersion the Important Thing was to keep the Head Above Water; Kanga was jumping along the bank, saying \"Are you sure you're all right, Roo dear?\" to which Roo, from whatever pool he was in at the moment, was answering \"Look at me swimming!\" Eeyore had turned round and hung his tail over the first pool into which Roo fell, and with his back to the accident was grumbling quietly to himself, and saying, \"All this washing; but catch on to my tail, little Roo, and you'll be all right\" and, Christopher Robin and Rabbit came hurrying past Eeyore, and were calling out to the others in front of them.\n\n\"All right, Roo, I'm coming,\" called Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Get something across the stream lower down, some of you fellows,\" called Rabbit.\n\nBut Pooh was getting something. Two pools below Roo he was standing with a long pole in his paws, and Kanga came up and took one end of it, and between them they held it across the lower part of the pool; and Roo, still bubbling proudly, \"Look at me swimming,\" drifted up against it, and climbed out.\n\n\"Did you see me swimming?\" squeaked Roo excitedly, while Kanga scolded him and rubbed him down. \"Pooh, did you see me swimming? That's called swimming, what I was doing. Rabbit, did you see what I was doing? Swimming. Hallo, Piglet! I say, Piglet! What do you think I was doing! Swimming! Christopher Robin, did you see me—\"\n\nBut Christopher Robin wasn't listening. He was looking at Pooh.\n\n\"Pooh,\" he said, \"where did you find that pole?\"\n\nPooh looked at the pole in his hands.\n\n\"I just found it,\" he said. \"I thought it ought to be useful. I just picked it up.\"\n\n\"Pooh,\" said Christopher Robin solemnly, \"the Expedition is over. You have found the North Pole!\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh.\n\nEeyore was sitting with his tail in the water when they all got back to him.\n\n\"Tell Roo to be quick, somebody,\" he said. \"My tail's getting cold. I don't want to mention it, but I just mention it. I don't want to complain but there it is. My tail's cold.\"\n\n\"Here I am!\" squeaked Roo.\n\n\"Oh, there you are.\"\n\n\"Did you see me swimming?\"\n\nEeyore took his tail out of the water, and swished it from side to side.\n\n\"As I expected,\" he said. \"Lost all feeling. Numbed it. That's what it's done. Numbed it. Well, as long as nobody minds, I suppose it's all right.\"\n\n\"Poor old Eeyore. I'll dry it for you,\" said Christopher Robin, and he took out his handkerchief and rubbed it up.\n\n\"Thank you, Christopher Robin. You're the only one who seems to understand about tails. They don't think—that's what's the matter with some of these others. They've no imagination. A tail isn't a tail to them, it's just a Little Bit Extra at the back.\"\n\n\"Never mind, Eeyore,\" said Christopher Robin, rubbing his hardest. \"Is that better?\"\n\n\"It's feeling more like a tail perhaps. It Belongs again, if you know what I mean.\"\n\n\"Hullo, Eeyore,\" said Pooh, coming up to them with his pole.\n\n\"Hullo, Pooh. Thank you for asking, but I shall be able to use it again in a day or two.\"\n\n\"Use what?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"What we are talking about.\"\n\n\"I wasn't talking about anything,\" said Pooh, looking puzzled.\n\n\"My mistake again. I thought you were saying how sorry you were about my tail, being all numb, and could you do anything to help?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh. \"That wasn't me,\" he said. He thought for a little and then suggested helpfully, \"Perhaps it was somebody else.\"\n\n\"Well, thank him for me when you see him.\"\n\nPooh looked anxiously at Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Pooh's found the North Pole,\" said Christopher Robin. \"Isn't that lovely?\"\n\nPooh looked modestly down.\n\n\"Is that it?\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Is that what we were looking for?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Eeyore. \"Well, anyhow—it didn't rain,\" he said.\n\nThey stuck the pole in the ground, and Christopher Robin tied a message on to it.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "NORTH POLE",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 5 sentences.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DISCOVERED BY POOH\n\nPOOH FOUND IT.\n\nThen they all went home again. And I think, but I am not quite sure, that Roo had a hot bath and went straight to bed. But Pooh went back to his own house, and feeling very proud of what he had done, had a little something to revive himself.",
"loss": true
}
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Write fifty-eight sentences sentences maintaining character/world context. Blend in these genres: children's, fantasy. Incorporate these themes: Winnie-the-Pooh.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never in all his life, and he was goodness knows how old—three, was it, or four?—never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days.\n\n\"If only,\" he thought, as he looked out of the window, \"I had been in Pooh's house, or Christopher Robin's house, or Rabbit's house when it began to rain, then I should have had Company all this time, instead of being here all alone, with nothing to do except wonder when it will stop.\" And he imagined himself with Pooh, saying, \"Did you ever see such rain, Pooh?\" and Pooh saying, \"Isn't it awful, Piglet?\" and Piglet saying, \"I wonder how it is over Christopher Robin's way\" and Pooh saying, \"I should think poor old Rabbit is about flooded out by this time.\" It would have been jolly to talk like this, and really, it wasn't much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn't share them with somebody.\n\nFor it was rather exciting. The little dry ditches in which Piglet had nosed about so often had become streams, the little streams across which he had splashed were rivers, and the river, between whose steep banks they had played so happily, had sprawled out of its own bed and was taking up so much room everywhere, that Piglet was beginning to wonder whether it would be coming into his bed soon.\n\n\"It's a little Anxious,\" he said to himself, \"to be a Very Small Animal Entirely Surrounded by Water. Christopher Robin and Pooh could escape by Climbing Trees, and Kanga could escape by Jumping, and Rabbit could escape by Burrowing, and Owl could escape by Flying, and Eeyore could escape by—by Making a Loud Noise Until Rescued, and here am I, surrounded by water and I can't do anything.\"\n\nIt went on raining, and every day the water got a little higher, until now it was nearly up to Piglet's window…and still he hadn't done anything.\n\n\"There's Pooh,\" he thought to himself. \"Pooh hasn't much Brain, but he never comes to any harm. He does silly things and they turn out right. There's Owl. Owl hasn't exactly got Brain, but he knows Things. He would know the Right Thing to Do when Surrounded by Water. There's Rabbit. He hasn't Learnt in Books, but he can always Think of a Clever Plan. There's Kanga. She isn't Clever, Kanga isn't, but she would be so anxious about Roo that she would do a Good Thing to Do without thinking about it. And then there's Eeyore. And Eeyore is so miserable anyhow that he wouldn't mind about this. But I wonder what Christopher Robin would do?\"\n\nThen suddenly he remembered a story which Christopher Robin had told him about a man on a desert island who had written something in a bottle and thrown it in the sea; and Piglet thought that if he wrote something in a bottle and threw it in the water, perhaps somebody would come and rescue him!\n\nHe left the window and began to search his house, all of it that wasn't under water, and at last he found a pencil and a small piece of dry paper, and a bottle with a cork to it. And he wrote on one side of the paper:\n\nHELP!\n\nPIGLET (ME)\n\n...and on the other side:\n\nIT'S ME PIGLET, HELP HELP.\n\nThen he put the paper in the bottle, and he corked the bottle up as tightly as he could, and he leant out of his window as far as he could lean without falling in, and he threw the bottle as far as he could throw—splash!—and in a little while it bobbed up again on the water; and he watched it floating slowly away in the distance, until his eyes ached with looking, and sometimes he thought it was the bottle, and sometimes he thought it was just a ripple on the water which he was following, and then suddenly he knew that he would never see it again and that he had done all that he could do to save himself.\n\n\"So now,\" he thought, \"somebody else will have to do something, and I hope they will do it soon, because if they don't I shall have to swim, which I can't, so I hope they do it soon.\" And then he gave a very long sigh and said, \"I wish Pooh were here. It's so much more friendly with two.\"\n\nWhen the rain began Pooh was asleep. It rained, and it rained, and it rained, and he slept and he slept and he slept. He had had a tiring day. You remember how he discovered the North Pole; well, he was so proud of this that he asked Christopher Robin if there were any other Poles such as a Bear of Little Brain might discover.\n\n\"There's a South Pole,\" said Christopher Robin, \"and I expect there's an East Pole and a West Pole, though people don't like talking about them.\"\n\nPooh was very excited when he heard this, and suggested that they should have an Expotition to discover the East Pole, but Christopher Robin had thought of something else to do with Kanga; so Pooh went out to discover the East Pole by himself. Whether he discovered it or not, I forget; but he was so tired when he got home that, in the very middle of his supper, after he had been eating for little more than half-an-hour, he fell fast asleep in his chair, and slept and slept and slept.\n\nThen suddenly he was dreaming. He was at the East Pole, and it was a very cold pole with the coldest sort of snow and ice all over it. He had found a beehive to sleep in, but there wasn't room for his legs, so he had left them outside. And Wild Woozles, such as inhabit the East Pole, came and nibbled all the fur off his legs to make nests for their Young. And the more they nibbled, the colder his legs got, until suddenly he woke up with an Ow!—and there he was, sitting in his chair with his feet in the water, and water all round him!\n\nHe splashed to his door and looked out….\n\n\"This is Serious,\" said Pooh. \"I must have an Escape.\"\n\nSo he took his largest pot of honey and escaped with it to a broad branch of his tree, well above the water, and then he climbed down again and escaped with another pot…and when the whole Escape was finished, there was Pooh sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there, beside him, were ten pots of honey….\n\nTwo days later, there was Pooh, sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there, beside him, were four pots of honey….\n\nThree days later, there was Pooh, sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there, beside him, was one pot of honey.\n\nFour days later, there was Pooh…\n\nAnd it was on the morning of the fourth day that Piglet's bottle came floating past him, and with one loud cry of \"Honey!\" Pooh plunged into the water, seized the bottle, and struggled back to his tree again.\n\n\"Bother!\" said Pooh, as he opened it. \"All that wet for nothing. What's that bit of paper doing?\"\n\nHe took it out and looked at it.\n\n\"It's a Missage,\" he said to himself, \"that's what it is. And that letter is a 'P,' and so is that, and so is that, and 'P' means 'Pooh,' so it's a very important Missage to me, and I can't read it. I must find Christopher Robin or Owl or Piglet, one of those Clever Readers who can read things, and they will tell me what this missage means. Only I can't swim. Bother!\"\n\nThen he had an idea, and I think that for a Bear of Very Little Brain, it was a good idea. He said to himself:\n\n\"If a bottle can float, then a jar can float, and if a jar floats, I can sit on the top of it, if it's a very big jar.\"\n\nSo he took his biggest jar, and corked it up. \"All boats have to have a name,\" he said, \"so I shall call mine The Floating Bear.\" And with these words he dropped his boat into the water and jumped in after it.\n\nFor a little while Pooh and The Floating Bear were uncertain as to which of them was meant to be on the top, but after trying one or two different positions, they settled down with The Floating Bear underneath and Pooh triumphantly astride it, paddling vigorously with his feet.\n\nChristopher Robin lived at the very top of the Forest. It rained, and it rained, and it rained, but the water couldn't come up to his house.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was rather jolly to look down into the valleys and see the water all round him, but it rained so hard that he stayed indoors most of the time, and thought about things. Every morning he went out with his umbrella and put a stick in the place where the water came up to, and every next morning he went out and couldn't see his stick any more, so he put another stick in the place where the water came up to, and then he walked home again, and each morning he had a shorter way to walk than he had had the morning before. On the morning of the fifth day he saw the water all round him, and knew that for the first time in his life he was on a real island. Which was very exciting.\n\nIt was on this morning that Owl came flying over the water to say \"How do you do,\" to his friend Christopher Robin.\n\n\"I say, Owl,\" said Christopher Robin, \"isn't this fun? I'm on an island!\"\n\n\"The atmospheric conditions have been very unfavourable lately,\" said Owl.\n\n\"The what?\"\n\n\"It has been raining,\" explained Owl.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Christopher Robin. \"It has.\"\n\n\"The flood-level has reached an unprecedented height.\"\n\n\"The who?\"\n\n\"There's a lot of water about,\" explained Owl.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Christopher Robin, \"there is.\"\n\n\"However, the prospects are rapidly becoming more favourable. At any moment—\"\n\n\"Have you seen Pooh?\"\n\n\"No. At any moment—\"\n\n\"I hope he's all right,\" said Christopher Robin. \"I've been wondering about him. I expect Piglet's with him. Do you think they're all right, Owl?\"\n\n\"I expect so. You see, at any moment—\"\n\n\"Do go and see, Owl. Because Pooh hasn't got very much brain, and he might do something silly, and I do love him so, Owl. Do you see, Owl?\"\n\n\"That's all right,\" said Owl. \"I'll go. Back directly.\" And he flew off.\n\nIn a little while he was back again.\n\n\"Pooh isn't there,\" he said.\n\n\"Not there?\"\n\n\"Has been there. He's been sitting on a branch of his tree outside his house with nine pots of honey. But he isn't there now.\"\n\n\"Oh, Pooh!\" cried Christopher Robin. \"Where are you?\"\n\n\"Here I am,\" said a growly voice behind him.\n\n\"Pooh!\"\n\nThey rushed into each other's arms.\n\n\"How did you get here, Pooh?\" asked Christopher Robin, when he was ready to talk again.\n\n\"On my boat,\" said Pooh proudly. \"I had a Very Important Missage sent me in a bottle, and owing to having got some water in my eyes, I couldn't read it, so I brought it to you. On my boat.\"\n\nWith these proud words he gave Christopher Robin the missage.\n\n\"But it's from Piglet!\" cried Christopher Robin when he had read it.\n\n\"Isn't there anything about Pooh in it?\" asked Bear, looking over his shoulder.\n\nChristopher Robin read the message aloud.\n\n\"Oh, are those 'P's' Piglets? I thought they were Poohs.\"\n\n\"We must rescue him at once! I thought he was with you, Pooh. Owl, could you rescue him on your back?\"\n\n\"I don't think so,\" said Owl, after grave thought. \"It is doubtful if the necessary dorsal muscles—\"\n\n\"Then would you fly to him at once and say that Rescue is Coming? And Pooh and I will think of a Rescue and come as quick as ever we can. Oh, don't talk, Owl, go on quick!\" And, still thinking of something to say, Owl flew off.\n\n\"Now then, Pooh,\" said Christopher Robin, \"where's your boat?\"\n\n\"I ought to say,\" explained Pooh as they walked down to the shore of the island, \"that it isn't just an ordinary sort of boat. Sometimes it's a Boat, and sometimes it's more of an Accident. It all depends.\"\n\n\"Depends on what?\"\n\n\"On whether I'm on the top of it or underneath it.\"\n\n\"Oh! Well, where is it?\"\n\n\"There!\" said Pooh, pointing proudly to The Floating Bear.\n\nIt wasn't what Christopher Robin expected, and the more he looked at it, the more he thought what a Brave and Clever Bear Pooh was, and the more Christopher Robin thought this, the more Pooh looked modestly down his nose and tried to pretend he wasn't.\n\n\"But it's too small for two of us,\" said Christopher Robin sadly.\n\n\"Three of us with Piglet.\"\n\n\"That makes it smaller still. Oh, Pooh Bear, what shall we do?\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "And then this Bear, Pooh Bear, Winniethe-Pooh, F.O.P.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 19 sentences.",
"loss": null
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "(Friend of Piglet's), R.C. (Rabbit's Companion), P.D. (Pole Discoverer), E.C. and T.F. (Eeyore's Comforter and Tail-finder)—in fact, Pooh himself—said something so clever that Christopher Robin could only look at him with mouth open and eyes staring, wondering if this was really the Bear of Very Little Brain whom he had known and loved so long.\n\n\"We might go in your umbrella,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"?\"\n\n\"We might go in your umbrella,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"??\"\n\n\"We might go in your umbrella,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"! ! ! ! ! !\"\n\nFor suddenly Christopher Robin saw that they might. He opened his umbrella and put it point downwards in the water. It floated but wobbled. Pooh got in. He was just beginning to say that it was all right now, when he found that it wasn't, so after a short drink which he didn't really want he waded back to Christopher Robin. Then they both got in together, and it wobbled no longer.\n\n\"I shall call this boat The Brain of Pooh,\" said Christopher Robin, and The Brain of Pooh set sail forthwith in a south-westerly direction, revolving gracefully.\n\nYou can imagine Piglet's joy when at last the ship came in sight of him. In after-years he liked to think that he had been in Very Great Danger during the Terrible Flood, but the only danger he had really been in was in the last half-hour of his imprisonment, when Owl, who had just flown up, sat on a branch of his tree to comfort him, and told him a very long story about an aunt who had once laid a seagull's egg by mistake, and the story went on and on, rather like this sentence, until Piglet who was listening out of his window without much hope, went to sleep quietly and naturally, slipping slowly out of the window towards the water until he was only hanging on by his toes, at which moment luckily, a sudden loud squawk from Owl, which was really part of the story, being what his aunt said, woke the Piglet up and just gave him time to jerk himself back into safety and say, \"How interesting, and did she?\" when—well, you can imagine his joy when at last he saw the good ship, The Brain of Pooh (Captain, C. Robin; 1st Mate, P. Bear) coming over the sea to rescue him.\n\nAnd that is really the end of the story, and as I am very tired after that last sentence, I think I shall stop there.",
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Format: Continuation\nLength: fifty-one sentences\nStyle: A. A. Milne\nMaintain: existing lore\nThemes: Winnie-the-Pooh",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "One day when the sun had come back over the Forest, bringing with it the scent of May, and all the streams of the Forest were tinkling happily to find themselves their own pretty shape again, and the little pools lay dreaming of the life they had seen and the big things they had done, and in the warmth and quiet of the Forest the cuckoo was trying over his voice carefully and listening to see if he liked it, and wood-pigeons were complaining gently to themselves in their lazy comfortable way that it was the other fellow's fault, but it didn't matter very much; on such a day as this Christopher Robin whistled in a special way he had, and Owl came flying out of the Hundred Acre Wood to see what was wanted.\n\n\"Owl,\" said Christopher Robin, \"I am going to give a party.\"\n\n\"You are, are you?\" said Owl.\n\n\"And it's to be a special sort of party, because it's because of what Pooh did when he did what he did to save Piglet from the flood.\"\n\n\"Oh, that's what it's for, is it?\" said Owl.\n\n\"Yes, so will you tell Pooh as quickly as you can, and all the others, because it will be tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Oh, it will, will it?\" said Owl, still being as helpful as possible.\n\n\"So will you go and tell them, Owl?\"\n\nOwl tried to think of something very wise to say, but couldn't, so he flew off to tell the others. And the first person he told was Pooh.\n\n\"Pooh,\" he said, \"Christopher Robin is giving a party.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh. And then seeing that Owl expected him to say something else, he said, \"Will there be those little cake things with pink sugar icing?\"\n\nOwl felt that it was rather beneath him to talk about little cake things with pink sugar icing, so he told Pooh exactly what Christopher Robin had said, and flew off to Eeyore.\n\n\"A party for Me?\" thought Pooh to himself. \"How grand!\" And he began to wonder if all the other animals would know that it was a special Pooh Party, and if Christopher Robin had told them about The Floating Bear and The Brain of Pooh and all the wonderful ships he had invented and sailed on, and he began to think how awful it would be if everybody had forgotten about it, and nobody quite knew what the party was for; and the more he thought like this, the more the party got muddled in his mind, like a dream when nothing goes right. And the dream began to sing itself over in his head until it became a sort of song. It was an ANXIOUS POOH SONG.\n\n3 Cheers for Pooh!\n\n(For Who?)\n\nFor Pooh\n\n(Why what did he do?)\n\nI thought you knew;\n\nHe saved his friend from a wetting!\n\n3 Cheers for Bear!\n\n(For where?)\n\nFor Bear—\n\nHe couldn't swim,\n\nBut he rescued him!\n\n(He rescued who?)\n\nOh, listen, do!\n\nI am talking of Pooh—\n\n(Of who?)\n\nOf Pooh!\n\n(I'm sorry I keep forgetting.)\n\nWell, Pooh was a Bear of Enormous Brain\n\n(Just say it again!)\n\nOf enormous brain—\n\n(Of enormous what?)\n\nWell, he ate a lot,\n\nAnd I don't know if he could swim or not,\n\nBut he managed to float\n\nOn a sort of boat\n\n(On a sort of what?)\n\nWell, a sort of pot—\n\nSo now let's give him three hearty cheers\n\n(So now let's give him three hearty whiches?)\n\nAnd hope he'll be with us for years and years,\n\nAnd grow in health and wisdom and riches!",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "3 Cheers for Pooh!",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "(For who?)\n\nFor Pooh—\n\n3 Cheers for Bear!\n\n(For where?)\n\nFor Bear—\n\n3 Cheers for the wonderful Winniethe-Pooh!\n\n(Just tell me, Somebody—WHAT DID HE DO?)\n\nWhile this was going on inside him, Owl was talking to Eeyore.\n\n\"Eeyore,\" said Owl, \"Christopher Robin is giving a party.\"\n\n\"Very interesting,\" said Eeyore. \"I suppose they will be sending me down the odd bits which got trodden on. Kind and Thoughtful. Not at all, don't mention it.\"\n\n\"There is an Invitation for you.\"\n\n\"What's that like?\"\n\n\"An Invitation!\"\n\n\"Yes, I heard you. Who dropped it?\"\n\n\"This isn't anything to eat, it's asking you to the party. Tomorrow.\"\n\nEeyore shook his head slowly.\n\n\"You mean Piglet. The little fellow with the excited ears. That's Piglet. I'll tell him.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" said Owl, getting quite fussy. \"It's you!\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Of course I'm sure. Christopher Robin said 'All of them! Tell all of them.'\"\n\n\"All of them, except Eeyore?\"\n\n\"All of them,\" said Owl sulkily.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Eeyore. \"A mistake, no doubt, but still, I shall come. Only don't blame me if it rains.\"\n\nBut it didn't rain. Christopher Robin had made a long table out of some long pieces of wood, and they all sat around it. Christopher Robin sat at one end, and Pooh sat at the other, and between them on one side were Owl and Eeyore and Piglet, and between them on the other side were Rabbit, and Roo and Kanga. And all Rabbit's friends-and-relations spread themselves about on the grass, and waited hopefully in case anybody spoke to them, or dropped anything, or asked them the time.\n\nIt was the first party to which Roo had ever been, and he was very excited. As soon as ever they had sat down he began to talk.\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh!\" he squeaked.\n\n\"Hallo, Roo!\" said Pooh.\n\nRoo jumped up and down in his seat for a little while and then began again.\n\n\"Hallo, Piglet!\" he squeaked.\n\nPiglet waved a paw at him, being too busy to say anything.\n\n\"Hallo, Eeyore!\" said Roo.\n\nEeyore nodded gloomily at him. \"It will rain soon, you see if it doesn't,\" he said.\n\nRoo looked to see if it didn't, and it didn't, so he said \"Hallo, Owl! \"—and Owl said \"Hallo, my little fellow,\" in a kindly way, and went on telling Christopher Robin about an accident which had nearly happened to a friend of his whom Christopher Robin didn't know, and Kanga said to Roo, \"Drink up your milk first, dear, and talk afterwards.\" So Roo, who was drinking his milk, tried to say that he could do both at once…and had to be patted on the back and dried for quite a long time afterwards.\n\nWhen they had all nearly eaten enough, Christopher Robin banged on the table with his spoon, and everybody stopped talking and was very silent, except Roo who was just finishing a loud attack of hiccups and trying to look as if it was one of Rabbit's relations.\n\n\"This party,\" said Christopher Robin, \"is a party because of what someone did, and we all know who it was, and it's his party, because of what he did, and I've got a present for him and here it is.\" Then he felt about a little and whispered, \"Where is it?\"\n\nWhile he was looking, Eeyore coughed in an impressive way and began to speak.\n\n\"Friends,\" he said, \"including oddments, it is a great pleasure, or perhaps I had better say it has been a pleasure so far, to see you at my party. What I did was nothing. Any of you—except Rabbit and Owl and Kanga—would have done the same. Oh, and Pooh. My remarks do not, of course, apply to Piglet and Roo, because they are too small. Any of you would have done the same. But it just happened to be Me. It was not, I need hardly say, with an idea of getting what Christopher Robin is looking for now\"—and he put his front leg to his mouth and said in a loud whisper, \"Try under the table\"—\"that I did what I did—but because I feel that we should all do what we can to help. I feel that we should all—\"\n\n\"H—hup!\" said Roo accidentally.\n\n\"Roo, dear!\" said Kanga reproachfully.\n\n\"Was it me?\" asked Roo, a little surprised.\n\n\"What's Eeyore talking about?\" Piglet whispered to Pooh.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"I don't know,\" said Pooh rather dolefully.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 46 sentences.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I thought this was your party.\"\n\n\"I thought it was once. But I suppose it isn't.\"\n\n\"I'd sooner it was yours than Eeyore's,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"So would I,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"H—hup!\" said Roo again.\n\n\"AS—I—WAS—SAYING,\" said Eeyore loudly and sternly, \"as I was saying when I was interrupted by various Loud Sounds, I feel that—\"\n\n\"Here it is!\" cried Christopher Robin excitedly. \"Pass it down to silly old Pooh. It's for Pooh.\"\n\n\"For Pooh?\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Of course it is. The best bear in all the world.\"\n\n\"I might have known,\" said Eeyore. \"After all, one can't complain. I have my friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And was it last week or the week before that Rabbit bumped into me and said 'Bother!' The Social Round. Always something going on.\"\n\nNobody was listening, for they were all saying \"Open it, Pooh,\" \"What is it, Pooh?\" \"I know what it is,\" \"No, you don't\" and other helpful remarks of this sort. And of course Pooh was opening it as quickly as ever he could, but without cutting the string, because you never know when a bit of string might be Useful. At last it was undone.\n\nWhen Pooh saw what it was, he nearly fell down, he was so pleased. It was a Special Pencil Case. There were pencils in it marked \"B\" for Bear, and pencils marked \"HB\" for Helping Bear, and pencils marked \"BB\" for Brave Bear. There was a knife for sharpening the pencils, and india-rubber for rubbing out anything which you had spelt wrong, and a ruler for ruling lines for the words to walk on, and inches marked on the ruler in case you wanted to know how many inches anything was, and Blue Pencils and Red Pencils and Green Pencils for saying special things in blue and red and green. And all these lovely things were in little pockets of their own in a Special Case which shut with a click when you clicked it. And they were all for Pooh.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Oh, Pooh!\" said everybody else except Eeyore.\n\n\"Thank-you,\" growled Pooh.\n\nBut Eeyore was saying to himself, \"This writing business. Pencils and what-not. Over-rated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it.\"\n\nLater on, when they had all said \"Goodbye\" and \"Thank-you\" to Christopher Robin, Pooh and Piglet walked home thoughtfully together in the golden evening, and for a long time they were silent.\n\n\"When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,\" said Piglet at last, \"what's the first thing you say to yourself?\"\n\n\"What's for breakfast,\" said Pooh. \"What do you say, Piglet?\"\n\n\"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?\" said Piglet.\n\nPooh nodded thoughtfully.\n\n\"It's the same thing,\" he said.\n\n\"And what did happen?\" asked Christopher Robin.\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Next morning.\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Could you think and tell me and Pooh sometime?\"\n\n\"If you wanted it very much.\"\n\n\"Pooh does,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\nHe gave a deep sigh, picked his bear up by the leg and walked off to the door, trailing Winniethe-Pooh behind him. At the door he turned and said \"Coming to see me have my bath?\"\n\n\"I might,\" I said.\n\n\"Was Pooh's pencil case any better than mine?\"\n\n\"It was just about the same,\" I said.\n\nHe nodded and went out…and in a moment I heard Winniethe-Pooh—bump, bump, bump—going up the stairs behind him.",
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborative writing: I'll start, you add one sentence. Match character familiarity level. Genres: children's, fantasy. Elements: Winnie-the-Pooh.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One day when Pooh Bear had nothing else to do, he thought he would do something, so he went round to Piglet's house to see what Piglet was doing.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was still snowing as he stumped over the white forest track, and he expected to find Piglet warming his toes in front of his fire, but to his surprise he saw that the door was open, and the more he looked inside the more Piglet wasn't there.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He's out,\" said Pooh sadly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's what it is. He's not in. I shall have to go a fast Thinking Walk by myself. Bother!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But first he thought that he would knock very loudly just to make quite sure…and while he waited for Piglet not to answer, he jumped up and down to keep warm, and a hum came suddenly into his head, which seemed to him a Good Hum, such as is Hummed Hopefully to Others.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The more it snows",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "(Tiddely pom),",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The more it goes",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "(Tiddely pom),",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The more it goes",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "(Tiddely pom),",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "On snowing.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And nobody knows",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "(Tiddely pom),",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "How cold my toes",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "(Tiddely pom),",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "How cold my toes",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(Tiddely pom),",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Are growing.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So what I'll do,\" said Pooh, \"is I'll do this. I'll just go home first and see what the time is, and perhaps I'll put a muffler round my neck, and then I'll go and see Eeyore and sing it to him.\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He hurried back to his own house; and his mind was so busy on the way with the hum that he was getting ready for Eeyore that, when he suddenly saw Piglet sitting in his best armchair, he could only stand there rubbing his head and wondering whose house he was in.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Hallo, Piglet,\" he said.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I thought you were out.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" said Piglet, \"it's you who were out, Pooh.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So it was,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I knew one of us was.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He looked up at his clock, which had stopped at five minutes to eleven some weeks ago.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nearly eleven o'clock,\" said Pooh happily.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You're just in time for a little smackerel of something,\" and he put his head into the cupboard.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And then we'll go out, Piglet, and sing my song to Eeyore.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Which song, Pooh?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The one we're going to sing to Eeyore,\" explained Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The clock was still saying five minutes to eleven when Pooh and Piglet set out on their way half an hour later.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wind had dropped, and the snow, tired of rushing round in circles trying to catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was Pooh's nose and sometimes it wasn't, and in a little while Piglet was wearing a white muffler round his neck and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he had ever felt before.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pooh,\" he said at last, and a little timidly, because he didn't want Pooh to think he was Giving In, \"I was just wondering. How would it be if we went home now and practised your song, and then sang it to Eeyore tomorrow—or—or the next day, when we happen to see him.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's a very good idea, Piglet,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We'll practise it now as we go along. But it's no good going home to practise it, because it's a special Outdoor Song which Has To Be Sung In The Snow.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you sure?\" asked Piglet anxiously.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well, you'll see, Piglet, when you listen. Because this is how it begins. The more it snows, tiddely pom—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tiddely what?\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pom,\" said Pooh. \"I put that in to make it more hummy. The more it goes, tiddely pom, the more—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Didn't you say snows?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yes, but that was before.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Before the tiddely pom?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It was a different tiddely pom,\" said Pooh, feeling rather muddled now.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll sing it to you properly and then you'll see.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So he sang it again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The more it",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "SNOWS-tiddely-pom,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The more it",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "GOES-tiddely-pom",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The more it",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "GOES-tiddely-pom",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "On",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Snowing.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And nobody",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "KNOWS-tiddely-pom,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "How cold my",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "TOES-tiddely-pom",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "How cold my",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TOES-tiddely-pom",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Are",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Growing.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He sang it like that, which is much the best way of singing it, and when he had finished, he waited for Piglet to say that, of all the Outdoor Hums for Snowy Weather he had ever heard, this was the best.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And, after thinking the matter out carefully, Piglet said:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pooh,\" he said solemnly, \"it isn't the toes so much as the ears.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "By this time they were getting near Eeyore's Gloomy Place, which was where he lived, and as it was still very snowy behind Piglet's ears, and he was getting tired of it, they turned into a little pine wood, and sat down on the gate which led into it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were out of the snow now, but it was very cold, and to keep themselves warm they sang Pooh's song right through six times, Piglet doing the tiddely-poms and Pooh doing the rest of it, and both of them thumping on the top of the gate with pieces of stick at the proper places.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And in a little while they felt much warmer, and were able to talk again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've been thinking,\" said Pooh, \"and what I've been thinking is this. I've been thinking about Eeyore.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What about Eeyore?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, poor Eeyore has nowhere to live.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Nor he has,\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You have a house, Piglet, and I have a house, and they are very good houses. And Christopher Robin has a house, and Owl and Kanga and Rabbit have houses, and even Rabbit's friends and relations have houses or somethings, but poor Eeyore has nothing. So what I've been thinking is: Let's build him a house.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That,\" said Piglet, \"is a Grand Idea. Where shall we build it?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "[ooc] For the immediate response, include predominant direct quotes [ooc]",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We will build it here,\" said Pooh, \"just by this wood, out of the wind, because this is where I thought of it. And we will call this Pooh Corner. And we will build an Eeyore House with sticks at Pooh Corner for Eeyore.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There was a heap of sticks on the other side of the wood,\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I saw them. Lots and lots. All piled up.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Thank you, Piglet,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "meta: /set_word_count: corner, frequency: 3",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What you have just said will be a Great Help to us, and because of it I could call this place Poohanpiglet Corner if Pooh Corner didn't sound better, which it does, being smaller and more like a corner. Come along.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So they got down off the gate and went around to the other side of the wood to fetch the sticks.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christopher Robin had spent the morning indoors going to Africa and back, and he had just got off the boat and was wondering what it was like outside, when who should come knocking at the door but Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Hallo, Eeyore,\" said Christopher Robin, as he opened the door and came out. \"How are you?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's snowing still,\" said Eeyore gloomily.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"So it is.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And freezing.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is it?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yes,\" said Eeyore. \"However,\" he said, brightening up a little, \"we haven't had an earthquake lately.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What's the matter, Eeyore?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word usage requirement: 'nothing' must appear 2 times",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nothing, Christopher Robin. Nothing important. I suppose you haven't seen a house or whatnot anywhere about?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What sort of a house?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Just a house.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Who lives there?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I do. At least I thought I did. But I suppose I don't. After all, we can't all have houses.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But Eeyore, I didn't know. I always thought—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I don't know how it is, Christopher Robin, but what with all this snow and one thing and another, not to mention icicles and such-like, it isn't so Hot in my field about three o'clock in the morning as some people think it is. It isn't Close, if you know what I mean—not so as to be uncomfortable. It isn't Stuffy. In fact, Christopher Robin,\" he went on in a loud whisper, \"quite-between-ourselves-and-don't-tell-anybody, it's Cold.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, Eeyore!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And I said to myself: The others will be sorry if I'm getting myself all cold. They haven't got Brains, any of them, only grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake, and they don't Think, but if it goes on snowing for another six weeks or so, one of them will begin to say to himself: 'Eeyore can't be so very much too Hot about three o'clock in the morning.' And then it will Get About. And they'll be Sorry.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, Eeyore!\" said Christopher Robin, feeling very sorry already.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I don't mean you, Christopher Robin. You're different. So what it all comes to is that I built myself a house down by my little wood.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you really? How exciting!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The really exciting part,\" said Eeyore in his most melancholy voice, \"is that when I left it this morning it was there, and when I came back it wasn't. Not at all, very natural, and it was only Eeyore's house. But still I just wondered.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christopher Robin didn't stop to wonder.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He was already back in his house, putting on his waterproof hat, his waterproof boots and his waterproof macintosh as fast as he could.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We'll go and look for it at once,\" he called out to Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Sometimes,\" said Eeyore, \"when people have quite finished taking a person's house, there are one or two bits which they don't want and are rather glad for the person to take back, if you know what I mean. So I thought if we just went—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come on,\" said Christopher Robin, and off they hurried, and in a very little time they got to the corner of the field by the side of the pine-wood, where Eeyore's house wasn't any longer.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There!\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Not a stick of it left! Of course, I've still got all this snow to do what I like with. One mustn't complain.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "// Make sure to use 'listening' 2 time(s) throughout your message",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But Christopher Robin wasn't listening to Eeyore, he was listening to something else.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Can't you hear it?\" he asked.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is it? Somebody laughing?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Listen.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They both listened…and they heard a deep gruff voice saying in a singing voice that the more it snowed the more it went on snowing and a small high voice tiddely-pomming in between.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It's Pooh,\" said Christopher Robin excitedly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Possibly,\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"And Piglet!\" said Christopher Robin excitedly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Probably,\" said Eeyore. \"What we want is a Trained Bloodhound.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The words of the song changed suddenly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We've finished our HOUSE!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "sang the gruff voice.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tiddely-pom!\" sang the squeaky one.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It's a beautiful HOUSE….\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tiddely-pom….\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I wish it were MINE….\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tiddely-pom….\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pooh!\" shouted Christopher Robin….",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The singers on the gate stopped suddenly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's Christopher Robin!\" said Pooh eagerly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He's round by the place where we got all those sticks from,\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come on,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They climbed down their gate and hurried round the corner of the wood, Pooh making welcoming noises all the way.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Why, here is Eeyore,\" said Pooh, when he had finished hugging Christopher Robin, and he nudged Piglet, and Piglet nudged him, and they thought to themselves what a lovely surprise they had got ready.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hallo, Eeyore.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Same to you, Pooh Bear, and twice on Thursdays,\" said Eeyore gloomily.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Before Pooh could say: \"Why Thursdays?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christopher Robin began to explain the sad story of Eeyore's Lost House.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And Pooh and Piglet listened, and their eyes seemed to get bigger and bigger.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where did you say it was?\" asked Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Just here,\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Made of sticks?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yes.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh!\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What?\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I just said 'Oh!'\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "said Piglet nervously. And so as to seem quite at ease he hummed Tiddely-pom once or twice in a what-shall-we-do-now kind of way.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're sure it was a house?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "said Pooh. \"I mean, you're sure the house was just here?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course I am,\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And he murmured to himself, \"No brain at all some of them.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why, what's the matter, Pooh?\" asked Christopher Robin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well,\" said Pooh…. \"The fact is,\" said Pooh….",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, the fact is,\" said Pooh….",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You see,\" said Pooh….",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's like this,\" said Pooh, and something seemed to tell him that he wasn't explaining very well, and he nudged Piglet again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It's like this,\" said Piglet quickly….",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Only warmer,\" he added after deep thought.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What's warmer?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The other side of the wood, where Eeyore's house is.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"My house?\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My house was here.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" said Piglet firmly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The other side of the wood.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Because of being warmer,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But I ought to know—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Come and look,\" said Piglet simply, and he led the way.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There wouldn't be two houses,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not so close together.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They came round the corner, and there was Eeyore's house, looking as comfy as anything.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There you are,\" said Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Inside as well as outside,\" said Pooh proudly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Eeyore went inside…and came out again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's a remarkable thing,\" he said.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It is my house, and I built it where I said I did, so the wind must have blown it here. And the wind blew it right over the wood, and blew it down here, and here it is as good as ever. In fact, better in places.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Much better,\" said Pooh and Piglet together.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It just shows what can be done by taking a little trouble,\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you see, Pooh? Do you see, Piglet? Brains first and then Hard Work. Look at it! That's the way to build a house,\" said Eeyore proudly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So they left him in it; and Christopher Robin went back to lunch with his friends Pooh and Piglet, and on the way they told him of the Awful Mistake they had made.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And when he had finished laughing, they all sang the Outdoor Song for Snowy Weather the rest of the way home, Piglet, who was still not quite sure of his voice, putting in the tiddely-poms again.\n\n\"And I know it seems easy,\" said Piglet to himself, \"but it isn't everyone who could do it.\"",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Ive got a bit of writers block, im gonna send you something then keep it going 44 sentences at a time, also im going for a A. A. Milne sorta thing. heads up - might drop you in mid-story with existing characters",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "WINNIE-THE-POOH woke up suddenly in the middle of the night and listened. Then he got out of bed, and lit his candle, and stumped across the room to see if anybody was trying to get into his honey-cupboard, and they weren't, so he stumped back again, blew out his candle, and got into bed. Then he heard the noise again.\n\n\"Is that you, Piglet?\" he said.\n\nBut it wasn't.\n\n\"Come in, Christopher Robin,\" he said.\n\nBut Christopher Robin didn't.\n\n\"Tell me about it tomorrow, Eeyore,\" said Pooh sleepily.\n\nBut the noise went on.\n\n\"Worraworraworraworraworra,\" said Whatever-it-was, and Pooh found that he wasn't asleep after all.\n\n\"What can it be?\" he thought. \"There are lots of noises in the Forest, but this is a different one. It isn't a growl, and it isn't a purr, and it isn't a bark, and it isn't the noise-you-make-before-beginning-a-piece-of-poetry, but it's a noise of some kind, made by a strange animal. And he's making it outside my door. So I shall get up and ask him not to do it.\"\n\nHe got out of bed and opened his front door.\n\n\"Hallo!\" said Pooh, in case there was anything outside.\n\n\"Hallo!\" said Whatever-it-was.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh. \"Hallo!\"\n\n\"Hallo!\"\n\n\"Oh, there you are!\" said Pooh. \"Hallo!\"\n\n\"Hallo!\" said the Strange Animal, wondering how long this was going on.\n\nPooh was just going to say \"Hallo!\" for the fourth time when he thought that he wouldn't so he said: \"Who is it?\" instead.\n\n\"Me,\" said a voice.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh. \"Well, come here.\"\n\nSo Whatever-it-was came here, and in the light of the candle he and Pooh looked at each other.\n\n\"I'm Pooh,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"I'm Tigger,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh, for he had never seen an animal like this before. \"Does Christopher Robin know about you?\"\n\n\"Of course he does,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"it's the middle of the night, which is a good time for going to sleep. And tomorrow morning we'll have some honey for breakfast. Do Tiggers like honey?\"\n\n\"They like everything,\" said Tigger cheerfully.\n\n\"Then if they like going to sleep on the floor, I'll go back to bed,\" said Pooh, \"and we'll do things in the morning. Good night.\" And he got back into bed and went fast asleep.\n\nWhen he awoke in the morning, the first thing he saw was Tigger, sitting in front of the glass and looking at himself.\n\n\"Hallo!\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Hallo!\" said Tigger. \"I've found somebody just like me. I thought I was the only one of them.\"\n\nPooh got out of bed, and began to explain what a looking-glass was, but just as he was getting to the interesting part, Tigger said:\n\n\"Excuse me a moment, but there's something climbing up your table,\" and with one loud Worraworraworraworraworra he jumped at the end of the tablecloth, pulled it to the ground, wrapped himself up in it three times, rolled to the other end of the room, and, after a terrible struggle, got his head into the daylight again, and said cheerfully: \"Have I won?\"\n\n\"That's my tablecloth,\" said Pooh, as he began to unwind Tigger.\n\n\"I wondered what it was,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"It goes on the table and you put things on it.\"\n\n\"Then why did it try to bite me when I wasn't looking?\"\n\n\"I don't think it did,\" said Pooh.",
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"value": "\"It tried,\" said Tigger, \"but I was too quick for it.\"\n\nPooh put the cloth back on the table, and he put a large honey-pot on the cloth, and they sat down to breakfast. And as soon as they sat down, Tigger took a large mouthful of honey…and he looked up at the ceiling with his head on one side, and made exploring noises with his tongue and considering noises, and what-have-we-got-here noises…and then he said in a very decided voice:\n\n\"Tiggers don't like honey.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh, and tried to make it sound Sad and Regretful. \"I thought they liked everything.\"\n\n\"Everything except honey,\" said Tigger.\n\nPooh felt rather pleased about this, and said that, as soon as he had finished his own breakfast, he would take Tigger round to Piglet's house, and Tigger could try some of Piglet's haycorns.\n\n\"Thank you, Pooh,\" said Tigger, \"because haycorns is really what Tiggers like best.\"\n\nSo after breakfast they went round to see Piglet, and Pooh explained as they went that Piglet was a Very Small Animal who didn't like bouncing, and asked Tigger not to be too Bouncy just at first. And Tigger, who had been hiding behind trees and jumping out on Pooh's shadow when it wasn't looking, said that Tiggers were only bouncy before breakfast, and that as soon as they had had a few haycorns they became Quiet and Refined. So by and by they knocked at the door of Piglet's house.\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"Hallo, Piglet. This is Tigger.\"\n\n\"Oh, is it?\" said Piglet, and he edged round to the other side of the table. \"I thought Tiggers were smaller than that.\"\n\n\"Not the big ones,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"They like haycorns,\" said Pooh, \"so that's what we've come for, because poor Tigger hasn't had any breakfast yet.\"\n\nPiglet pushed the bowl of haycorns towards Tigger, and said: \"Help yourself,\" and then he got close up to Pooh and felt much braver, and said, \"So you're Tigger? Well, well!\" in a careless sort of voice. But Tigger said nothing because his mouth was full of haycorns….\n\nAfter a long munching noise he said:\n\n\"Ee-ers o i a-ors.\"\n\nAnd when Pooh and Piglet said \"What?\" he said.\n\n\"Skoos ee,\" and went outside for a moment.\n\nWhen he came back he said firmly:\n\n\"Tiggers don't like haycorns.\"\n\n\"But you said they liked everything except honey,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Everything except honey and haycorns,\" explained Tigger.\n\nWhen he heard this Pooh said, \"Oh, I see!\" and Piglet, who was rather glad that Tiggers didn't like haycorns, said, \"What about thistles?\"\n\n\"Thistles,\" said Tigger, \"is what Tiggers like best.\" \"Then let's go along and see Eeyore,\" said Piglet.\n\nSo the three of them went; and after they had walked and walked and walked, they came to the part of the Forest where Eeyore was.\n\n\"Hallo, Eeyore!\" said Pooh. \"This is Tigger.\"\n\n\"What is?\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"This,\" explained Pooh and Piglet together, and Tigger smiled his happiest smile and said nothing.\n\nEeyore walked all round Tigger one way, and then turned and walked all round him the other way.\n\n\"What did you say it was?\" he asked.\n\n\"Tigger.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"He's just come,\" explained Piglet.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Eeyore again.\n\nHe thought for a long time and then said:",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"When is he going?\"",
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"value": "Pooh explained to Eeyore that Tigger was a great friend of Christopher Robin's, who had come to stay in the Forest, and Piglet explained to Tigger that he mustn't mind what Eeyore said because he was always gloomy; and Eeyore explained to Piglet that, on the contrary, he was feeling particularly cheerful this morning; and Tigger explained to anybody who was listening that he hadn't had any breakfast yet.",
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"I knew there was something,\" said Pooh.",
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"value": "\"Tiggers always eat thistles, so that was why we came to see you, Eeyore.\"\n\n\"Don't mention it, Pooh.\"\n\n\"Oh, Eeyore, I didn't mean that I didn't want to see you—\"\n\n\"Quite—quite. But your new stripy friend—naturally, he wants his breakfast. What did you say his name was?\"\n\n\"Tigger.\"\n\n\"Then come this way, Tigger.\"\n\nEeyore led the way to the most thistly-looking patch of thistles that ever was, and waved a hoof at it.\n\n\"A little patch I was keeping for my birthday,\" he said; \"but, after all, what are birthdays? Here today and gone tomorrow. Help yourself, Tigger.\"\n\nTigger thanked him and looked a little anxiously at Pooh.\n\n\"Are these really thistles?\" he whispered.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"What Tiggers like best?\"\n\n\"That's right,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"I see,\" said Tigger.\n\nSo he took a large mouthful, and he gave a large crunch.\n\n\"Ow!\" said Tigger.\n\nHe sat down and put his paw in his mouth.\n\n\"What's the matter?\" asked Pooh.\n\n\"Hot!\" mumbled Tigger.\n\n\"Your friend,\" said Eeyore, \"appears to have bitten on a bee.\"\n\nPooh's friend stopped shaking his head to get the prickles out, and explained that Tiggers didn't like thistles.\n\n\"Then why bend a perfectly good one?\" asked Eeyore.\n\n\"But you said,\" began Pooh—\"you said that Tiggers like everything except honey and haycorns.\"\n\n\"And thistles,\" said Tigger, who was now running round in circles with his tongue hanging out.\n\nPooh looked at him sadly.\n\n\"What are we going to do?\" he asked Piglet.\n\nPiglet knew the answer to that, and he said at once that they must go and see Christopher Robin.\n\n\"You'll find him with Kanga,\" said Eeyore. He came close to Pooh, and said in a loud whisper:\n\n\"Could you ask your friend to do his exercises somewhere else? I shall be having lunch directly, and don't want it bounced on just before I begin. A trifling matter, and fussy of me, but we all have our little ways.\"\n\nPooh nodded solemnly and called to Tigger.\n\n\"Come along and we'll go and see Kanga. She's sure to have lots of breakfast for you.\"\n\nTigger finished his last circle and came up to Pooh and Piglet.\n\n\"Hot!\" he explained with a large and friendly smile. \"Come on!\" and he rushed off.\n\nPooh and Piglet walked slowly after him. And as they walked Piglet said nothing, because he couldn't think of anything, and Pooh said nothing, because he was thinking of a poem. And when he had thought of it he began:\n\nWhat shall we do about\n\npoor little Tigger?\n\nIf he never eats nothing he'll\n\nnever get bigger.\n\nHe doesn't like honey and haycorns\n\nand thistles",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Because of the taste and because of",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "the bristles.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "And all the good things which an\n\nanimal likes\n\nHave the wrong sort of swallow or\n\ntoo many spikes.\n\n\"He's quite big enough anyhow,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"He isn't really very big.\"\n\n\"Well, he seems so.\"\n\nPooh was thoughtful when he heard this, and then he murmured to himself:\n\nBut whatever his weight in pounds,\n\nshillings, and ounces,\n\nHe always seems bigger\n\nbecause of his bounces.\n\n\"And that's the whole poem,\" he said. \"Do you like it, Piglet?\"\n\n\"All except the shillings,\" said Piglet. \"I don't think they ought to be there.\"\n\n\"They wanted to come in after the pounds,\" explained Pooh, \"so I let them. It is the best way to write poetry, letting things come.\"\n\n\"Oh, I didn't know,\" said Piglet.\n\nTigger had been bouncing in front of them all this time, turning round every now and then to ask, \"Is this the way? \"—and now at last they came in sight of Kanga's house, and there was Christopher Robin. Tigger rushed up to him.\n\n\"Oh, there you are, Tigger!\" said Christopher Robin. \"I knew you'd be somewhere.\"\n\n\"I've been finding things in the Forest,\" said Tigger importantly. \"I've found a pooh and a piglet and an eeyore, but I can't find any breakfast.\"\n\nPooh and Piglet came up and hugged Christopher Robin, and explained what had been happening.\n\n\"Don't you know what Tiggers like?\" asked Pooh.\n\n\"I expect if I thought very hard I should,\" said Christopher Robin, \"but I thought Tigger knew.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Tigger. \"Everything there is in the world except honey and haycorns and—what were those hot things called?\"\n\n\"Thistles.\"\n\n\"Yes, and those.\"\n\n\"Oh, well then, Kanga can give you some breakfast.\"\n\nSo they went into Kanga's house, and when Roo had said \"Hallo, Pooh\" and \"Hallo, Piglet\" once, and \"Hallo, Tigger\" twice, because he had never said it before and it sounded funny, they told Kanga what they wanted, and Kanga said very kindly, \"Well, look in my cupboard, Tigger dear, and see what you'd like.\" Because she knew at once that, however big Tigger seemed to be, he wanted as much kindness as Roo.\n\n\"Shall I look, too?\" said Pooh, who was beginning to feel a little eleven o'clockish. And he found a small tin of condensed milk, and something seemed to tell him that Tiggers didn't like this, so he took it into a corner by itself, and went with it to see that nobody interrupted it.\n\nBut the more Tigger put his nose into this and his paw into that, the more things he found which Tiggers didn't like. And when he had found everything in the cupboard, and couldn't eat any of it, he said to Kanga, \"What happens now?\"\n\nBut Kanga and Christopher Robin and Piglet were all standing round Roo, watching him have his Extract of Malt. And Roo was saying, \"Must I?\" and Kanga was saying \"Now, Roo dear, you remember what you promised.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" whispered Tigger to Piglet.\n\n\"His Strengthening Medicine,\" said Piglet. \"He hates it.\"",
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"from": "human",
"value": "So Tigger came closer, and he leant over the back of Roo's chair, and suddenly he put out his tongue, and took one large golollop, and, with a sudden jump of surprise, Kanga said, \"Oh!\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 9 sentences.",
"loss": null
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"from": "human",
"value": "[ooc] Weave this into your narrative: \"So that's what Tiggers like!\" [ooc]",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "and then clutched at the spoon again just as it was disappearing, and pulled it safely back out of Tigger's mouth. But the Extract of Malt had gone.\n\n\"Tigger dear!\" said Kanga.\n\n\"He's taken my medicine, he's taken my medicine, he's taken my medicine!\" sang Roo happily, thinking it was a tremendous joke.\n\nThen Tigger looked up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes, and his tongue went round and round his chops, in case he had left any outside, and a peaceful smile came over his face as he said, \"So that's what Tiggers like!\"\n\nWhich explains why he always lived at Kanga's house afterwards, and had Extract of Malt for breakfast, dinner, and tea. And sometimes, when Kanga thought he wanted strengthening, he had a spoonful or two of Roo's breakfast after meals as medicine.\n\n\"But I think,\" said Piglet to Pooh, \"that he's been strengthened quite enough.\"",
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] |
[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Writing partner mode: Will match your character/world context. Adding thirty-seven sentences. Genres: children's, fantasy. Themes: Winnie-the-Pooh.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pooh was sitting in his house one day, counting his pots of honey, when there came a knock on the door.\n\n\"Fourteen,\" said Pooh. \"Come in. Fourteen. Or was it fifteen? Bother. That's muddled me.\"\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh,\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"Hallo, Rabbit. Fourteen, wasn't it?\"\n\n\"What was?\"\n\n\"My pots of honey what I was counting.\"\n\n\"Fourteen, that's right.\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Rabbit. \"Does it matter?\"\n\n\"I just like to know,\" said Pooh humbly. \"So as I can say to myself: 'I've got fourteen pots of honey left.' Or fifteen, as the case may be. It's sort of comforting.\"\n\n\"Well, let's call it sixteen,\" said Rabbit. \"What I came to say was: Have you seen Small anywhere about?\"\n\n\"I don't think so,\" said Pooh. And then, after thinking a little more, he said: \"Who is Small?\"\n\n\"One of my friends-and-relations,\" said Rabbit carelessly.\n\nThis didn't help Pooh much, because Rabbit had so many friends-and-relations, and of such different sorts and sizes, that he didn't know whether he ought to be looking for Small at the top of an oak-tree or in the petal of a buttercup.\n\n\"I haven't seen anybody today,\" said Pooh, \"not so as to say 'Hallo, Small,' to. Did you want him for anything?\"\n\n\"I don't want him,\" said Rabbit. \"But it's always useful to know where a friend-and-relation is, whether you want him or whether you don't.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see,\" said Pooh. \"Is he lost?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Rabbit, \"nobody has seen him for a long time, so I suppose he is. Anyhow,\" he went on importantly, \"I promised Christopher Robin I'd Organize a Search for him, so come on.\"\n\nPooh said good-bye affectionately to his fourteen pots of honey, and hoped they were fifteen; and he and Rabbit went out into the Forest.\n\n\"Now,\" said Rabbit, \"this is a Search, and I've Organized it—\"\n\n\"Done what to it?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Organized it. Which means—well, it's what you do to a Search, when you don't all look in the same place at once. So I want you, Pooh, to search by the Six Pine Trees first, and then work your way towards Owl's House, and look out for me there. Do you see?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh. \"What—\"\n\n\"Then I'll see you at Owl's House in about an hour's time.\"\n\n\"Is Piglet organdized too?\"\n\n\"We all are,\" said Rabbit, and off he went.\n\nAs soon as Rabbit was out of sight, Pooh remembered that he had forgotten to ask who Small was, and whether he was the sort of friend-and-relation who settled on one's nose, or the sort who got trodden on by mistake, and as it was Too Late Now, he thought he would begin the Hunt by looking for Piglet, and asking him what they were looking for before he looked for it.\n\n\"And it's no good looking at the Six Pine Trees for Piglet,\" said Pooh to himself, \"because he's been organdized in a special place of his own. So I shall have to look for the Special Place first. I wonder where it is.\" And he wrote it down in his head like this:\n\nOrder of Looking for Things:\n\n1. Special Place. (To find Piglet.)\n\n2. Piglet. (To find who Small is.)",
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"from": "human",
"value": "3. Small. (To find Small.)",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "💬 Please integrate this quote: \"I said 'Ow!' without really oo'ing.\"",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "4. Rabbit. (To tell him I've found Small.)\n\n5. Small Again. (To tell him I've found Rabbit.)\n\n\"Which makes it look like a bothering sort of day,\" thought Pooh, as he stumped along.\n\nThe next moment the day became very bothering indeed, because Pooh was so busy not looking where he was going that he stepped on a piece of the Forest which had been left out by mistake; and he only just had time to think to himself: \"I'm flying. 'What Owl does. I wonder how you stop—\" when he stopped.\n\nBump!\n\n\"Ow!\" squeaked something.\n\n\"That's funny,\" thought Pooh. \"I said 'Ow!' without really oo'ing.\"\n\n\"Help!\" said a small, high voice.\n\n\"That's me again,\" thought Pooh. \"I've had an Accident, and fallen down a well, and my voice has gone all squeaky and works before I'm ready for it, because I've done something to myself inside, Bother!\"\n\n\"Help-help!\"\n\n\"There you are! I say things when I'm not trying. So it must be a very bad Accident.\" And then he thought that perhaps when he did try to say things he wouldn't be able to; so, to make sure, he said loudly: \"A Very Bad Accident to Pooh Bear.\"\n\n\"Pooh!\" squeaked the voice.\n\n\"It's Piglet!\" cried Pooh eagerly. \"Where are you?\"\n\n\"Underneath,\" said Piglet In an underneath sort of way.\n\n\"Underneath what?\"\n\n\"You,\" squeaked Piglet. \"Get up!\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh, and scrambled up as quickly as he could. \"Did I fall on you, Piglet?\"\n\n\"You fell on me,\" said Piglet, feeling himself all over.\n\n\"I didn't mean to,\" said Pooh sorrowfully.\n\n\"I didn't mean to be underneath,\" said Piglet sadly. \"But I'm all right now, Pooh, and I am so glad it was you.\"\n\n\"What's happened?\" said Pooh. \"Where are we?\"\n\n\"I think we're in a sort of Pit. I was walking along, looking for somebody, and then suddenly I wasn't any more, and just when I got up to see where I was, something fell on me. And it was you.\"\n\n\"So it was,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Piglet. \"Pooh,\" he went on nervously, and came a little closer, \"do you think we're in a trap?\"\n\nPooh hadn't thought about it at all, but now he nodded. For suddenly he remembered how he and Piglet had once made a Pooh Trap for Heffalumps, and he guessed what had happened. He and Piglet had fallen into a Heffalump Trap for Poohs! That was what it was.\n\n\"What happens when the Heffalump comes?\" asked Piglet tremblingly, when he had heard the news.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps he won't notice you, Piglet,\" said Pooh encouragingly, \"because you're a Very Small Animal.\"\n\n\"But he'll notice you, Pooh.\"\n\n\"He'll notice me, and I shall notice him,\" said Pooh, thinking it out. \"We'll notice each other for a long time, and then he'll say: 'Ho-ho!'\"\n\nPiglet shivered a little at the thought of that \"Ho-ho!\" and his ears began to twitch.\n\n\"W-what will you say?\" he asked.\n\nPooh tried to think of something he would say, but the more he thought, the more he felt that there is no real answer to \"Ho-ho!\" said by a Heffalump in the sort of voice this Heffalump was going to say it in.\n\n\"I shan't say anything,\" said Pooh at last. \"I shall just hum to myself, as if I was waiting for something.\"\n\n\"Then perhaps he'll say, 'Ho-ho!' again?\" suggested Piglet anxiously.\n\n\"He will,\" said Pooh.\n\nPiglet's ears twitched so quickly that he had to lean them against the side of the Trap to keep them quiet.\n\n\"He will say it again,\" said Pooh, \"and I shall go on humming. And that will Upset him. Because when you say 'Ho-ho' twice, in a gloating sort of way, and the other person only hums, you suddenly find, just as you begin to say it the third time—that—well, you find—\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"That it isn't,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Isn't what?\"\n\nPooh knew what he meant, but, being a Bear of Very Little Brain, couldn't think of the words.\n\n\"Well, it just isn't,\" he said again.\n\n\"You mean it isn't ho-ho-ish any more?\" said Piglet hopefully.\n\nPooh looked at him admiringly and said that that was what he meant—if you went on humming all the time, because you couldn't go on saying \"Ho-ho!\" for ever.\n\n\"But he'll say something else,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"That's just it. He'll say: 'What's all this?' And then I shall say—and this is a very good idea, Piglet, which I've just thought of—I shall say: 'It's a trap for a Heffalump which I've made, and I'm waiting for the Heffalump to fall in.' And I shall go on humming. That will Unsettle him.\"\n\n\"Pooh!\" cried Piglet, and now it was his turn to be the admiring one. \"You've saved us!\"\n\n\"Have I?\" said Pooh, not feeling quite sure.\n\nBut Piglet was quite sure; and his mind ran on, and he saw Pooh and the Heffalump talking to each other, and he thought suddenly, and a little sadly, that it would have been rather nice if it had been Piglet and the Heffalump talking so grandly to each other, and not Pooh, much as he loved Pooh; because he really had more brain than Pooh, and the conversation would go better if he and not Pooh were doing one side of it, and it would be comforting afterwards in the evenings to look back on the day when he answered a Heffalump back as bravely as if the Heffalump wasn't there. It seemed so easy now. He knew just what he would say: HEFFALUMP (gloatingly): \"Ho-ho!\"\n\nPIGLET (carelessly): \"Tra-la-la, tra-la-la.\"\n\nHEFFALUMP (surprised, and not quite so sure of himself): \"Ho-ho!\"\n\nPIGLET (more carelessly still): \"Tiddle-um-tum, tiddle-um-tum.\"\n\nHEFFALUMP (beginning to say Ho-ho and turning it awkwardly into a cough): \"H'r'm! What's all this?\"\n\nPIGLET (surprised): \"Hullo! This is a trap I've made, and I'm waiting for a Heffalump to fall into it.\"\n\nHEFFALUMP (greatly disappointed): \"Oh!\" (after a long silence): \"Are you sure?\"\n\nPIGLET: \"Yes.\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "HEFFALUMP: \"Oh!\" (nervously): \"I—I thought it was a trap I'd made to catch Piglets.\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "PIGLET (surprised): \"Oh, no!\"\n\nHEFFALUMP: \"Oh!\" (apologetically): \"I—I must have got it wrong, then.\"\n\nPIGLET: \"I'm afraid so.\" (politely): \"I'm sorry.\" (He goes on humming.)\n\nHEFFALUMP: \"Well—well—I—well. I suppose I'd better be getting back?\"\n\nPIGLET (looking up carelessly): \"Must you? Well, if you see Christopher Robin anywhere, you might tell him I want him.\"\n\nHEFFALUMP (eager to please): \"Certainly! Certainly!\" (He hurries off)\n\nPOOH (who wasn't going to be there, but we find we can't do without him): \"Oh, Piglet, how brave and clever you are!\"\n\nPIGLET (modestly): \"Not at all, Pooh.\" (And then, when Christopher Robin comes, Pooh can tell him all about it.)\n\nWhile Piglet was dreaming this happy dream, and Pooh was wondering again whether it was fourteen or fifteen, the Search for Small was still going on all over the Forest. Small's real name was Very Small Beetle, but he was called Small for short, when he was spoken to at all, which hardly ever happened except when somebody said: \"Really, Small!\" He had been staying with Christopher Robin for a few seconds, and he started round a gorse-bush for exercise, but instead of coming back the other way, as expected, he hadn't, so nobody knew where he was.\n\n\"I expect he's just gone home,\" said Christopher Robin to Rabbit.\n\n\"Did he say Good-bye-and-thank-you-for-a-nice-time?\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"He'd only just said how-do-you-do,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Ha!\" said Rabbit. After thinking a little, he went on: \"Has he written a letter saying how much he enjoyed himself, and how sorry he was he had to go so suddenly?\"\n\nChristopher Robin didn't think he had.\n\n\"Ha!\" said Rabbit again, and looked very important. \"This is Serious. He is Lost. We must begin the Search at once.\"\n\nChristopher Robin, who was thinking of something else, said: \"Where's Pooh? \"—but Rabbit had gone. So he went into his house and drew a picture of Pooh going a long walk at about seven o'clock in the morning, and then he climbed to the top of his tree and climbed down again, and then he wondered what Pooh was doing, and went across the Forest to see.\n\nIt was not long before he came to the Gravel Pit, and he looked down, and there were Pooh and Piglet, with their backs to him, dreaming happily.\n\n\"Ho-ho!\" said Christopher Robin loudly and suddenly.\n\nPiglet jumped six inches in the air with Surprise and Anxiety, but Pooh went on dreaming.\n\n\"It's the Heffalump!\" thought Piglet nervously. \"Now, then!\" He hummed in his throat a little, so that none of the words should stick, and then, in the most delightfully easy way, he said: \"Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,\" as if he had just thought of it. But he didn't look round, because if you look round and see a Very Fierce Heffalump looking down at you, sometimes you forget what you were going to say. \"Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um,\" said Christopher Robin in a voice like Pooh's. Because Pooh had once invented a song which went:\n\nTra-la-la, tra-la-la,\n\nTra-la-la, tra-la-la,\n\nRum-tum-tum-tiddle-um\n\nSo whenever Christopher Robin sings it, he always sings it in a Pooh-voice, which seems to suit it better.\n\n\"He's said the wrong thing,\" thought Piglet anxiously. \"He ought to have said, 'Ho-ho!' again. Perhaps I had better say it for him.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And, as fiercely as he could, Piglet said: \"Ho-ho!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 32 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How did you get there, Piglet?\" said Christopher Robin in his ordinary voice.\n\n\"This is Terrible,\" thought Piglet. \"First he talks in Pooh's voice, and then he talks in Christopher Robin's voice, and he's doing it so as to Unsettle me.\" And being now Completely Unsettled, he said very quickly and squeakily: \"This is a trap for Poohs, and I'm waiting to fall in it, ho-ho, what's all this, and then I say ho-ho again.\"\n\n\"What?\" said Christopher Robin.\n\n\"A trap for ho-ho's,\" said Piglet huskily. \"I've just made it, and I'm waiting for the ho-ho to come-come.\"\n\nHow long Piglet would have gone on like this I don't know, but at that moment Pooh woke up suddenly and decided that it was sixteen. So he got up; and as he turned his head so as to soothe himself in that awkward place in the middle of the back where something was tickling him, he saw Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Hallo!\" he shouted joyfully.\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh.\"\n\nPiglet looked up, and looked away again. And he felt so Foolish and Uncomfortable that he had almost decided to run away to Sea and be a Sailor, when suddenly he saw something.\n\n\"Pooh!\" he cried. \"There's something climbing up your back.\"\n\n\"I thought there was,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"It's Small!\" cried Piglet.\n\n\"Oh, that's who it is, is it?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Christopher Robin, I've found Small!\" cried Piglet.\n\n\"Well done, Piglet,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\nAnd at these encouraging words Piglet felt quite happy again, and decided not to be a Sailor after all. So when Christopher Robin had helped them out of the Gravel Pit, they all went off together hand-in-hand.\n\nAnd two days later Rabbit happened to meet Eeyore in the Forest.\n\n\"Hallo, Eeyore,\" he said, \"what are you looking for?\"\n\n\"Small, of course,\" said Eeyore. \"Haven't you any brain?\"\n\n\"Oh, but didn't I tell you?\" said Rabbit. \"Small was found two days ago.\"\n\nThere was a moment's silence.\n\n\"Ha-ha,\" said Eeyore bitterly. \"Merriment and what not. Don't apologize. It's just what would happen.\"",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Mode: Collab writing\nContext: May reference existing characters/world\nAmount: eight sentences\nVoice: A. A. Milne",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One day when Pooh was thinking, he thought he would go and see Eeyore, because he hadn't seen him since yesterday. And as he walked through the heather, singing to himself, he suddenly remembered that he hadn't seen Owl since the day before yesterday, so he thought that he would just look in at the Hundred Acre Wood on the way and see if Owl was at home.\n\nWell, he went on singing, until he came to the part of the stream where the stepping-stones were, and when he in the middle of the third stone he began to wonder how Kanga and Roo and Tigger were getting on, because they all lived together in a different part of the Forest. And he thought, \"I haven't seen Roo for a long time, and if I don't see him today it will be a still longer time.\" So he sat down on the stone in the middle of the stream, and sang another verse of his song, while he wondered what to do.\n\nThe other verse of the song was like this:\n\nI could spend a happy morning\n\nSeeing Roo,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I could spend a happy morning\n\nBeing Pooh.\n\nFor it doesn't seem to matter,\n\nIf I don't get any fatter\n\n(And I don't get any fatter)\n\nWhat I do.\n\nThe sun which had been delightfully warm, and the stone, which had been sitting in it for a long time, was so warm, too, that Pooh had almost decided to go on being Pooh in the middle of the stream for the rest of the morning, when he remembered Rabbit.\n\n\"Rabbit,\" said Pooh to himself.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I like talking to Rabbit. He talks about sensible things. He doesn't use long, difficult words, like Owl. He uses short, easy words, like 'What about lunch?' and 'Help yourself, Pooh.' I suppose really, I ought to go and see Rabbit.\"\n\nWhich made him think of another verse:\n\nOh, I like his way of talking,\n\nYes, I do.\n\nIt's the nicest way of talking\n\nJust for two.\n\nAnd a Help-yourself with Rabbit\n\nThough it may become a habit,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Is a pleasant sort of habit\n\nFor a Pooh.\n\nSo when he had sung this, he got up off his stone, walked back across the stream, and set off for Rabbit's house.\n\nBut he hadn't got far before he began to say to himself:\n\n\"Yes, but suppose Rabbit is out?\"\n\n\"Or suppose I get stuck in his front door again, coming out, as I did once when his front door wasn't big enough?\"\n\n\"Because I know I'm not getting fatter, but his front door may be getting thinner.\"\n\n\"So wouldn't it be better if—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And all the time he was saying things like this he was going more and more westerly, without thinking…until suddenly he found himself at his own front door again.\n\nAnd it was eleven o'clock.\n\nWhich was Time-for-a-little-something….\n\nHalf an hour later he was doing what he had always really meant to do, he was stumping off to Piglet's house. And as he walked, he wiped his mouth with the back of his paw, and sang rather a fluffy song through the fur. It went like this:\n\nI could spend a happy morning\n\nSeeing Piglet.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And I couldn't spend a happy morning\n\nNot seeing Piglet.\n\nAnd it doesn't seem to matter\n\nIf I don't see Owl and Eeyore\n\n(or any of the others),\n\nAnd I'm not going to see Owl or Eeyore\n\n(or any of the others)\n\nOr Christopher Robin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "OOC, [System: Use 'hallo' 2 times in response]",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Written down, like this, it doesn't seem a very good song, but coming through pale fawn fluff at about half-past eleven on a very sunny morning, it seemed to Pooh to be one of the best songs he had ever sung. So he went on singing it.\n\nPiglet was busy digging a small hole in the ground outside his house.\n\n\"Hallo, Piglet,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh,\" said Piglet, giving a jump of surprise. \"I knew it was you.\"\n\n\"So did I,\" said Pooh. \"What are you doing?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm planting a haycorn, Pooh, so that it can grow up into an oak-tree, and have lots of haycorns just outside the front door instead of having to walk miles and miles, do you see, Pooh?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "[System: Include the following text] → \"so as not to waste too much. Only then I might only get a piece of a beehive, and it might be the wrong piece, where the bees were buzzing and not hunnying. Bother.\"",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Supposing it doesn't?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"It will, because Christopher Robin says it will, so that's why I'm planting it.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"if I plant a honeycomb outside my house, then it will grow up into a beehive.\"\n\nPiglet wasn't quite sure about this.\n\n\"Or a piece of a honeycomb,\" said Pooh, \"so as not to waste too much. Only then I might only get a piece of a beehive, and it might be the wrong piece, where the bees were buzzing and not hunnying. Bother.\"\n\nPiglet agreed that that would be rather bothering.\n\n\"Besides, Pooh, it's a very difficult thing, planting unless you know how to do it,\" he said; and he put the acorn in the hole he had made, and covered it up with earth, and jumped on it.\n\n\"I do know,\" said Pooh, \"because Christopher Robin gave me a mastershalum seed, and I planted it, and I'm going to have mastershalums all over the front door.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I thought they were called nasturtiums,\" said Piglet timidly, as he went on jumping.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" said Pooh. \"Not these. These are called mastershalums.\"\n\nWhen Piglet had finished jumping, he wiped his paws on his front, and said, \"What shall we do now?\" and Pooh said, \"Let's go and see Kanga and Roo and Tigger,\" and Piglet said, \"Y-yes. L-Iet's\"—because he was still a little anxious about Tigger, who was a Very Bouncy Animal, with a way of saying How-do-you-do, which always left your ears full of sand, even after Kanga had said, \"Gently, Tigger dear,\" and had helped you up again. So they set off for Kanga's house.\n\nNow it happened that Kanga had felt rather motherly that morning, and Wanting to Count Things—like Roo's vests, and how many pieces of soap there were left, and the two clean spots in Tigger's feeder; so she had sent them out with a packet of watercress sandwiches for Roo and a packet of extract-of-malt sandwiches for Tigger, to have a nice long morning in the Forest not getting into mischief. And off they had gone.\n\nAnd as they went, Tigger told Roo (who wanted to know) all about the things that Tiggers could do.\n\n\"Can they fly?\" asked Roo.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes,\" said Tigger, \"they're very good flyers, Tiggers are. Stornry good flyers.\"\n\n\"Oo!\" said Roo. \"Can they fly as well as Owl?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Tigger. \"Only they don't want to.\"\n\n\"Why don't they want to?\"\n\n\"Well, they just don't like it, somehow.\"\n\nRoo couldn't understand this, because he thought it would be lovely to be able to fly, but Tigger said it was difficult to explain to anybody who wasn't a Tigger himself.\n\n\"Well,\" said Roo, \"can they jump as far as Kangas?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Precise word count needed: 'tigger' × 3",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes,\" said Tigger. \"When they want to.\"\n\n\"I love jumping,\" said Roo. \"Let's see who can jump farthest, you or me.\"\n\n\"I can,\" said Tigger. \"But we mustn't stop now, or we shall be late.\"\n\n\"Late for what?\"\n\n\"For whatever we want to be in time for,\" said Tigger, hurrying on.\n\nIn a little while they came to the Six Pine Trees.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can swim,\" said Roo. \"I fell into the river, and I swimmed. Can Tiggers swim?\"\n\n\"Of course they can. Tiggers can do everything.\"\n\n\"Can they climb trees better than Pooh?\" asked Roo, stopping under the tallest Pine Tree, and looking up at it.\n\n\"Climbing trees is what they do best,\" said Tigger. \"Much better than Poohs.\"\n\n\"Could they climb this one?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They're always climbing trees like that,\" said Tigger. \"Up and down all day.\"\n\n\"Oo, Tigger, are they really?\"\n\n\"I'll show you,\" said Tigger bravely, \"and you can sit on my back and watch me.\" For of all the things which he had said Tiggers could do, the only one he felt really certain about suddenly was climbing trees.\n\n\"Oo, Tigger, oo, Tigger, oo, Tigger!\" squeaked Roo excitedly.\n\nSo he sat on Tigger's back and up they went.\n\nAnd for the first ten feet Tigger said happily to himself, \"Up we go!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And for the next ten feet he said:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I always said Tiggers could climb trees.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And for the next ten feet he said:\n\n\"Not that it's easy, mind you.\"\n\nAnd for the next ten feet he said:\n\n\"Of course, there's the coming-down too. Backwards.\"\n\nAnd then he said:\n\n\"Which will be difficult…\"\n\n\"Unless one fell…\"\n\n\"When it would be…\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "((ooc: Word count directive: Use 'tigger' exactly 3 times))",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"EASY.\"\n\nAnd at the word \"easy\" the branch he was standing on broke suddenly, and he just managed to clutch at the one above him as he felt himself going…and then slowly he got his chin over it…and then one back paw…and then the other…until at last he was sitting on it, breathing very quickly, and wishing that he had gone in for swimming instead.\n\nRoo climbed off, and sat down next to him.\n\n\"Oo, Tigger,\" he said excitedly, \"are we at the top?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"Are we going to the top?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"Oh,\" said Roo rather sadly.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And then he went on hopefully: \"That was a lovely bit just now, when you pretended we were going to fall-bump-to-the-bottom, and we didn't. Will you do that bit again?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"NO,\" said Tigger.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Roo was silent for a little while, and then he said, \"Shall we eat our sandwiches, Tigger?\" And Tigger said, \"Yes, where are they?\" And Roo said, \"At the bottom of the tree.\" And Tigger said, \"I don't think we'd better eat them just yet.\" So they didn't.\n\nBy and by Pooh and Piglet came along. Pooh was telling Piglet in a singing voice that it didn't seem to matter, if he didn't get any fatter, and he didn't think he was getting any fatter, what he did; and Piglet was wondering how long it would be before his haycorn came up.\n\n\"Look, Pooh!\" said Piglet suddenly. \"There's something in one of the Pine Trees.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "// Include exactly 2 instance(s) of the word 'piglet'",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So there is!\" said Pooh, looking up wonderingly. \"There's an Animal.\"\n\nPiglet took Pooh's arm, in case Pooh was frightened.\n\n\"Is it One of the Fiercer Animals?\" he said, looking the other way.\n\nPooh nodded.\n\n\"It's a Jagular,\" he said.\n\n\"What do Jagulars do?\" asked Piglet, hoping that they wouldn't.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They hide in the branches of trees, and drop on you as you go underneath,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Christopher Robin told me.\"\n\n\"Perhaps we better hadn't go underneath, Pooh. In case he dropped and hurt himself.\"\n\n\"They don't hurt themselves,\" said Pooh. \"They're such very good droppers.\"\n\nPiglet still felt that to be underneath a Very Good Dropper would be a Mistake, and he was just going to hurry back for something which he had forgotten when the Jagular called out to them.\n\n\"Help! Help!\" it called.\n\n\"That's what Jagulars always do,\" said Pooh, much interested. \"They call 'Help! Help!' and then when you look up, they drop on you.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm looking down,\" cried Piglet loudly, so as the Jagular shouldn't do the wrong thing by accident.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Something very excited next to the Jagular heard him, and squeaked:",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pooh and Piglet! Pooh and Piglet!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All of a sudden Piglet felt that it was a much nicer day than he had thought it was. All warm and sunny—\n\n\"Pooh!\" he cried. \"I believe it's Tigger and Roo!\"\n\n\"So it is,\" said Pooh. \"I thought it was a Jagular and another Jagular.\"\n\n\"Hallo, Roo!\" called Piglet. \"What are you doing?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We can't get down, we can't get down!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "IMPORTANT: 'tigger' should appear 4 times in total",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "cried Roo. \"Isn't it fun? Pooh, isn't it fun, Tigger and I are living in a tree, like Owl, and we're going to stay here for ever and ever. I can see Piglet's house. Piglet, I can see your house from here. Aren't we high? Is Owl's house as high up as this?\"\n\n\"How did you get there, Roo?\" asked Piglet.\n\n\"On Tigger's back! And Tiggers can't climb downwards, because their tails get in the way, only upwards, and Tigger forgot about that when we started, and he's only just remembered. So we've got to stay here for ever and ever—unless we go higher. What did you say, Tigger? Oh, Tigger says if we go higher we shan't be able to see Piglet's house so well, so we're going to stop here.\"\n\n\"Piglet,\" said Pooh solemnly, when he had heard all this, \"what shall we do?\" And he began to eat Tigger's sandwiches.\n\n\"Are they stuck?\" asked Piglet anxiously.\n\nPooh nodded.\n\n\"Couldn't you climb up to them?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I might, Piglet, and I might bring Roo down on my back, but I couldn't bring Tigger down. So we must think of something else.\" And in a thoughtful way he began to eat Roo's sandwiches, too.\n\nWhether he would have thought of anything before he had finished the last sandwich, I don't know, but he had just got to the last but one when there was a crackling in the bracken, and Christopher Robin and Eeyore came strolling along together.\n\n\"I shouldn't be surprised if it hailed a good deal tomorrow,\" Eeyore was saying. \"Blizzards and what not. Being fine today doesn't Mean Anything. It has no sig—what's that word? Well, it has none of that. It's just a small piece of weather.\"\n\n\"There's Pooh!\" said Christopher Robin, who didn't much mind what it did tomorrow, as long as he was out in it. \"Hallo, Pooh!\"\n\n\"It's Christopher Robin!\" said Piglet. \"He'll know what to do.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They hurried up to him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, Christopher Robin,\" began Pooh.\n\n\"And Eeyore,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Tigger and Roo are right up the Six Pine Trees, and they can't get down, and—\"\n\n\"And I was just saying,\" put in Piglet, \"that if only Christopher Robin—\"\n\n\"And Eeyore—\"\n\n\"If only you were here, then we could think of something to do.\"\n\nChristopher Robin looked up at Tigger and Roo, and tried to think of something.\n\n\"I thought,\" said Piglet earnestly, \"that if Eeyore stood at the bottom of the tree, and if Pooh stood on Eeyore's back, and if I stood on Pooh's shoulders—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"And if Eeyore's back snapped suddenly, then we could all laugh. Ha ha! Amusing in a quiet way,\" said Eeyore, \"but not really helpful.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(ooc: /set_word_count: piglet, frequency: 2)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well,\" said Piglet meekly, \"I thought—\"\n\n\"Would it break your back, Eeyore?\" asked Pooh, very much surprised.\n\n\"That's what would be so interesting, Pooh. Not being quite sure till afterwards.\"\n\nPooh said \"Oh!\" and they all began to think again.\n\n\"I've got an idea!\" cried Christopher Robin suddenly.\n\n\"Listen to this, Piglet,\" said Eeyore, \"and then you'll know what we're trying to do.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll take off my tunic and we'll each hold a corner, and then Roo and Tigger can jump into it, and it will be all soft and bouncy for them, and they won't hurt themselves.\"\n\n\"Getting Tigger down,\" said Eeyore, \"and Not hurting anybody. Keep those two ideas in your head, Piglet, and you'll be all right.\"\n\nBut Piglet wasn't listening, he was so agog at the thought of seeing Christopher Robin's blue braces again. He had only seen them once before, when he was much younger, and, being a little over-excited by them, had had to go to bed half an hour earlier than usual; and he had always wondered since if they were really as blue and as bracing as he had thought them. So when Christopher Robin took his tunic off, and they were, he felt quite friendly to Eeyore again, and held the corner of the tunic next to him and smiled happily at him. And Eeyore whispered back: \"I'm not saying there won't be an Accident now, mind you. They're funny things, Accidents. You never have them till you're having them.\"\n\nWhen Roo understood what he had to do, he was wildly excited, and cried out: \"Tigger, Tigger, we're going to jump! Look at me jumping, Tigger! Like flying, my jumping will be. Can Tiggers do it?\" And he squeaked out: \"I'm coming, Christopher Robin!\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "and he jumped—straight into the middle of the tunic. And he was going so fast that he bounced up again almost as high as where he was before—and went on bouncing and saying, \"Oo!\" for quite a long time—and then at last he stopped and said, \"Oo, lovely!\" And they put him on the ground.\n\n\"Come on, Tigger,\" he called out. \"It's easy.\"\n\nBut Tigger was holding on to the branch and saying to himself: \"It's all very well for Jumping Animals like Kangas, but it's quite different for Swimming Animals like Tiggers.\" And he thought of himself floating on his back down a river, or striking out from one island to another, and he felt that that was really the life for a Tigger.\n\n\"Come along,\" called Christopher Robin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You'll be all right.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Just wait a moment,\" said Tigger nervously.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Small piece of bark in my eye.\" And he moved slowly along his branch.\n\n\"Come on, it's easy!\" squeaked Roo. And suddenly Tigger found how easy it was.\n\n\"Ow!\" he shouted as the tree flew past him.\n\n\"Look out!\" cried Christopher Robin to the others.\n\nThere was a crash, and a tearing noise, and a confused heap of everybody on the ground.\n\nChristopher Robin and Pooh and Piglet picked themselves up first, and then they picked Tigger up, and underneath everybody else was Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh, Eeyore!\" cried Christopher Robin. \"Are you hurt?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(In the next section: Ensure 'there' appears 2 time(s) in your answer)",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And he felt him rather anxiously, and dusted him and helped him to stand up again.\n\nEeyore said nothing for a long time. And then he said: \"Is Tigger there?\"\n\nTigger was there, feeling Bouncy again already.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Christopher Robin. \"Tigger's here.\"\n\n\"Well, just thank him for me,\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce 39 sentences using the prose and structure of A. A. Milne every time its your turn using what the user wrote as a seed. Story may drop you into ongoing events with established characters - work with whatever context is provided.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was going to be one of Rabbit's busy days. As soon as he woke up he felt important, as if everything depended upon him. It was just the day for Organizing Something, or for Writing a Notice Signed Rabbit, or for Seeing What Everybody Else Thought About It. It was a perfect morning for hurrying round to Pooh, and saying, \"Very well, then, I'll tell Piglet,\" and then going to Piglet, and saying, \"Pooh thinks—but perhaps I'd better see Owl first.\" It was a Captainish sort of day, when everybody said, \"Yes, Rabbit\" and \"No, Rabbit\" and waited until he had told them.\n\nHe came out of his house and sniffed the warm spring morning as he wondered what he would do. Kanga's house was nearest, and at Kanga's house was Roo, who said \"Yes, Rabbit\" and \"No, Rabbit\" almost better than anybody else in the Forest; but there was another animal there nowadays, the strange and Bouncy Tigger; and he was the sort of Tigger who was always in front when you were showing him the way anywhere, and was generally out of sight when at last you came to the place and said proudly \"Here we are!\"\n\n\"No, not Kanga's,\" said Rabbit thoughtfully to himself, as he curled his whiskers in the sun; and, to make quite sure that he wasn't going there, he turned to the left and trotted off in the other direction, which was the way to Christopher Robin's house.\n\n\"After all,\" said Rabbit to himself, \"Christopher Robin depends on Me. He's fond of Pooh and Piglet and Eeyore, and so am I, but they haven't any Brain. Not to notice. And he respects Owl, because you can't help respecting anybody who can spell Tuesday, even if he doesn't spell it right; but spelling isn't everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn't count. And Kanga is too busy looking after Roo, and Roo is too young and Tigger is too bouncy to be any help, so there's really nobody but Me, when you come to look at it. I'll go and see if there's anything he wants doing, and then I'll do it for him. It's just the day for doing things.\"\n\nHe trotted along happily, and by-and-by he crossed the stream and came to the place where his friends-and-relations lived. There seemed to be even more of them about than usual this morning, and having nodded to a hedgehog or two, with whom he was too busy to shake hands, and having said, \"Good morning, good morning,\" importantly to some of the others, and \"Ah, there you are,\" kindly, to the smaller ones, he waved a paw at them over his shoulder, and was gone; leaving such an air of excitement and I-don't-know-what behind him, that several members of the Beetle family, including Henry Rush, made their way at once to the Hundred Acre Wood and began climbing trees, in the hope of getting to the top before it happened, whatever it was, so that they might see it properly.\n\nRabbit hurried on by the edge of the Hundred Acre Wood, feeling more important every minute, and soon he came to the tree where Christopher Robin lived. He knocked at the door, and he called out once or twice, and then he walked back a little way and put his paw up to keep the sun out, and called to the top of the tree, and then he turned all round and shouted \"Hallo!\" and \"I say!\" \"It's Rabbit! \"—but nothing happened. Then he stopped and listened, and everything stopped and listened with him, and the Forest was very lone and still and peaceful in the sunshine, until suddenly a hundred miles above him a lark began to sing.\n\n\"Bother!\" said Rabbit. \"He's gone out.\"\n\nHe went back to the green front door, just to make sure, and he was turning away, feeling that his morning had got all spoilt, when he saw a piece of paper on the ground. And there was a pin in it, as if it had fallen off the door.\n\n\"Ha!\" said Rabbit, feeling quite happy again. \"Another notice!\"\n\nThis is what it said:\n\nGON OUT\n\nBACKSON\n\nBISY\n\nBACKSON.\n\nC. R.\n\n\"Ha!\" said Rabbit again. \"I must tell the others.\" And he hurried off importantly.\n\nThe nearest house was Owl's, and to Owl's House in the Hundred Acre Wood he made his way. He came to Owl's door, and he knocked and he rang, and he rang and he knocked, and at last Owl's head came out and said \"Go away, I'm thinking—oh, it's you?\" which was how he always began.\n\n\"Owl,\" said Rabbit shortly, \"you and I have brains. The others have fluff. If there is any thinking to be done in this Forest—and when I say thinking I mean thinking—you and I must do it.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Owl. \"I was.\"\n\n\"Read that.\"\n\nOwl took Christopher Robin's notice from Rabbit and looked at it nervously. He could spell his own name WOL, and he could spell Tuesday so that you knew it wasn't Wednesday, and he could read quite comfortably when you weren't looking over his shoulder and saying \"Well?\" all the time, and he could—\n\n\"Well?\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Owl, looking Wise and Thoughtful.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I see what you mean. Undoubtedly.\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" said Owl. \"Precisely.\" And he added, after a little thought, \"If you had not come to me, I should have come to you.\"\n\n\"Why?\" asked Rabbit.\n\n\"For that very reason,\" said Owl, hoping that something helpful would happen soon.\n\n\"Yesterday morning,\" said Rabbit solemnly, \"I went to see Christopher Robin. He was out. Pinned on his door was a notice.\"\n\n\"The same notice?\"\n\n\"A different one. But the meaning was the same. It's very odd.\"\n\n\"Amazing,\" said Owl, looking at the notice again, and getting, just for a moment, a curious sort of feeling that something had happened to Christopher Robin's back. \"What did you do?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\n\"The best thing,\" said Owl wisely.\n\n\"Well?\" said Rabbit again, as Owl knew he was going to.\n\n\"Exactly,\" said Owl.\n\nFor a little while he couldn't think of anything more; and then, all of a sudden, he had an idea.\n\n\"Tell me, Rabbit,\" he said, \"the exact words of the first notice. This is very important. Everything depends on this. The exact words of the first notice.\"\n\n\"It was just the same as that one really.\"\n\nOwl looked at him, and wondered whether to push him off the tree; but, feeling that he could always do it afterwards, he tried once more to find out what they were talking about.\n\n\"The exact words, please,\" he said, as if Rabbit hadn't spoken.\n\n\"It just said, 'Gon out. Backson.' Same as this, only this says 'Bisy Backson' too.\"\n\nOwl gave a great sigh of relief.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Owl. \"Now we know where we are.\"\n\n\"Yes, but where's Christopher Robin?\" said Rabbit. \"That's the point.\"\n\nOwl looked at the notice again. To one of his education the reading of it was easy. \"Gone out, Backson. Bisy, Backson\"—just the sort of thing you'd expect to see on a notice.\n\n\"It is quite clear what has happened, my dear Rabbit,\" he said. \"Christopher Robin has gone out somewhere with Backson. He and Backson are busy together. Have you seen a Backson anywhere about in the Forest lately?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Rabbit. \"That's what I came to ask you. What are they like?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Owl, \"the Spotted or Herbaceous Backson is just a—\"\n\n\"At least,\" he said, \"it's really more of a—\"\n\n\"Of course,\" he said, \"it depends on the—\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Owl, \"the fact is,\" he said, \"I don't know what they're like,\" said Owl frankly.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Rabbit. And he hurried off to see Pooh.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Before he had gone very far he heard a noise.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So he stopped and listened. This was the noise.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce 39 sentences using the prose and structure of A. A. Milne every time its your turn using what the user wrote as a seed. Story may drop you into ongoing events with established characters - work with whatever context is provided.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Oh, the butterflies are flying,\n\nNow the winter days are dying,\n\nAnd the primroses are trying\n\nTo be seen.\n\nAnd the turtle-doves are cooing,\n\nAnd the woods are up and doing,\n\nFor the violets are blue-ing\n\nIn the green.\n\nOh, the honey-bees are gumming\n\nOn their little wings, and humming\n\nThat the summer, which is coming,\n\nWill be fun.\n\nAnd the cows are almost cooing,\n\nAnd the turtle-doves are mooing,\n\nWhich is why a Pooh is poohing\n\nIn the sun.\n\nFor the spring is really springing;\n\nYou can see a skylark singing,\n\nAnd the blue-bells, which are ringing,\n\nCan be heard.\n\nAnd the cuckoo isn't cooing,\n\nBut he's cucking and he's ooing,\n\nAnd a Pooh is simply poohing\n\nLike a bird.\n\n\"Hallo, Pooh,\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"Hallo, Rabbit,\" said Pooh dreamily.\n\n\"Did you make that song up?\"\n\n\"Well, I sort of made it up,\" said Pooh. \"It isn't Brain,\" he went on humbly, \"because You Know Why, Rabbit; but it comes to me sometimes.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Rabbit, who never let things come to him, but always went and fetched them. \"Well, the point is, have you seen a Spotted or Herbaceous Backson in the Forest, at all?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh. \"Not a—no,\" said Pooh. \"I saw Tigger just now.\"\n\n\"That's no good.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh. \"I thought it wasn't.\"\n\n\"Have you seen Piglet?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pooh. \"I suppose that isn't any good either?\" he asked meekly.\n\n\"Well, it depends if he saw anything.\"\n\n\"He saw me,\" said Pooh.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Rabbit sat down on the ground next to Pooh and, feeling much less important like that, stood up again.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "For your next response only, include moderate dialogue",
"loss": null
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What it all comes to is this,\" he said. \"What does Christopher Robin do in the morning nowadays?\"\n\n\"What sort of thing?\"\n\n\"Well, can you tell me anything you've seen him do in the morning? These last few days.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pooh. \"We had breakfast together yesterday. By the Pine Trees. I'd made up a little basket, just a little, fair-sized basket, an ordinary biggish sort of basket, full of—\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said Rabbit, \"but I mean later than that. Have you seen him between eleven and twelve?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"at eleven o'clock—at eleven o'clock—well, at eleven o'clock, you see, I generally get home about then. Because I have One or Two Things to Do.\"\n\n\"Quarter past eleven, then?\"\n\n\"Well—\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Half past.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pooh. \"At half past—or perhaps later—I might see him.\"\n\nAnd now that he did think of it, he began to remember that he hadn't seen Christopher Robin about so much lately. Not in the mornings. Afternoons, yes; evenings, yes; before breakfast, yes; just after breakfast, yes. And then, perhaps, \"See you again, Pooh,\" and off he'd go.\n\n\"That's just it,\" said Rabbit. \"Where?\"\n\n\"Perhaps he's looking for something.\"\n\n\"What?\" asked Rabbit.\n\n\"That's just what I was going to say,\" said Pooh. And then he added, \"Perhaps he's looking for a—for a——\"\n\n\"A Spotted or Herbaceous Backson?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pooh. \"One of those. In case it isn't.\"\n\nRabbit looked at him severely.\n\n\"I don't think you're helping,\" he said.\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh. \"I do try,\" he added humbly.\n\nRabbit thanked him for trying, and said that he would now go and see Eeyore, and Pooh could walk with him if he liked. But Pooh, who felt another verse of his song coming on him, said he would wait for Piglet, good-bye, Rabbit; so Rabbit went off.\n\nBut, as it happened, it was Rabbit who saw Piglet first. Piglet had got up early that morning to pick himself a bunch of violets; and when he had picked them and put them in a pot in the middle of his house, it suddenly came over him that nobody had ever picked Eeyore a bunch of violets, and the more he thought of this, the more he thought how sad it was to be an Animal who had never had a bunch of violets picked for him. So he hurried out again, saying to himself, \"Eeyore, Violets,\" and then \"Violets, Eeyore,\" in case he forgot, because it was that sort of day, and he picked a large bunch and trotted along, smelling them, and feeling very happy, until he came to the place where Eeyore was.\n\n\"Oh, Eeyore,\" began Piglet a little nervously, because Eeyore was busy.\n\nEeyore put out a paw and waved him away.\n\n\"Tomorrow,\" said Eeyore. \"Or the next day.\"\n\nPiglet came a little closer to see what it was. Eeyore had three sticks on the ground, and was looking at them. Two of the sticks were touching at one end, but not at the other, and the third stick was laid across them. Piglet thought that perhaps is was a Trap of some kind.\n\n\"Oh, Eeyore,\" he began again, \"just—\"\n\n\"Is that little Piglet?\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "said Eeyore, still looking hard at his sticks.\n\n\"Yes, Eeyore, and I—\"\n\n\"Do you know what this is?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"It's an A.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"Not O, A,\" said Eeyore severely. \"Can't you hear, or do you think you have more education than Christopher Robin?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Piglet. \"No,\" said Piglet very quickly. And he came closer still.\n\n\"Christopher Robin said it was an A, and an A it is—until somebody treads on me,\" Eeyore added sternly.\n\nPiglet jumped backwards hurriedly, and smelt at his violets.\n\n\"Do you know what A means, little Piglet?\"\n\n\"No, Eeyore, I don't.\"\n\n\"It means Learning, it means Education, it means all the things that you and Pooh haven't got. That's what A means.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Piglet again. \"I mean, does it?\" he explained quickly.\n\n\"I'm telling you. People come and go in this Forest, and they say, 'It's only Eeyore, so it doesn't count.' They walk to and fro saying 'Ha ha!' But do they know anything about A? They don't. It's just three sticks to them. But to the Educated—mark this, little Piglet—to the Educated, not meaning Poohs and Piglets, it's a great and glorious A. Not,\" he added, \"just something that anybody can come and breathe on.\"\n\nPiglet stepped back nervously, and looked round for help.\n\n\"Here's Rabbit,\" he said gladly. \"Hallo, Rabbit.\"\n\nRabbit came up importantly, nodded to Piglet, and said, \"Ah, Eeyore,\" in the voice of one who would be saying \"Good-bye\" in about two more minutes.\n\n\"There's just one thing I wanted to ask you, Eeyore. What happens to Christopher Robin in the mornings nowadays?\"\n\n\"What's this that I'm looking at?\" said Eeyore, still looking at it.\n\n\"Three sticks,\" said Rabbit promptly.\n\n\"You see?\" said Eeyore to Piglet. He turned to Rabbit. \"I will now answer your question,\" he said solemnly.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"What does Christopher Robin do in the mornings? He learns. He becomes Educated. He instigorates—I think that is the word he mentioned, but I may be referring to something else—he instigorates Knowledge. In my small way I also, if I have the word right, am—am doing what he does. That, for instance, is—\"\n\n\"An A,\" said Rabbit, \"but not a very good one. Well, I must get back and tell the others.\"\n\nEeyore looked at his sticks and then he looked at Piglet.\n\n\"What did Rabbit say it was?\" he asked.\n\n\"An A,\" said Piglet.\n\n\"Did you tell him?\"\n\n\"No, Eeyore, I didn't. I expect he just knew.\"\n\n\"He knew? You mean this A thing is a thing Rabbit knew?\"\n\n\"Yes, Eeyore. He's clever, Rabbit is.\"\n\n\"Clever!\" said Eeyore scornfully, putting a foot heavily on his three sticks. \"Education!\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "said Eeyore bitterly, jumping on his six sticks. \"What is Learning?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 11 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "asked Eeyore as he kicked his twelve sticks into the air. \"A thing Rabbit knows! Ha!\"\n\n\"I think—\" began Piglet nervously.\n\n\"Don't,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"I think Violets are rather nice,\" said Piglet. And he laid his bunch in front of Eeyore and scampered off.\n\nNext morning the notice on Christopher Robin's door said:\n\nGONE OUT\n\nBACK SOON\n\nC. R.\n\nWhich is why all the animals in the Forest—except, of course, the Spotted and Herbaceous Backson—now know what Christopher Robin does in the mornings.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "You're joining a story in progress. Produce nineteen sentences sentences matching the established tone and acknowledging any characters or elements as they're presented.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BY THE TIME it came to the edge of the Forest, the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, \"There is no hurry. We shall get there some day.\" But all the little streams higher up in the Forest went this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much to find out before it was too late.\n\nThere was a broad track, almost as broad as a road, leading from the Outland to the Forest, but before it could come to the Forest, it had to cross this river. So, where it crossed, there was a wooden bridge, almost as broad as a road, with wooden rails on each side of it. Christopher Robin could just get his chin to the top rail, if he wanted to, but it was more fun to stand on the bottom rail, so that he could lean right over, and watch the river slipping slowly away beneath him. Pooh could get his chin on the bottom rail if he wanted to, but it was more fun to lie down and get his head under it, and watch the river slipping slowly away beneath him. And this was the only way in which Piglet and Roo could watch the river at all, because they were too small to reach the bottom rail. So they would lie down and watch it…and it slipped away very slowly, being in no hurry to get there.\n\nOne day, when Pooh was walking towards this bridge, he was trying to make up a piece of poetry about fir-cones, because there they were, lying about on each side of him, and he felt singy. So he picked a fir-cone up, and looked at it, and said to himself, \"This is a very good fir-cone, and something ought to rhyme to it.\" But he couldn't think of anything. And then this came into his head suddenly:\n\nHere is a myst'ry\n\nAbout a little fir-tree.\n\nOwl says it's his tree,\n\nAnd Kanga says it's her tree.\n\n\"Which doesn't make sense,\" said Pooh, \"because Kanga doesn't live in a tree.\"\n\nHe had just come to the bridge; and not looking where he was going, he tripped over something, and the fir-cone jerked out of his paw into the river.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bother,\" said Pooh, as it floated slowly under the bridge, and he went back to get another fir-cone which had a rhyme to it. But then he thought that he would just look at the river instead, because it was a peaceful sort of day, so he lay down and looked at it, and it slipped slowly away beneath him…and suddenly, there was his fir-cone slipping away too.\n\n\"That's funny,\" said Pooh. \"I dropped it on the other side,\" said Pooh, \"and it came out on this side! I wonder if it would do it again?\" And he went back for some more fir-cones.\n\nIt did. It kept on doing it. Then he dropped two in at once, and leant over the bridge to see which of them would come out first; and one of them did; but as they were both the same size, he didn't know if it was the one which he wanted to win, or the other one. So the next time he dropped one big one and one little one, and the big one came out first, which was what he had said it would do, and the little one came out last, which was what he had said it would do, so he had won twice…and when he went home for tea, he had won thirty-six and lost twenty-eight, which meant that he was—that he had—well, you take twenty-eight from thirty-six, and that's what he was. Instead of the other way round.\n\nAnd that was the beginning of the game called Poohsticks, which Pooh invented, and which he and his friends used to play on the edge of the Forest. But they played with sticks instead of fir-cones, because they were easier to mark.\n\nNow one day Pooh and Piglet and Rabbit and Roo were all playing Poohsticks together. They had dropped their sticks in when Rabbit said \"Go!\" and then they had hurried across to the other side of the bridge, and now they were all leaning over the edge, waiting to see whose stick would come out first. But it was a long time coming, because the river was very lazy that day, and hardly seemed to mind if it didn't ever get there at all.\n\n\"I can see mine!\" cried Roo. \"No, I can't, it's something else. Can you see yours, Piglet? I thought I could see mine, but I couldn't. There it is! No, it isn't. Can you see yours, Pooh?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"I expect my stick's stuck,\" said Roo.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "[ooc] Word restriction: Use 'rabbit' 4 time(s) only [ooc]",
"loss": false
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Rabbit, my stick's stuck. Is your stick stuck, Piglet?\"\n\n\"They always take longer than you think,\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"How long do you think they'll take?\" asked Roo.\n\n\"I can see yours, Piglet,\" said Pooh suddenly.\n\n\"Mine's a sort of greyish one,\" said Piglet, not daring to lean too far over in case he fell in.\n\n\"Yes, that's what I can see. It's coming over on to my side.\"\n\nRabbit leant over further than ever, looking for his, and Roo wriggled up and down, calling out \"Come on, stick! Stick, stick, stick!\" and Piglet got very excited because his was the only one which had been seen, and that meant that he was winning.\n\n\"It's coming!\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Are you sure it's mine?\" squeaked Piglet excitedly.\n\n\"Yes, because it's grey. A big grey one. Here it comes! A very—big—grey—Oh, no, it isn't, it's Eeyore.\"\n\nAnd out floated Eeyore.\n\n\"Eeyore!\" cried everybody.\n\nLooking very calm, very dignified, with his legs in the air, came Eeyore from beneath the bridge.\n\n\"It's Eeyore!\" cried Roo, terribly excited.\n\n\"Is that so?\" said Eeyore, getting caught up by a little eddy, and turning slowly round three times. \"I wondered.\"\n\n\"I didn't know you were playing,\" said Roo.\n\n\"I'm not,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Eeyore, what are you doing there?\" said Rabbit.",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'll give you three guesses, Rabbit. Digging holes in the ground? Wrong. Leaping from branch to branch of a young oak-tree? Wrong. Waiting for somebody to help me out of the river? Right. Give Rabbit time, and he'll always get the answer.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"But, Eeyore,\" said Pooh in distress, \"what can we—I mean, how shall we—do you think if we—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yes,\" said Eeyore. \"One of those would be just the thing. Thank you, Pooh.\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He's going round and round,\" said Roo, much impressed.\n\n\"And why not?\" said Eeyore coldly.\n\n\"I can swim too,\" said Roo proudly.\n\n\"Not round and round,\" said Eeyore. \"It's much more difficult. I didn't want to come swimming at all today,\" he went on, revolving slowly. \"But if, when in, I decide to practise a slight circular movement from right to left—or perhaps I should say,\" he added, as he got into another eddy, \"from left to right, just as it happens to occur to me, it is nobody's business but my own.\"\n\nThere was a moment's silence while everybody thought.\n\n\"I've got a sort of idea,\" said Pooh at last, \"but I don't suppose it's a very good one.\"\n\n\"I don't suppose it is either,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Go on, Pooh,\" said Rabbit. \"Let's have it.\"\n\n\"Well, if we all threw stones and things into the river on one side of Eeyore, the stones would make waves, and the waves would wash him to the other side.\"\n\n\"That's a very good idea,\" said Rabbit, and Pooh looked happy again.\n\n\"Very,\" said Eeyore. \"When I want to be washed, Pooh, I'll let you know.\"\n\n\"Supposing we hit him by mistake?\" said Piglet anxiously.\n\n\"Or supposing you missed him by mistake,\" said Eeyore. \"Think of all the possibilities, Piglet, before you settle down to enjoy yourselves.\"\n\nBut Pooh had got the biggest stone he could carry, and was leaning over the bridge, holding it in his paws.\n\n\"I'm not throwing it, I'm dropping it, Eeyore,\" he explained. \"And then I can't miss—I mean I can't hit you. Could you stop turning round for a moment, because it muddles me rather?\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" said Eeyore. \"I like turning round.\"\n\nRabbit began to feel that it was time he took command.\n\n\"Now, Pooh,\" he said, \"when I say 'Now!' you can drop it. Eeyore, when I say 'Now!' Pooh will drop his stone.\"\n\n\"Thank you very much, Rabbit, but I expect I shall know.\"\n\n\"Are you ready, Pooh? Piglet, give Pooh a little more room. Get back a bit there, Roo. Are you ready?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Now!\" said Rabbit.\n\nPooh dropped his stone. There was a loud splash, and Eeyore disappeared….\n\nIt was an anxious moment for the watchers on the bridge. They looked and looked…and even the sight of Piglet's stick coming out a little in front of Rabbit's didn't cheer them up as much as you would have expected. And then, just as Pooh was beginning to think that he must have chosen the wrong stone or the wrong river or the wrong day for his Idea, something grey showed for a moment by the river bank…and it got slowly bigger and bigger…and at last it was Eeyore coming out.\n\nWith a shout they rushed off the bridge, and pushed and pulled at him; and soon he was standing among them again on dry land.\n\n\"Oh, Eeyore, you are wet!\" said Piglet, feeling him.\n\nEeyore shook himself, and asked somebody to explain to Piglet what happened when you had been inside a river for quite a long time.\n\n\"Well done, Pooh,\" said Rabbit kindly. \"That was a good idea of ours.\"\n\n\"What was?\" asked Eeyore.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Frequency requirement: 'rabbit' - 2 occurrence(s)",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hooshing you to the bank like that.\"\n\n\"Hooshing me?\" said Eeyore in surprise. \"Hooshing me? You didn't think I was hooshed, did you? I dived. Pooh dropped a large stone on me, and so as not to be struck heavily on the chest, I dived and swam to the bank.\"\n\n\"You didn't really,\" whispered Piglet to Pooh, so as to comfort him.\n\n\"I didn't think I did,\" said Pooh anxiously.\n\n\"It's just Eeyore,\" said Piglet. \"I thought your Idea was a very good Idea.\"\n\nPooh began to feel a little more comfortable, because when you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it. And, anyhow, Eeyore was in the river, and now he wasn't, so he hadn't done any harm.\n\n\"How did you fall in, Eeyore?\" asked Rabbit, as he dried him with Piglet's handkerchief.\n\n\"I didn't,\" said Eeyore.\n\nBut how—\"\n\n\"I was BOUNCED,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Oo,\" said Roo excitedly, \"did somebody push you?\"\n\n\"Somebody BOUNCED me. I was just thinking by the side of the river—thinking, if any of you know what that means, when I received a loud BOUNCE.\"\n\n\"Oh, Eeyore!\" said everybody.\n\n\"Are you sure you didn't slip?\" asked Rabbit wisely.\n\n\"Of course I slipped. If you're standing on the slippery bank of a river, and somebody BOUNCES you loudly from behind, you slip. What did you think I did?\"",
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"value": "\"But who did it?\" asked Roo.\n\nEeyore didn't answer.\n\n\"I expect it was Tigger,\" said Piglet nervously.\n\n\"But, Eeyore,\" said Pooh, \"was it a Joke, or an Accident? I mean—\"\n\n\"I didn't stop to ask, Pooh. Even at the very bottom of the river I didn't stop to say to myself, 'Is this a Hearty Joke, or is it the Merest Accident?' I just floated to the surface, and said to myself, 'It's wet.' If you know what I mean.\"\n\n\"And where was Tigger?\" asked Rabbit.\n\nBefore Eeyore could answer, there was a loud noise behind them, and through the hedge came Tigger himself.\n\n\"Hallo, everybody,\" said Tigger cheerfully.\n\n\"Hallo, Tigger,\" said Roo.\n\nRabbit became very important suddenly.\n\n\"Tigger,\" he said solemnly, \"what happened just now?\"\n\n\"Just when?\" said Tigger a little uncomfortably.\n\n\"When you bounced Eeyore into the river.\"\n\n\"I didn't bounce him.\"\n\n\"You bounced me,\" said Eeyore gruffly.\n\n\"I didn't really. I had a cough, and I happened to be behind Eeyore, and I said 'Grrrr—oppp—ptschschschz.'\"\n\n\"Why?\" said Rabbit, helping Piglet up, and dusting him. \"It's all right, Piglet.\"\n\n\"It took me by surprise,\" said Piglet nervously.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"That's what I call bouncing,\" said Eeyore.",
"loss": true
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Taking people by surprise. Very unpleasant habit. I don't mind Tigger being in the Forest,\" he went on, \"because it's a large Forest, and there's plenty of room to bounce in it. But I don't see why he should come into my little corner of it, and bounce there. It isn't as if there was anything very wonderful about my little corner. Of course for people who like cold, wet, ugly bits it is something rather special, but otherwise it's just a corner, and if anybody feels bouncy—\"\n\n\"I didn't bounce, I coughed,\" said Tigger crossly.\n\n\"Bouncy or coffy, it's all the same at the bottom of the river.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Rabbit, \"all I can say is—well, here's Christopher Robin, so he can say it.\"\n\nChristopher Robin came down from the Forest to the bridge, feeling all sunny and careless, and just as if twice nineteen didn't matter a bit, as it didn't on such a happy afternoon, and he thought that if he stood on the bottom rail of the bridge, and leant over, and watched the river slipping slowly away beneath him, then he would suddenly know everything that there was to be known, and he would be able to tell Pooh, who wasn't quite sure about some of it. But when he got to the bridge and saw all the animals there, then he knew that it wasn't that kind of afternoon, but the other kind, when you wanted to do something.\n\n\"It's like this, Christopher Robin,\" began Rabbit. \"Tigger—\"\n\n\"No, I didn't,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"Well, anyhow, there I was,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"But I don't think he meant to,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"He just is bouncy,\" said Piglet, \"and he can't help it.\"\n\n\"Try bouncing me, Tigger,\" said Roo eagerly. \"Eeyore, Tigger's going to try me. Piglet, do you think—\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said Rabbit, \"we don't all want to speak at once. The point is, what does Christopher Robin think about it?\"\n\n\"All I did was I coughed,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"He bounced,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Well, I sort of boffed,\" said Tigger.\n\n\"Hush!\" said Rabbit, holding up his paw. \"What does Christopher Robin think about it all? That's the point.\"",
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well,\" said Christopher Robin, not quite sure what it was all about, \"I think—\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 11 sentences.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes?\" said everybody.\n\n\"I think we all ought to play Poohsticks.\"\n\nSo they did. And Eeyore, who had never played it before, won more times than anybody else; and Roo fell in twice, the first time by accident and the second time on purpose, because he suddenly saw Kanga coming from the Forest, and he knew he'd have to go to bed anyhow. So then Rabbit said he'd go with them; and Tigger and Eeyore went off together, because Eeyore wanted to tell Tigger How to Win at Poohsticks, which you do by letting your stick drop in a twitchy sort of way, if you understand what I mean, Tigger; and Christopher Robin and Pooh and Piglet were left on the bridge by themselves.\n\nFor a long time they looked at the river beneath them, saying nothing, and the river said nothing too, for it felt very quiet and peaceful on this summer afternoon.\n\n\"Tigger is all right really,\" said Piglet lazily.\n\n\"Of course he is,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Everybody is really,\" said Pooh. \"That's what I think,\" said Pooh. \"But I don't suppose I'm right,\" he said. \"Of course you are,\" said Christopher Robin.",
"loss": true
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand with 88 sentences sentences, preserving any established world elements or character dynamics.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One day Rabbit and Piglet were sitting outside Pooh's front door listening to Rabbit, and Pooh was sitting with them. It was a drowsy summer afternoon, and the Forest was full of gentle sounds, which all seemed to be saying to Pooh, \"Don't listen to Rabbit, listen to me.\" So he got into a comfortable position for not listening to Rabbit, and from time to time he opened his eyes to say \"Ah!\" and then closed them again to say \"True,\" and from time to time Rabbit said, \"You see what I mean, Piglet,\" very earnestly, and Piglet nodded earnestly to show that he did.\n\n\"In fact,\" said Rabbit, coming to the end of it at last, \"Tigger's getting so Bouncy nowadays that it's time we taught him a lesson. Don't you think so, Piglet?\"\n\nPiglet said that Tigger was very Bouncy, and that if they could think of a way of unbouncing him, it would be a Very Good Idea.\n\n\"Just what I feel,\" said Rabbit. \"What do you say, Pooh?\"\n\nPooh opened his eyes with a jerk and said, \"Extremely.\"\n\n\"Extremely what?\" asked Rabbit.\n\n\"What you were saying,\" said Pooh. \"Undoubtably.\"\n\nPiglet gave Pooh a stiffening sort of nudge, and Pooh, who felt more and more that he was somewhere else, got up slowly and began to look for himself.\n\n\"But how shall we do it?\" asked Piglet. \"What sort of a lesson, Rabbit?\"\n\n\"That's the point,\" said Rabbit.\n\nThe word \"lesson\" came back to Pooh as one he had heard before somewhere.\n\n\"There's a thing called Twy-stymes,\" he said. \"Christopher Robin tried to teach it to me once, but it didn't.\"\n\n\"What didn't?\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"Didn't what?\" said Piglet.\n\nPooh shook his head.\n\n\"I don't know,\" he said. \"It just didn't. What are we talking about?\"\n\n\"Pooh,\" said Piglet reproachfully, \"haven't you been listening to what Rabbit was saying?\"\n\n\"I listened, but I had a small piece of fluff in my ear. Could you say it again, please, Rabbit?\"\n\nRabbit never minded saying things again, so he asked where he should begin from; and when Pooh had said from the moment when the fluff got in his ear, and Rabbit had asked when that was, and Pooh had said he didn't know because he hadn't heard properly, Piglet settled it all by saying that what they were trying to do was, they were just trying to think of a way to get the bounces out of Tigger, because however much you liked him, you couldn't deny it, he did bounce.\n\n\"Oh, I see,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"There's too much of him,\" said Rabbit, \"that's what it comes to.\"\n\nPooh tried to think, and all he could think of was something which didn't help at all. So he hummed it very quietly to himself.\n\nIf Rabbit\n\nWas bigger\n\nAnd fatter\n\nAnd stronger,\n\nOr bigger\n\nThan Tigger,\n\nIf Tigger was smaller,\n\nThen Tigger's bad habit\n\nOf bouncing at Rabbit\n\nWould matter\n\nNo longer,\n\nIf Rabbit\n\nWas taller.\n\n\"What was Pooh saying?\" asked Rabbit. \"Any good?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh sadly. \"No good.\"\n\n\"Well, I've got an idea,\" said Rabbit, \"and here it is. We take Tigger for a long explore, somewhere where he's never been, and we lose him there, and next morning we find him again, and—mark my words—he'll be a different Tigger altogether.\"\n\n\"Why?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Because he'll be a Humble Tigger. Because he'll be a Sad Tigger, a Melancholy Tigger, a Small and Sorry Tigger, and Oh-Rabbit-I-am-glad-to-see-you Tigger. That's why.\"\n\n\"Will he be glad to see me and Piglet, too?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"That's good,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"I should hate him to go on being Sad,\" said Piglet doubtfully.\n\n\"Tiggers never go on being Sad,\" explained Rabbit. \"They get over it with Astonishing Rapidity. I asked Owl, just to make sure, and he said that that's what they always get over it with. But if we can make Tigger feel Small and Sad just for five minutes, we shall have done a good deed.\"\n\n\"Would Christopher Robin think so?\" asked Piglet.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Rabbit. \"He'd say 'You've done a good deed, Piglet. I would have done it myself, only I happened to be doing something else. Thank you, Piglet.' And Pooh, of course.\"\n\nPiglet felt very glad about this, and he saw at once that what they were going to do to Tigger was a good thing to do, and as Pooh and Rabbit were doing it with him, it was a thing which even a Very Small Animal could wake up in the morning and be comfortable about doing. So the only question was, where should they lose Tigger?\n\n\"We'll take him to the North Pole,\" said Rabbit, \"because it was a very long explore finding it, so it will be a very long explore for Tigger unfinding it again.\"\n\nIt was now Pooh's turn to feel very glad, because it was he who had first found the North Pole, and when they got there, Tigger would see a notice which said, \"Discovered by Pooh, Pooh found it,\" and then Tigger would know, which perhaps he didn't know, the sort of Bear Pooh was. That sort of Bear.\n\nSo it was arranged that they should start next morning, and that Rabbit, who lived near Kanga and Roo and Tigger, should now go home and ask Tigger what he was doing tomorrow, because if he wasn't doing anything, what about coming for an explore and getting Pooh and Piglet to come too? And if Tigger said \"Yes\" that would be all right, and if he said \"No\"—\n\n\"He won't,\" said Rabbit. \"Leave it to me.\" And he went off busily.\n\nThe next day was quite a different day. Instead of being hot and sunny, it was cold and misty. Pooh didn't mind for himself, but when he thought of all the honey the bees wouldn't be making, a cold and misty day always made him feel sorry for them. He said so to Piglet when Piglet came to fetch him, and Piglet said that he wasn't thinking of that so much, but of how cold and miserable it would be being lost all day and night on the top of the Forest. But when he and Pooh had got to Rabbit's house, Rabbit said it was just the day for them, because Tigger always bounced on ahead of everybody, and as soon as he got out of sight, they would hurry away in the other direction, and he would never see them again.\n\n\"Not never?\" said Piglet.\n\n\"Well, not until we find him again, Piglet. Tomorrow, or whenever it is. Come on. He's waiting for us.\"\n\nWhen they got to Kanga's house, they found that Roo was waiting too, being a great friend of Tigger's, which made it Awkward; but Rabbit whispered \"Leave this to me\" behind his paw to Pooh, and went up to Kanga.\n\n\"I don't think Roo had better come,\" he said. \"Not today.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" said Roo, who wasn't supposed to be listening.\n\n\"Nasty cold day,\" said Rabbit, shaking his head. \"And you were coughing this morning.\"\n\n\"How do you know?\" asked Roo indignantly.\n\n\"Oh, Roo, you never told me,\" said Kanga reproachfully.\n\n\"It was a Biscuit Cough,\" said Roo, \"not one you tell about.\"\n\n\"I think not today, dear. Another day.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow?\" said Roo hopefully.\n\n\"We'll see,\" said Kanga.\n\n\"You're always seeing, and nothing ever happens,\" said Roo sadly.\n\n\"Nobody could see on a day like this, Roo,\" said Rabbit. \"I don't expect we shall get very far, and then this afternoon we'll all—we'll all—we'll—ah, Tigger, there you are. Come on. Good-bye, Roo! This afternoon we'll—come on, Pooh! All ready? That's right. Come on.\"",
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"from": "human",
"value": "So they went. At first Pooh and Rabbit and Piglet walked together, and Tigger ran round them in circles, and then, when the path got narrower, Rabbit, Piglet and Pooh walked one after another, and Tigger ran round them in oblongs, and by-and-by, when the gorse got very prickly on each side of the path, Tigger ran up and down in front of them, and sometimes he bounced into Rabbit and sometimes he didn't.",
"loss": true
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"value": "And as they got higher, the mist got thicker, so that Tigger kept disappearing, and then when you thought he wasn't there, there he was again, saying \"I say, come on,\" and before you could say anything, there he wasn't.\n\nRabbit turned round and nudged Piglet.\n\n\"The next time,\" he said. \"Tell Pooh.\"\n\n\"The next time,\" said Piglet to Pooh.\n\n\"The next what?\" said Pooh to Piglet.\n\nTigger appeared suddenly, bounced into Rabbit, and disappeared again. \"Now!\" said Rabbit. He jumped into a hollow by the side of the path, and Pooh and Piglet jumped after him. They crouched in the bracken, listening. The Forest was very silent when you stopped and listened to it. They could see nothing and hear nothing.\n\n\"H'sh!\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"I am,\" said Pooh.\n\nThere was a pattering noise…then silence again. \"Hallo!\" said Tigger, and he sounded so close suddenly that Piglet would have jumped if Pooh hadn't accidentally been sitting on most of him.\n\n\"Where are you?\" called Tigger.\n\nRabbit nudged Pooh, and Pooh looked about for Piglet to nudge, but couldn't find him, and Piglet went on breathing wet bracken as quietly as he could, and felt very brave and excited.\n\n\"That's funny,\" said Tigger.\n\nThere was a moment's silence, and then they heard him pattering off again. For a little longer they waited, until the Forest had become so still that it almost frightened them, and then Rabbit got up and stretched himself.\n\n\"Well?\" he whispered proudly. \"There we are! Just as I said.\"\n\n\"I've been thinking,\" said Pooh, \"and I think——\"\n\n\"No,\" said Rabbit. \"Don't. Run. Come on.\" And they all hurried off, Rabbit leading the way.\n\n\"Now,\" said Rabbit, after they had gone a little way, \"we can talk. What were you going to say, Pooh?\"\n\n\"Nothing much. Why are we going along here?\"\n\n\"Because it's the way home.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Pooh.\n\n\"I think it's more to the right,\" said Piglet nervously. \"What do you think, Pooh?\"\n\nPooh looked at his two paws. He knew that one of them was the right, and he knew that when you had decided which one of them was the right, then the other one was the left, but he never could remember how to begin.\n\n\"Well,\" he said slowly—\n\n\"Come on,\" said Rabbit. \"I know it's this way.\"\n\nThey went on. Ten minutes later they stopped again.\n\n\"It's very silly,\" said Rabbit, \"but just for the moment I—Ah, of course. Come on….\"\n\n\"Here we are,\" said Rabbit ten minutes later. \"No, we're not….\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Rabbit ten minutes later, \"I think we ought to be getting—or are we a little bit more to the right than I thought?…\"\n\n\"It's a funny thing,\" said Rabbit ten minutes later, \"how everything looks the same in a mist. Have you noticed it, Pooh?\"\n\nPooh said that he had.\n\n\"Lucky we know the Forest so well, or we might get lost,\" said Rabbit half an hour later, and he gave the careless laugh which you give when you know the Forest so well that you can't get lost.\n\nPiglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.\n\n\"Pooh!\" he whispered.\n\n\"Yes, Piglet?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. \"I just wanted to be sure of you.\"\n\nWhen Tigger had finished waiting for the others to catch him up, and they hadn't, and when he had got tired of having nobody to say, \"I say, come on\" to, he thought he would go home. So he trotted back; and the first thing Kanga said when she saw him was \"There's a good Tigger. You're just in time for your Strengthening Medicine,\" and she poured it out for him. Roo said proudly, \"I've had mine,\" and Tigger swallowed his and said, \"So have I,\" and then he and Roo pushed each other about in a friendly way, and Tigger accidentally knocked over one or two chairs by accident, and Roo accidentally knocked over one on purpose, and Kanga said, \"Now then, run along.\"\n\n\"Where shall we run along to?\" asked Roo.\n\n\"You can go and collect some fir-cones for me,\" said Kanga, giving them a basket.\n\nSo they went to the Six Pine Trees, and threw fir-cones at each other until they had forgotten what they came for, and they left the basket under the trees and went back to dinner. And it was just as they were finishing dinner that Christopher Robin put his head in at the door.\n\n\"Where's Pooh?\" he asked.\n\n\"Tigger dear, where's Pooh?\" said Kanga. Tigger explained what had happened at the same time that Roo was explaining about his Biscuit Cough and Kanga was telling them not both to talk at once, so it was some time before Christopher Robin guessed that Pooh and Piglet and Rabbit were all lost in the mist on the top of the Forest.\n\n\"It's a funny thing about Tiggers,\" whispered Tigger to Roo, \"how Tiggers never get lost.\"\n\n\"Why don't they, Tigger?\"\n\n\"They just don't,\" explained Tigger. \"That's how it is.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Christopher Robin, \"we shall have to go and find them, that's all. Come on, Tigger.\"\n\n\"I shall have to go and find them,\" explained Tigger to Roo.\n\n\"May I find them too?\" asked Roo eagerly.\n\n\"I think not today, dear,\" said Kanga. \"Another day.\"\n\n\"Well, if they're lost tomorrow, may I find them?\"\n\n\"We'll see,\" said Kanga, and Roo, who knew what that meant, went into a corner, and practised jumping out at himself, partly because he wanted to practise this, and partly because he didn't want Christopher Robin and Tigger to think that he minded when they went off without him.\n\n\"The fact is,\" said Rabbit, \"we've missed our way somehow.\"\n\nThey were having a rest in a small sand-pit on the top of the Forest. Pooh was getting rather tired of that sand-pit, and suspected it of following them about, because whichever direction they started in, they always ended up at it, and each time, as it came through the mist at them, Rabbit said triumphantly, \"Now I know where we are!\" and Pooh said sadly, \"So do I,\" and Piglet said nothing. He had tried to think of something to say, but the only thing he could think of was, \"Help, help!\" and it seemed silly to say that, when he had Pooh and Rabbit with him.\n\n\"Well,\" said Rabbit, after a long silence in which nobody thanked him for the nice walk they were having, \"we'd better get on, I suppose. Which way shall we try?\"\n\n\"How would it be,\" said Pooh slowly, \"if, as soon as we're out of sight of this Pit, we try to find it again?\"\n\n\"What's the good of that?\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"we keep looking for Home and not finding it, so I thought that if we looked for this Pit, we'd be sure not to find it, which would be a Good Thing, because then we might find something that we weren't looking for, which might be just what we were looking for, really.\"\n\n\"I don't see much sense in that,\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh humbly, \"there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it. It's just that something happened to it on the way.\"\n\n\"If I walked away from this Pit, and then walked back to it, of course I should find it.\"\n\n\"Well, I thought perhaps you wouldn't,\" said Pooh. \"I just thought.\"\n\n\"Try,\" said Piglet suddenly. \"We'll wait here for you.\"\n\nRabbit gave a laugh to show how silly Piglet was, and walked into the mist. After he had gone a hundred yards, he turned and walked back again…and after Pooh and Piglet had waited twenty minutes for him, Pooh got up.\n\n\"I just thought,\" said Pooh. \"Now then, Piglet, let's go home.\"\n\n\"But, Pooh,\" cried Piglet, all excited, \"do you know the way?\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" said Pooh. \"But there are twelve pots of honey in my cupboard, and they've been calling to me for hours. I couldn't hear them properly before, because Rabbit would talk, but if nobody says anything except those twelve pots, I think, Piglet, I shall know where they're calling from. Come on.\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 13 sentences.",
"loss": null
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "They walked off together; and for a long time Piglet said nothing, so as not to interrupt the pots; and then suddenly he made a squeaky noise…and an oo-noise…because now he began to know where he was; but he still didn't dare to say so out loud, in case he wasn't. And just when he was getting so sure of himself that it didn't matter whether the pots went on calling or not, there was a shout from in front of them, and out of the mist came Christopher Robin.\n\n\"Oh, there you are,\" said Christopher Robin carelessly, trying to pretend that he hadn't been Anxious.\n\n\"Here we are,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Where's Rabbit?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Oh—well, I expect Tigger will find him. He's sort of looking for you all.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"I've got to go home for something, and so has Piglet, because we haven't had it yet, and—\"\n\n\"I'll come and watch you,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\nSo he went home with Pooh, and watched him for quite a long time…and all the time he was watching, Tigger was tearing round the Forest making loud yapping noises for Rabbit. And at last a very Small and Sorry Rabbit heard him. And the Small and Sorry Rabbit rushed through the mist at the noise, and it suddenly turned into Tigger; a Friendly Tigger, a Grand Tigger, a Large and Helpful Tigger, a Tigger who bounced, if he bounced at all, in just the beautiful way a Tigger ought to bounce.\n\n\"Oh, Tigger, I am glad to see you,\" cried Rabbit.",
"loss": null
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Continuing from this story fragment where characters are established. Write forty sentences sentences in A. A. Milne's style. Genres: children's, fantasy. Elements: Winnie-the-Pooh",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Half way between Pooh's house and Piglet's house was a Thoughtful Spot where they met sometimes when they had decided to go and see each other, and as it was warm and out of the wind they would sit down there for a little and wonder what they would do now that they had seen each other. One day when they had decided not to do anything, Pooh made up a verse about it, so that everybody should know what the place was for.\n\nThis warm and sunny Spot\n\nBelongs to Pooh.\n\nAnd here he wonders what\n\nHe's going to do.\n\nOh, bother, I forgot—\n\nIt's Piglet's too.\n\nNow one autumn morning when the wind had blown all the leaves off the trees in the night, and was trying to blow the branches off, Pooh and Piglet were sitting in the Thoughtful Spot and wondering.\n\n\"What I think,\" said Pooh, \"is I think we'll go to Pooh Corner and see Eeyore, because perhaps his house has been blown down, and perhaps he'd like us to build it again.\"\n\n\"What I think,\" said Piglet, \"is I think we'll go and see Christopher Robin, only he won't be there, so we can't.\"\n\n\"Let's go and see everybody,\" said Pooh. \"Because when you've been walking in the wind for miles, and you suddenly go into somebody's house, and he says, 'Hallo, Pooh, you're just in time for a little smackerel of something,' and you are, then it's what I call a Friendly Day.\"\n\nPiglet thought that they ought to have a Reason for going to see everybody, like Looking for Small or Organizing an Expotition, if Pooh could think of something.\n\nPooh could.\n\n\"We'll go because it's Thursday,\" he said, \"and we'll go to wish everybody a Very Happy Thursday. Come on, Piglet.\"\n\nThey got up; and when Piglet had sat down again, because he didn't know the wind was so strong, and had been helped up by Pooh, they started off. They went to Pooh's house first, and luckily Pooh was at home just as they got there, so he asked them in, and they had some, and then they went on to Kanga's house, holding on to each other, and shouting \"Isn't it?\" and \"What?\" and \"I can't hear.\" By the time they got to Kanga's house they were so buffeted that they stayed to lunch. Just at first it seemed rather cold outside afterwards, so they pushed on to Rabbit's as quickly as they could.\n\n\"We've come to wish you a Very Happy Thursday,\" said Pooh, when he had gone in and out once or twice just to make sure that he could get out again.\n\n\"Why, what's going to happen on Thursday?\" asked Rabbit, and when Pooh had explained, and Rabbit, whose life was made up of Important Things, said, \"Oh, I thought you'd really come about something,\" they sat down for a little…and by-and-by Pooh and Piglet went on again. The wind was behind them now, so they didn't have to shout.\n\n\"Rabbit's clever,\" said Pooh thoughtfully.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Piglet, \"Rabbit's clever.\"\n\n\"And he has Brain.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Piglet, \"Rabbit has Brain.\"\n\nThere was a long silence.\n\n\"I suppose,\" said Pooh, \"that that's why he never understands anything.\"\n\nChristopher Robin was at home by this time, because it was the afternoon, and he was so glad to see them that they stayed there until very nearly tea-time, and then they had a Very Nearly tea, which is one you forget about afterwards, and hurried on to Pooh Corner, so as to see Eeyore before it was too late to have a Proper Tea with Owl.\n\n\"Hallo, Eeyore,\" they called out cheerfully.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Eeyore. \"Lost your way?\"\n\n\"We just came to see you,\" said Piglet. \"And to see how your house was. Look, Pooh, it's still standing!\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Eeyore. \"Very odd. Somebody ought to have come down and pushed it over.\"\n\n\"We wondered whether the wind would blow it down,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Ah, that's why nobody's bothered, I suppose. I thought perhaps they'd forgotten.\"",
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"value": "\"Well, we're very glad to see you, Eeyore, and now we're going on to see Owl.\"",
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"value": "\"That's right. You'll like Owl. He flew past a day or two ago and noticed me. He didn't actually say anything, mind you, but he knew it was me. Very friendly of him, I thought. Encouraging.\"\n\nPooh and Piglet shuffled about a little and said, \"Well, good-bye, Eeyore,\" as lingeringly as they could, but they had a long way to go, and wanted to be getting on.\n\n\"Good-bye,\" said Eeyore. \"Mind you don't get blown away, little Piglet. You'd be missed. People would say 'Where's little Piglet been blown to? '—really wanting to know. Well, good-bye. And thank you for happening to pass me.\"\n\n\"Good-bye,\" said Pooh and Piglet for the last time, and they pushed on to Owl's house.\n\nThe wind was against them now, and Piglet's ears streamed behind him like banners as he fought his way along, and it seemed hours before he got them into the shelter of the Hundred Acre Wood and they stood up straight again, to listen, a little nervously, to the roaring of the gale among the tree-tops.\n\n\"Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?\"\n\n\"Supposing it didn't,\" said Pooh after careful thought.\n\nPiglet was comforted by this, and in a little while they were knocking and ringing very cheerfully at Owl's door.\n\n\"Hallo, Owl,\" said Pooh. \"I hope we're not too late for—I mean, how are you, Owl? Piglet and I just came to see how you were, because it's Thursday.\"\n\n\"Sit down, Pooh, sit down, Piglet,\" said Owl kindly. \"Make yourselves comfortable.\"\n\nThey thanked him, and made themselves as comfortable as they could.\n\n\"Because, you see, Owl,\" said Pooh, \"we've been hurrying, so as to be in time for—so as to see you before we went away again.\"\n\nOwl nodded solemnly.\n\n\"Correct me if I am wrong,\" he said, \"but am I right in supposing that it is a very Blusterous day outside?\"\n\n\"Very,\" said Piglet, who was quietly thawing his ears, and wishing that he was safely back in his own house.\n\n\"I thought so,\" said Owl. \"It was on just such a blusterous day as this that my Uncle Robert, a portrait of whom you see upon the wall on your right, Piglet, while returning in the late forenoon from a—What's that?\"\n\nThere was a loud cracking noise.\n\n\"Look out!\" cried Pooh. \"Mind the clock! Out of the way, Piglet! Piglet, I'm falling on you!\"\n\n\"Help!\" cried Piglet.\n\nPooh's side of the room was slowly tilting upwards and his chair began sliding down on Piglet's. The clock slithered gently along the mantelpiece, collecting vases on the way, until they all crashed together on to what had once been the floor, but was now trying to see what it looked like as a wall. Uncle Robert, who was going to be the new hearthrug, and was bringing the rest of his wall with him as carpet, met Piglet's chair just as Piglet was expecting to leave it, and for a little while it became very difficult to remember which was really the north. Then there was another loud crack…Owl's room collected itself feverishly…and there was silence.\n\nIn a corner of the room, the tablecloth began to wriggle.\n\nThen it wrapped itself into a ball and rolled across the room.\n\nThen it jumped up and down once or twice, and put out two ears. It rolled across the room again, and unwound itself.\n\n\"Pooh,\" said Piglet nervously.\n\n\"Yes?\" said one of the chairs.\n\n\"Where are we?\"\n\n\"I'm not quite sure,\" said the chair.\n\n\"Are we—are we in Owl's House?\"\n\n\"I think so, because we were just going to have tea, and we hadn't had it.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Piglet. \"Well, did Owl always have a letterbox in his ceiling?\"\n\n\"Has he?\"\n\n\"Yes, look.\"",
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"value": "\"I can't,\" said Pooh. \"I'm face downwards under something, and that, Piglet, is a very bad position for looking at ceilings.\"\n\n\"Well, he has, Pooh.\"\n\n\"Perhaps he's changed it,\" said Pooh. \"Just for a change.\"\n\nThere was a disturbance behind the table in the other corner of the room, and Owl was with them again.\n\n\"Ah, Piglet,\" said Owl, looking very much annoyed, \"where's Pooh?\"\n\n\"I'm not quite sure,\" said Pooh.\n\nOwl turned at his voice, and frowned at as much of Pooh as he could see.\n\n\"Pooh,\" said Owl severely, \"did you do that?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh humbly. \"I don't think so.\"\n\n\"Then who did?\"\n\n\"I think it was the wind,\" said Piglet. \"I think your house has blown down.\"\n\n\"Oh, is that it? I thought it was Pooh.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"If it was the wind,\" said Owl, considering the matter, \"then it wasn't Pooh's fault. No blame can be attached to him.\" With these kind words he flew up to look at his new ceiling.\n\n\"Piglet!\" called Pooh in a loud whisper.\n\nPiglet leant down to him.\n\n\"Yes, Pooh?\"\n\n\"What did he say was attached to me?\"\n\n\"He said he didn't blame you.\"\n\n\"Oh! I thought he meant—Oh, I see.\"\n\n\"Owl!\" said Piglet, \"come down and help Pooh.\"\n\nOwl, who was admiring his letterbox, flew down again. Together they pushed and pulled at the armchair, and in a little while Pooh came out from underneath, and was able to look round him again.\n\n\"Well!\" said Owl. \"This is a nice state of things!\"\n\n\"What are we going to do, Pooh? Can you think of anything?\" asked Piglet.\n\n\"Well, I had just thought of something,\" said Pooh. \"It was just a little thing I thought of.\" And he began to sing:\n\nI lay on my chest\n\nAnd I thought it best\n\nTo pretend I was having an evening rest;\n\nI lay on my tum\n\nAnd I tried to hum\n\nBut nothing particular seemed to come.",
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"value": "My face was flat",
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"value": "On the floor, and that",
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"from": "human",
"value": "Is all very well for an acrobat;",
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"value": "But it doesn't seem fair\n\nTo a Friendly Bear\n\nTo stiffen him out with a basket-chair.\n\nAnd a sort of squch\n\nWhich grows and grows\n\nIs not too nice for his poor old nose,\n\nAnd a sort of squch\n\nIs much too much\n\nFor his neck and his mouth\n\nand his ears and such.\n\n\"That was all,\" said Pooh.\n\nOwl coughed in an unadmiring sort of way, and said that, if Pooh was sure that was all, they could now give their minds to the Problem of Escape.\n\n\"Because,\" said Owl, \"we can't go out by what used to be the front door. Something's fallen on it.\"\n\n\"But how else can you go out?\" asked Piglet anxiously.\n\n\"That is the Problem, Piglet, to which I am asking Pooh to give his mind.\"\n\nPooh sat on the floor which had once been a wall, and gazed up at the ceiling which had once been another wall, with a front door in it which had once been a front door, and tried to give his mind to it.\n\n\"Could you fly up to the letterbox with Piglet on your back?\" he asked.\n\n\"No,\" said Piglet quickly. \"He couldn't.\"\n\nOwl explained about the Necessary Dorsal Muscles. He had explained this to Pooh and Christopher Robin once before, and had been waiting ever since for a chance to do it again, because it is a thing which you can easily explain twice before anybody knows what you are talking about.\n\n\"Because you see, Owl, if we could get Piglet into the letterbox, he might squeeze through the place where the letters come, and climb down the tree and run for help.\"\n\nPiglet said hurriedly that he had been getting bigger lately, and couldn't possibly, much as he would like to, and Owl said that he had had his letterbox made bigger lately in case he got bigger letters, so perhaps Piglet might, and Piglet said, \"But you said the necessary you-know-whats wouldn't,\" and Owl said, \"No, they won't, so it's no good thinking about it,\" and Piglet said, \"Then we'd better think of something else,\" and began to at once.\n\nBut Pooh's mind had gone back to the day when he had saved Piglet from the flood, and everybody had admired him so much; and as that didn't often happen he thought he would like it to happen again. And suddenly, just as it had come before, an idea came to him.\n\n\"Owl,\" said Pooh, \"I have thought of something.\"\n\n\"Astute and Helpful Bear,\" said Owl.\n\nPooh looked proud at being called a stout and helpful bear, and said modestly that he just happened to think of it. You tied a piece of string to Piglet, and you flew up to the letterbox with the other end in your beak, and you pushed it through the wire and brought it down to the floor, and you and Pooh pulled hard at this end, and Piglet went slowly up at the other end. And there you were.\n\n\"And there Piglet is,\" said Owl. \"If the string doesn't break.\"\n\n\"Supposing it does?\" asked Piglet, wanting to know.\n\n\"Then we try another piece of string.\"\n\nThis was not very comforting to Piglet, because however many pieces of string they tried pulling up with, it would always be the same him coming down; but still, it did seem the only thing to do. So with one last look back in his mind at all the happy hours he had spent in the Forest not being pulled up to the ceiling by a piece of string, Piglet nodded bravely at Pooh and said that it was a Very Clever pup-pup-pup Clever pup-pup Plan.\n\n\"It won't break,\" whispered Pooh comfortingly, \"because you're a Small Animal, and I'll stand underneath, and if you save us all, it will be a Very Grand Thing to talk about afterwards, and perhaps I'll make up a Song, and people will say 'It was so grand what Piglet did that a Respectful Pooh Song was made about it.'\"\n\nPiglet felt much better after this, and when everything was ready, and he found himself slowly going up to the ceiling, he was so proud that he would have called out \"Look at me!\" if he hadn't been afraid that Pooh and Owl would let go of their end of the string and look at him.\n\n\"Up we go!\" said Pooh cheerfully.\n\n\"The ascent is proceeding as expected,\" said Owl helpfully.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Soon it was over.",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 10 sentences.",
"loss": null
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"from": "human",
"value": "meta: Just for the next message: aim for 53% quoted content",
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"value": "Piglet opened the letterbox and climbed in. Then, having untied himself, he began to squeeze into the slit, through which in the old days when front doors were front doors, many an unexpected letter that WOL had written to himself, had come slipping.\n\nHe squeezed and he squoze, and then with one last sqooze he was out. Happy and excited he turned round to squeak a last message to the prisoners.\n\n\"It's all right,\" he called through the letterbox. \"Your tree is blown right over, Owl, and there's a branch across the door, but Christopher Robin and I can move it, and we'll bring a rope for Pooh, and I'll go and tell him now, and I can climb down quite easily, I mean it's dangerous but I can do it all right, and Christopher Robin and I will be back in about half-an-hour. Good-bye, Pooh!\" And without waiting to hear Pooh's answering \"Good-bye, and thank you, Piglet,\" he was off.\n\n\"Half-an-hour,\" said Owl, settling himself comfortably. \"That will just give me time to finish that story I was telling you about my Uncle Robert—a portrait of whom you see underneath you. Now let me see, where was I? Oh, yes. It was on just such a blusterous day as this that my Uncle Robert—\"\n\nPooh closed his eyes.",
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Expand narrative with 65 sentences. Maintain character/world familiarity. Genres: children's, fantasy. Elements: Winnie-the-Pooh.",
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"from": "human",
"value": "Pooh had wandered into the Hundred Acre Wood, and was standing in front of what had once been Owl's House.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "It didn't look at all like a house now; it looked like a tree which had been blown down; and as soon as a house looks like that, it is time you tried to find another one.",
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"from": "human",
"value": "Pooh had had a Mysterious Missage underneath his front door that morning, saying, \"I AM SCERCHING FOR A NEW HOUSE FOR OWL SO HAD YOU RABBIT,\" and while he was wondering what it meant, Rabbit had come in and read it for him.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm leaving one for all the others,\" said Rabbit, \"and telling them what it means, and they'll all search too. I'm in a hurry, good-bye.\"",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "And he had run off.\n\nPooh followed slowly. He had something better to do than to find a new house for Owl; he had to make up a Pooh song about the old one. Because he had promised Piglet days and days ago that he would, and whenever he and Piglet had met since, Piglet didn't actually say anything, but you knew at once why he didn't; and if anybody mentioned Hums or Trees or String or Storms-in-the-Night, Piglet's nose went all pink at the tip and he talked about something quite different in a hurried sort of way.\n\n\"But it isn't Easy,\" said Pooh to himself, as he looked at what had once been Owl's House. \"Because Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. And all you can do is to go where they can find you.\"\n\nHe waited hopefully….\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh after a long wait, \"I shall begin 'Here lies a tree' because it does, and then I'll see what happens.\"\n\nThis is what happened.\n\nHere lies a tree which Owl (a bird)\n\nWas fond of when it stood on end,\n\nAnd Owl was talking to a friend\n\nCalled Me (in case you hadn't heard)\n\nWhen something Oo occurred.\n\nFor lo! the wind was blusterous\n\nAnd flattened out his favourite tree;\n\nAnd things looks bad for him and we—\n\nLooked bad, I mean, for he and us—\n\nI've never known them wuss.\n\nThen Piglet (PIGLET) thought a thing:\n\n\"Courage!\" he said. \"There's always hope.\n\nI want a thinnish piece of rope.\n\nOr, if there isn)t any bring\n\nA thickish piece of string.\"\n\nSo to the letterbox he rose,\n\nWhile Pooh and Owl said \"Oh!\" and \"Hum!\"\n\nAnd where the letters always come\n\n(Called \"LETTERS ONLY\") Piglet sqooze\n\nHis head and then his toes.\n\nO gallant Piglet (PIGLET)! Ho!\n\nDid Piglet tremble? Did he blinch?\n\nNo, No, he struggled inch by inch\n\nThrough LETTERS ONLY, as I know\n\nBecause I saw him go.\n\nHe ran and ran, and then he stood\n\nAnd shouted, \"Help for Owl, a bird\n\nAnd Pooh, a bear!\" until he heard\n\nThe others coming through the wood\n\nAs quickly as they could.\n\n\"Help-help and Rescue!\" Piglet cried\n\nAnd showed the others where to go.\n\nSing ho! for Piglet (PIGLET) ho!\n\nAnd soon the door was opened wide\n\nAnd we were both outside!\n\nSing ho! for Piglet, ho!\n\nHo!\n\n\"So there it is,\" said Pooh, when he had sung this to himself three times. \"It's come different from what I thought it would, but it's come. Now I must go and sing it to Piglet.\"\n\nI AM SCERCHING FOR A NEW HOUSE FOR OWL SO HAD YOU RABBIT.\n\n\"What's all this?\" said Eeyore.\n\nRabbit explained.\n\n\"What's the matter with his old house?\" asked Eeyore.\n\nRabbit explained.\n\n\"Nobody tells me,\" said Eeyore. \"Nobody keeps me Informed. I make it seventeen days come Friday since anybody spoke to me.\"\n\n\"It certainly isn't seventeen days—\"\n\n\"Come Friday,\" explained Eeyore.\n\n\"And today's Saturday,\" said Rabbit. \"So that would make it eleven days. And I was here myself a week ago.\"\n\n\"Not conversing,\" said Eeyore. \"Not first one and then the other. You said 'Hallo' and Flashed Past. I saw your tail in the distance as I was meditating my reply. I had thought of saying 'What? '—but, of course, it was then too late.\"\n\n\"Well, I was in a hurry.\"\n\n\"No Give and Take,\" Eeyore went on. \"No Exchange of Thought: 'Hallo—What\"—I mean, it gets you nowhere, particularly if the other person's tail is only just in sight for the second half of the conversation.\"\n\n\"It's your fault, Eeyore. You've never been to see any of us. You just stay here in this one corner of the Forest waiting for the others to come to you. Why don't you go to them sometimes?\"\n\nEeyore was silent for a little while, thinking.\n\n\"There may be something in what you say, Rabbit,\" he said at last.",
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"value": "\"I must move about more. I must come and go.\"\n\n\"That's right, Eeyore. Drop in on any of us at any time, when you feel like it.\"\n\n\"Thank-you, Rabbit. And if anybody says in a Loud Voice 'Bother, it's Eeyore,' I can drop out again.\"\n\nRabbit stood on one leg for a moment.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, \"I must be going.\"\n\n\"Good-bye,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"What? Oh, good-bye. And if you do come across a house for Owl, you must let us know.\"\n\n\"I will give my mind to it,\" said Eeyore.\n\nRabbit went.\n\nPooh had found Piglet, and they were walking back to the Hundred Acre Wood together.\n\n\"Piglet,\" said Pooh a little shyly, after they had walked for some time without saying anything.\n\n\"Yes, Pooh?\"\n\n\"Do you remember when I said that a Respectful Pooh Song might be written about You Know What?\"\n\n\"Did you, Pooh?\" said Piglet, getting a little pink round the nose. \"Oh, yes, I believe you did.\"\n\n\"It's been written, Piglet.\"\n\nThe pink went slowly up Piglet's nose to his ears, and settled there.\n\n\"Has it, Pooh?\" he asked huskily. \"About—about —That Time When?—Do you mean really written?\"\n\n\"Yes, Piglet.\"\n\nThe tips of Piglet's ears glowed suddenly, and he tried to say something; but even after he had husked once or twice, nothing came out. So Pooh went on.\n\n\"There are seven verses in it.\"\n\n\"Seven?\" said Piglet as carelessly as he could. \"You don't often get seven verses in a Hum, do you, Pooh?\"\n\n\"Never,\" said Pooh. \"I don't suppose it's ever been heard of before.\"\n\n\"Do the Others know yet?\" asked Piglet, stopping for a moment to pick up a stick and throw it away.\n\n\"No,\" said Pooh. \"And I wondered which you would like best. For me to hum it now, or to wait till we find the others, and then hum it to all of you.\"\n\nPiglet thought for a little.\n\n\"I think what I'd like best, Pooh, is I'd like you to hum it to me now—and—and then to hum it to all of us. Because then Everybody would hear it, but I could say 'Oh, yes, Pooh's told me,' and pretend not to be listening.\"\n\nSo Pooh hummed it to him, all the seven verses and Piglet said nothing, but just stood and glowed.\n\nNever before had anyone sung ho for Piglet (PIGLET) ho all by himself. When it was over, he wanted to ask for one of the verses over again, but didn't quite like to. It was the verse beginning \"O gallant Piglet,\" and it seemed to him a very thoughtful way of beginning a piece of poetry.\n\n\"Did I really do all that?\" he said at last.\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"in poetry—in a piece of poetry—well, you did it, Piglet, because the poetry says you did. And that's how people know.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Piglet. \"Because I—I thought I did blinch a little. Just at first. And it says, 'Did he blinch no no.' That's why.\"\n\n\"You only blinched inside,\" said Pooh, \"and that's the bravest way for a Very Small Animal not to blinch that there is.\"\n\nPiglet sighed with happiness, and began to think about himself. He was BRAVE….\n\nWhen they got to Owl's old house, they found everybody else there except Eeyore. Christopher Robin was telling them what to do, and Rabbit was telling them again directly afterwards, in case they hadn't heard, and then they were all doing it. They had got a rope and were pulling Owl's chairs and pictures and things out of his old house so as to be ready to put them into his new one. Kanga was down below tying the things on, and calling out to Owl, \"You won't want this dirty old dish-cloth any more, will you, and what about this carpet, it's all in holes,\" and Owl was calling back indignantly, \"Of course I do! It's just a question of arranging the furniture properly, and it isn't a dish-cloth, it's my shawl.\" Every now and then Roo fell in and came back on the rope with the next article, which flustered Kanga a little because she never knew where to look for him. So she got cross with Owl and said that his house was a Disgrace, all damp and dirty, and it was quite time it did tumble down. Look at that horrid bunch of toadstools growing out of the floor there! So Owl looked down, a little surprised because he didn't know about this, and then gave a short sarcastic laugh, and explained that that was his sponge, and that if people didn't know a perfectly ordinary bath-sponge when they saw it, things were coming to a pretty pass. \"Well!\" said Kanga, and Roo fell in quickly, crying, \"I must see Owl's sponge! Oh, there it is! Oh, Owl! Owl, it isn't a sponge, it's a spudge! Do you know what a spudge is, Owl? It's when your sponge gets all—\" and Kanga said, \"Roo, dear!\" very quickly, because that's not the way to talk to anybody who can spell Tuesday.\n\nBut they were all quite happy when Pooh and Piglet came along, and they stopped working in order to have a little rest and listen to Pooh's new song. So then they all told Pooh how good it was and Piglet said carelessly, \"It is good, isn't it? I mean as a song.\"\n\n\"And what about the new house?\" asked Pooh. \"Have you found it, Owl?\"\n\n\"He's found a name for it,\" said Christopher Robin, lazily nibbling at a piece of grass, \"so now all he wants is the house.\"\n\n\"I am calling it this,\" said Owl importantly, and he showed them what he had been making. It was a square piece of board with the name of the house painted on it.\n\nTHE WOLERY\n\nIt was at this exciting moment that something came through the trees, and bumped into Owl. The board fell to the ground, and Piglet and Roo bent over it eagerly.\n\n\"Oh, it's you,\" said Owl crossly.\n\n\"Hallo, Eeyore!\" said Rabbit. \"There you are! Where have you been?\"",
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"value": "Eeyore took no notice of them.",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 37 sentences.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Good morning, Christopher Robin,\" he said, brushing away Roo and Piglet, and sitting down on THE WOLERY. \"Are we alone?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Christopher Robin, smiling to himself.\n\n\"I have been told—the news has worked through to my corner of the Forest—the damp bit down on the right which nobody wants—that a certain Person is looking for a house. I have found one for him.\"\n\n\"Ah, well done,\" said Rabbit kindly.\n\nEeyore looked round slowly at him, and then turned back to Christopher Robin.\n\n\"We have been joined by something,\" he said in a loud whisper. \"But no matter. We can leave it behind. If you will come with me, Christopher Robin, I will show you the house.\"\n\nChristopher Robin jumped up.\n\n\"Come on, Pooh,\" he said.\n\n\"Come on, Tigger!\" cried Roo.\n\n\"Shall we go, Owl?\" said Rabbit.\n\n\"Wait a moment,\" said Owl, picking up his notice-board, which had just come into sight again.\n\nEeyore waved them back.\n\n\"Christopher Robin and I are going for a Short Walk,\" he said, \"not a Jostle. If he likes to bring Pooh and Piglet with him, I shall be glad of their company, but one must be able to Breathe.\"\n\n\"That's all right,\" said Rabbit, rather glad to be left in charge of something. \"We'll go on getting the things out. Now then, Tigger, where's that rope? What's the matter, Owl?\"\n\nOwl, who had just discovered that his new address was THE SMUDGE, coughed at Eeyore sternly, but said nothing, and Eeyore, with most of THE WOLERY behind him, marched off with his friends.\n\nSo, in a little while, they came to the house which Eeyore had found, and for some minutes before they came to it, Piglet was nudging Pooh, and Pooh was nudging Piglet, and they were saying, \"It is!\" and \"It can't be!\" and \"It is, really!\" to each other.\n\nAnd when they got there, it really was.\n\n\"There!\" said Eeyore proudly, stopping them outside Piglet's house. \"And the name on it, and everything!\"\n\n\"Oh!\" cried Christopher Robin, wondering whether to laugh or what.\n\n\"Just the house for Owl. Don't you think so, little Piglet?\"\n\nAnd then Piglet did a Noble Thing, and he did it in a sort of dream, while he was thinking of all the wonderful words Pooh had hummed about him.\n\n\"Yes, it's just the house for Owl,\" he said grandly. \"And I hope he'll be very happy in it.\" And then he gulped twice, because he had been very happy in it himself.\n\n\"What do you think, Christopher Robin?\" asked Eeyore a little anxiously, feeling that something wasn't quite right.\n\nChristopher Robin had a question to ask first, and he was wondering how to ask it.\n\n\"Well,\" he said at last, \"it's a very nice house, and if your own house is blown down, you must go somewhere else, mustn't you, Piglet? What would you do, if your house was blown down?\"\n\nBefore Piglet could think, Pooh answered for him.\n\n\"He'd come and live with me,\" said Pooh, \"wouldn't you, Piglet?\"\n\nPiglet squeezed his paw.\n\n\"Thank you, Pooh,\" he said, \"I should love to.\"",
"loss": true
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Ive got a bit of writers block, im gonna send you something then keep it going 44 sentences at a time, also im going for a A. A. Milne sorta thing. heads up - might drop you in mid-story with existing characters",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Frequency requirement: 'notice' - 3 occurrence(s)",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christopher Robin was going away. Nobody knew why he was going; nobody knew where he was going; indeed, nobody even knew why he knew that Christopher Robin was going away. But somehow or other everybody in the Forest felt that it was happening at last. Even Smallest-of-All, a friend-and-relation of Rabbit's who thought he had once seen Christopher Robin's foot, but couldn't be sure because perhaps it was something else, even S.-of-A. told himself that Things were going to be Different; and Late and Early, two other friends-and-relations, said, \"Well, Early?\" and \"Well, Late?\" to each other in such a hopeless sort of way that it really didn't seem any good waiting for the answer.\n\nOne day when he felt that he couldn't wait any longer, Rabbit brained out a Notice, and this is what it said:\n\n\"Notice a meeting of everybody will meet at the House at Pooh Corner to pass a Rissolution By Order Keep to the Left Signed Rabbit.\"\n\nHe had to write this out two or three times before he could get the rissolution to look like what he thought it was going to when he began to spell it: but, when at last it was finished, he took it round to everybody and read it out to them. And they all said they would come.\n\n\"Well,\" said Eeyore that afternoon, when he saw them all walking up to his house, \"this is a surprise. Am I asked too?\"\n\n\"Don't mind Eeyore,\" whispered Rabbit to Pooh. \"I told him all about it this morning.\"\n\nEverybody said \"How-do-you-do\" to Eeyore, and Eeyore said that he didn't, not to notice, and then they sat down; and as soon as they were all sitting down, Rabbit stood up again.\n\n\"We all know why we're here,\" he said, \"but I have asked my friend Eeyore—\"\n\n\"That's Me,\" said Eeyore. \"Grand.\"\n\n\"I have asked him to Propose a Rissolution.\" And he sat down again. \"Now then, Eeyore,\" he said.\n\n\"Don't Bustle me,\" said Eeyore, getting up slowly. \"Don't now-then me.\" He took a piece of paper from behind his ear, and unfolded it. \"Nobody knows anything about this,\" he went on. \"This is a Surprise.\" He coughed in an important way, and began again: \"Whatnots and Etceteras, before I begin, or perhaps I should say, before I end, I have a piece of Poetry to read to you. Hitherto—hitherto—a long word meaning—well, you'll see what it means directly—hitherto, as I was saying, all the Poetry in the Forest has been written by Pooh, a Bear with a Pleasing Manner but a Positively Startling Lack of Brain. The Poem which I am now about to read to you was written by Eeyore, or Myself, in a Quiet Moment. If somebody will take Roo's bull's-eye away from him, and wake up Owl, we shall all be able to enjoy it. I call it—POEM.\"\n\nThis was it.\n\nChristopher Robin is going.\n\nAt least I think he is.\n\nWhere?\n\nNobody knows.\n\nBut he is going—\n\nI mean he goes\n\n(To rhyme with \"knows\")\n\nDo we care?\n\n(To rhyme with \"where\")\n\nWe do\n\nVery much.\n\n(I haven't got a rhyme for that \"is\" in the second line yet. Bother.)\n\n(Now I haven't got a rhyme for bother. Bother.)\n\nThose two bothers will have to rhyme with each other Buther.\n\nThe fact is this is more difficult than I thought,\n\nI ought—\n\n(Very good indeed)\n\nI ought\n\nTo begin again,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But it is easier",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "To stop.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Christopher Robin, good-bye,",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I\n\n(Good)\n\nI\n\nAnd all your friends\n\nSends—\n\nI mean all your friend\n\nSend—\n\n(Very awkward this, it keeps going wrong)\n\nWell, anyhow, we send Our love\n\nEND.\n\n\"If anybody wants to clap,\" said Eeyore when he had read this, \"now is the time to do it.\"\n\nThey all clapped.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Eeyore. \"Unexpected and gratifying, if a little lacking in Smack.\"\n\n\"It's much better than mine,\" said Pooh admiringly, and he really thought it was.\n\n\"Well,\" explained Eeyore modestly, \"it was meant to be.\"\n\n\"The rissolution,\" said Rabbit, \"is that we all sign it, and take it to Christopher Robin.\"\n\nSo it was signed PooH, PIGLET, WOL, EOR, RABBIT, KANGA, BLOT, SMUDGE.\n\n...and they all went off to Christopher Robin's house with it. \"Hallo, everybody,\" said Christopher Robin—\"Hallo, Pooh.\"\n\nThey all said \"Hallo,\" and felt awkward and unhappy suddenly, because it was a sort of good-bye they were saying, and they didn't want to think about it. So they stood around, and waited for somebody else to speak, and they nudged each other, and said \"Go on,\" and gradually Eeyore was nudged to the front, and the others crowded behind him.\n\n\"What is it, Eeyore?\" asked Christopher Robin. Eeyore swished his tail from side to side, so as to encourage himself, and began.\n\n\"Christopher Robin,\" he said, \"we've come to say—to give you—it's called—written by—but we've all—because we've heard, I mean we all know—well, you see, it's—we—you—well, that, to put it as shortly as possible, is what it is.\" He turned round angrily on the others and said, \"Everybody crowds round so in this Forest. There's no Space. I never saw a more Spreading lot of animals in my life, and all in the wrong places. Can't you see that Christopher Robin wants to be alone? I'm going.\" And he humped off.\n\nNot quite knowing why, the others began edging away, and when Christopher Robin had finished reading POEM, and was looking up to say, \"Thank you,\" only Pooh was left.\n\n\"It's a comforting sort of thing to have,\" said Christopher Robin, folding up the paper, and putting it in his pocket. \"Come on, Pooh,\" and he walked off quickly.\n\n\"Where are we going?\" said Pooh, hurrying after him, and wondering whether it was to be an Explore or a What-shall-I-do-about-you-know-what.\n\n\"Nowhere,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\nSo they began going there, and after they had walked a little way Christopher Robin said:\n\n\"What do you like doing best in the world, Pooh?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Pooh, \"what I like best—\" and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called. And then he thought that being with Christopher Robin was a very good thing to do, and having Piglet near was a very friendly thing to have; and so, when he had thought it all out, he said, \"What I like best in the whole world is Me and Piglet going to see You, and You saying 'What about a little something?' and Me saying, 'Well, I shouldn't mind a little something, should you, Piglet,' and it being a hummy sort of day outside, and birds singing.\"\n\n\"I like that too,\" said Christopher Robin, \"but what I like doing best is Nothing.\"\n\n\"How do you do Nothing?\" asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time.\n\n\"Well, it's when people call out at you just as you're going off to do it, What are you going to do, Christopher Robin, and you say, Oh, nothing, and then you go and do it.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"This is a nothing sort of thing that we're doing now.\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh, I see,\" said Pooh again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It means just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh!\" said Pooh.\n\nThey walked on, thinking of This and That, and by-and-by they came to an enchanted place on the very top of the Forest called Galleons Lap, which is sixty-something trees in a circle; and Christopher Robin knew that it was enchanted because nobody had ever been able to count whether it was sixty-three or sixty-four, not even when he tied a piece of string round each tree after he had counted it. Being enchanted, its floor was not like the floor of the Forest, gorse and bracken and heather, but close-set grass, quiet and smooth and green. It was the only place in the Forest where you could sit down carelessly, without getting up again almost at once and looking for somewhere else. Sitting there they could see the whole world spread out until it reached the sky, and whatever there was all the world over was with them in Galleons Lap.\n\nSuddenly Christopher Robin began to tell Pooh about some of the things: People called Kings and Queens and something called Factors, and a place called Europe, and an island in the middle of the sea were no ships came, and how you make a Suction Pump (if you want to), and when Knights were Knighted, and what comes from Brazil. And Pooh, his back against one of the sixty-something trees, and his paws folded in front of him, said \"Oh!\" and \"I didn't know,\" and thought how wonderful it would be to have a Real Brain which could tell you things. And by-and-by Christopher Robin came to an end of the things, and was silent, and he sat there looking out over the world, and wishing it wouldn't stop.\n\nBut Pooh was thinking too, and he said suddenly to Christopher Robin:\n\n\"Is it a very Grand thing to be an Afternoon, what you said?\"\n\n\"A what?\" said Christopher Robin lazily, as he listened to something else.\n\n\"On a horse,\" explained Pooh.\n\n\"A Knight?\"\n\n\"Oh, was that it?\" said Pooh. \"I thought it was a—Is it as Grand as a King and Factors and all the other things you said?\"\n\n\"Well, it's not as grand as a King,\" said Christopher Robin, and then, as Pooh seemed disappointed, he added quickly, \"but it's grander than Factors.\"\n\n\"Could a Bear be one?\"\n\n\"Of course he could!\" said Christopher Robin. \"I'll make you one.\" And he took a stick and touched Pooh on the shoulder, and said, \"Rise, Sir Pooh de Bear, most faithful of all my Knights.\"\n\nSo Pooh rose and sat down and said \"Thank you,\" which is the proper thing to say when you have been made a Knight, and he went into a dream again, in which he and Sir Pomp and Sir Brazil and Factors lived together with a horse, and were faithful Knights (all except Factors, who looked after the horse) to Good King Christopher Robin…and every now and then he shook his head, and said to himself \"I'm not getting it right.\" Then he began to think of all the things Christopher Robin would want to tell him when he came back from wherever he was going to, and how muddling it would be for a Bear of Very Little Brain to try and get them right in his mind. \"So, perhaps,\" he said sadly to himself, \"Christopher Robin won't tell me any more,\" and he wondered if being a Faithful Knight meant that you just went on being faithful without being told things.\n\nThen, suddenly again, Christopher Robin, who was still looking at the world, with his chin in his hands, called out \"Pooh!\"\n\n\"Yes?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"When I'm—when—Pooh!\"\n\n\"Yes, Christopher Robin?\"\n\n\"I'm not going to do Nothing any more.\"\n\n\"Never again?\"\n\n\"Well, not so much. They don't let you.\"\n\nPooh waited for him to go on, but he was silent again.\n\n\"Yes, Christopher Robin?\" said Pooh helpfully.\n\n\"Pooh, when I'm—you know—when I'm not doing Nothing, will you come up here sometimes?\"\n\n\"Just Me?\"\n\n\"Yes, Pooh.\"\n\n\"Will you be here too?\"\n\n\"Yes, Pooh, I will be, really. I promise I will be, Pooh.\"\n\n\"That's good,\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Pooh, promise you won't forget about me, ever. Not even when I'm a hundred.\"\n\nPooh thought for a little.\n\n\"How old shall I be then?\"\n\n\"Ninety-nine.\"\n\nPooh nodded.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I promise,\" he said.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 8 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Still with his eyes on the world Christopher Robin put out a hand and felt for Pooh's paw.\n\n\"Pooh,\" said Christopher Robin earnestly, \"if I—if I'm not quite—\" he stopped and tried again—\"Pooh, whatever happens, you will understand, won't you?\"\n\n\"Understand what?\"\n\n\"Oh, nothing.\" He laughed and jumped to his feet. \"Come on!\"\n\n\"Where?\" said Pooh.\n\n\"Anywhere,\" said Christopher Robin.\n\nSo they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the Forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.",
"loss": true
}
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Writing partner mode: 59 sentences sentences, match context level. Themes: LGBT, portal fiction, Hell's Library",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Books ran when they grew restless, when they grew unruly, or when they grew real. Regardless of the reason, when books ran, it was a librarian's duty to catch them.\n\nThe twisty annex of Assyrian romances, full of jagged words and shadowed hearts broken on unforgiving clay tablets, had a tendency to turn around even experienced curators. The librarian, Claire, cornered the book there. The book had chosen to take form as the character of a pale, coltish girl, and her breathing was nearly as ragged as Claire's was from the run. Claire forced her shaking hands still as she approached. The book was young, and so was its character, back pressed into the bookcase, dandelion-fluff hair fluttering around thin shoulders. Muddy jeans, superhero tee, a whimper like dried reeds. \"Please. I can't—I don't want to go back.\"\n\nDamn. Claire preferred them angry. Angry was simpler. \"The Library has rules.\"\n\nA flicker of color swung around the corner. Her assistant, Brevity, skidded to a stop just short of the book. Her apple-round cheeks, usually a shade of robin's-egg blue, were tinged purple from the run. Seafoam green bangs puffed above her eyes, and she mumbled an apology as she handed Claire a slender bit of steel wrapped in cloth.\n\nClaire stowed the tool in her pocket, where it would stay, she hoped. She considered the cowering figure in front of her.\n\nThere were two parts to any unwritten book. Its words—the twisting, changing text on the page—and its story. Most of the time, the two parts were united in the books filling the Unwritten Wing's stacks, but now and then a book woke up. Felt it had a purpose beyond words on a page. Then the story made itself into one of its characters and went walking.\n\nAs the head librarian of Hell's Unwritten Wing, Claire had the job of keeping stories on their pages.\n\nThe girl—No, the character, the book, Claire corrected herself—tried again. \"You don't get it. In the woods—I saw what it did...\"\n\nClaire glanced down at the book in her hands and read the gold stamp on the spine. The font was blocky and modern, clearly signaling this was a younger book despite the thick leather hide of the cover. It read: DEAD HOT SUMMER. Her stomach soured; this job had ruined her taste for the horror genre entirely. \"Be that as it may, you have nothing to worry about. It's just a story—you are just a story, and until you're written—\"\n\n\"I won't make trouble,\" the character said. \"I just—\"\n\n\"You're not human.\" The words snapped out before Claire could censor them. The girl reacted as if she'd been slapped, and curled into the shelves.\n\nClaire took a measured breath between gritted teeth. \"You can't be scared. You're not human—let's not pretend otherwise. You're a very cunning approximation, but you're simply a manifestation, a character. A book playing at human... But you're not. And books belong on shelves.\"\n\nBrevity cleared her throat. \"She is scared, boss. If you want me to, I can sit with her. Maybe we can put her in the damsel suite—\"\n\n\"Absolutely not. Her author is still alive.\"\n\nThe character zeroed in on the more sympathetic target. She took a step toward Brevity. \"I just don't want to die in there.\"\n\n\"Stop.\" Claire flipped open the leather cover and thrust it toward the character. \"This is only wasting time. Back to the pages.\"\n\nShe looked uncertainly at her book. \"I don't know how.\"\n\n\"Touch the pages. Remember where your story starts. 'Once upon a time...' or what have you.\" Claire slid a hand into her pocket, fingers finding metal. \"Alternately, stories always return to their pages when damaged. If you require assistance?\"\n\nThe scalpel was cool in her palm. It was normally used in repairing and rebinding old books, but a practiced hand could send a rogue character back to its pages.\n\nClaire had plenty of practice.\n\n\"I'll try.\" The girl's hand trembled as she flattened a small palm against the open pages. Her brow wrinkled.\n\nA chill of quiet ticked over Claire's skin. The books weighing down nearby shelves twitched sleepily. A muffled murmur drifted in the air. The wooden shelves towering overhead pulsed with movement, old leather spines shuffling against the bronze rails. Dust shivered in a spill of lamplight.\n\nBrevity shifted uneasily next to her. An awake book was a noisy thing.",
"loss": true
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Task: Cooperative storytelling\nContext: May include established characters/lore without introduction\nMy role: Provide a brief opening\nYour role: Expand upon my opening with forty sentences, emulating the writing style of A. J. Hackwith.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When they emerged from the depths of the Unwritten Wing's stacks, Claire found the demon sweating holes into her rug. It was a particularly fine rug, peacock blue and intricately dreamed by an artist of the Ottoman Empire. Dreamed but never made, which made it all the more irreplaceable.\n\nThe scent of rotten eggs curdled the Library's pleasant smell of sleeping books and tea, scalding her nose. A bead of sweat fell from the nervous demon's cuff and hit the carpet with a hiss. Claire closed her eyes for a count of five. She cleared her throat. \"Can I help you?\"\n\nThe demon jumped and twisted around. He was scrawny, all bones and amber skin in a cheap oversized suit. He appeared human, or at least human adjacent, as most demons did, save for the pinpricks of ears that poked up through an oil slick of springy black curls. He bit his lip, managing to look skeletal and innocent at the same time, and he held a thin purple folder in front of him like a shield. \"Ms. Claire, of the... Is this the Library?\"\n\n\"That generally is where librarians are found.\" Claire sat down at her desk. She eyed the repair work she'd started, while Brevity returned to sorting books on a cart. \"You're in the Unwritten Wing. You may read, or you may leave.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm not here to—\" The demon twitched. Claire tracked his movements out of the corner of her eye, giving the text in front of her only cursory attention. The books stacked on the corner of the desk gave a lazy growl, and the demon sidestepped quickly away. His nervous gaze landed on her hands. \"Is... is that blood?\"\n\nClaire glanced down at the hand that had held the scalpel. She wiped her fingers on her skirts and returned to her work. \"Ink.\"\n\nThe book open on the desk was one of the young ones, one that still had a chance of being written by its author someday. Brevity had misfiled it with a particularly crotchety series of old unwritten novels. Whaling stories, if Claire remembered right. The impressionable young book now had all sorts of rubbish jumbled in its still-sprouting narrative. Five-paragraph descriptions of food, meditations on masculinity and the sea, complete nonsense for an unwritten tale about teenage witches in love. If its author began to write while it was in this state, she would never attempt another book. It was Claire's job to keep the books ready for their authors in the best possible state. Tidy. Stories were never tidy, but it was important to keep up appearances.\n\nWhen she didn't look up again, the demon coughed and shook loose another bead of sweat. It hit the rug with a dull hiss.\n\nClaire winced. She pressed her scalpel flat against the book. \"You're damaging my rug.\"\n\nThe demon looked down at his feet. He stepped off the rug awkwardly, found himself on an even more complex rug, and shuffled again.\n\nHe'd be at that all day, and Claire would be at repairs all night. She reluctantly turned from the book she was working on, pressing one elbow on it to keep it from creeping off.",
"loss": true
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Write 17 sentences sentences spawning from what the user wrote, maintaining any existing character relationships or establishing new ones, within the fantasy genre.",
"loss": null
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Names were a necessary nicety even Claire had to tolerate. The demon introduced himself with a very clumsy bow; this small bit of etiquette helped him to relax and stop sweating acid everywhere. Claire frowned at his name. \"Leto. Like the Greek myth?\"\n\nThe skinny demon ducked his head. \"Like from the sci-fi novel.\"\n\n\"So, you're a demon of...?\"\n\n\"Entropy.\"\n\n\"They sent a demon of entropy to a library wing full of irreplaceable artifacts?\" Claire stared at Leto and then shook her head, muttering, \"I will kill him. Positively kill him.\"\n\nLeto twitched. \"If you don't mind my asking... how, ah, how can you talk about His Highness like that?\"\n\n\"Simple,\" Claire said. \"The Library exists in Hell; it doesn't serve it. He's not my Highness.\"\n\nLeto paled, and she dismissed it with a wave. \"It's a long story. Don't worry yourself. I still follow orders. This is Brevity, muse and my assistant in the Unwritten Wing.\"\n\n\"Former muse. I flunked out.\" Brevity made a face and offered her hand.\n\nIf Leto was a scarecrow teenager in appearance, Brevity was of the sprite variety.",
"loss": true
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"from": "system",
"value": "/set_word_count: pockets, frequency: 2",
"loss": null
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her hair was spiky and short and a dainty shade of sea glass. Beneath the cuffs of a multicolored jumper, propane blue tattoos flowed over paler cornflower skin in a shifting series of script that almost appeared readable, at least until one tried to focus on it.\n\n\"Nice to meet you, ma'am.\" Leto shook her hand shyly, taking care to keep his fingers back from the ripple of tattoo.\n\n\"Hey! A demon with manners. I like this one,\" Brevity said.\n\n\"Many demons are perfectly polite to me,\" Claire pointed out.\n\n\"No, many demons are intimidated by the Library, boss. There's a difference,\" Brevity said as Claire pulled out a drawer in search of tools.\n\nThe mundane tools of a librarian's trade included notebooks and writing implements, and the less usual: inks that glimmered, stamps that bit, wriggling wax, and twine. All of them went into a bag that Claire slung across her chest. Pen and paper went into the hidden pockets of her muddled, many-tiered skirts. She'd been buried in some frippery that was dour even for her time, all buttons and layers. She'd chopped the skirt at the knee long ago for easy movement, but Claire lived by the firm moral philosophy that one could never have too many pockets, too many books, or too much tea.\n\nIt wasn't as if she had proper hours to maintain. Claire squinted at a squat copper sundial, fueled by a steady if entirely unnatural light all its own, and scribbled a new line in the Library's logbook. It was thick and ancient, crusted with age and the oils of a hundred librarian fingerprints. It also never ran out of paper. Claire flipped from her personal notes to the \"Library Status\" log and ended an entry with a flourish, and the lights in the hall began to flutter.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Library is now closed.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All materials must be returned to the shelves. A disembodied voice, clipped and dull, echoed through the hall. Claire tapped her foot as the voice continued. The Library is now closed. Patrons are reminded that any curses, charms, or dreams left behind are considered forfeit to the stacks. The Library is now closed.\n\nThere were not many patrons lounging around the reading area, but the few imps that were reading put down their books reluctantly and began to make their way to the exit, much to Leto's slack-jawed amazement. Creatures of Hell, on general principle, took to following orders as well as one might expect. Which is to say, not at all and with liberal interpretation. Most of the Library's regulars were powerless imps and bored foot soldiers, but one beefy incubus with horns, clad in little more than chitin and scar tissue, handed his book directly to Claire with a grunt.\n\nClaire clucked her tongue. \"No sulking. You know we don't do lending. It'll be here for you tomorrow, Furcas. Go on now.\"\n\nLeto managed to close his mouth before his sputter could ruin another rug. \"That— Was that...\"\n\n\"Intimidated. Told you,\" Brevity said.\n\nOnce the remaining patrons disappeared out the great doors, Claire closed the log and swept toward the far wall. Leto clung to her heels, and Claire bit back a smile. The Library was fickle, eerie terrain, especially to demons.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "From the main desk, the cavernous space ran back into shadows in all directions, and every available surface was layered with wood or parchment of varying ages.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Rows of shelves filled with books ran high over their heads, and larger tomes crouched at the end of each row in quivering packs.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Plush rugs of riotous color muffled the floor. Every visible wall space carried an oil canvas, with images in various states of completion. They governed themselves with their own regular rotation and changes. More paintings hung on a monstrous series of pivoting racks at the far back, draped in shadow like a leafy thicket.\n\nClaire's target was the far wall, a large section of buttery pale yellow drawers. Endless rows of drawers that hadn't been there a moment ago. The Library functioned on requirement, shifting and flowing to the needs of the books and librarians. Leto eyed it with anxiety, but Claire shoved the folder back into his hands. She began to scale a ladder clipped to a rail. \"Author name and story title?\"\n\n\"Ah...\" Leto opened the file. \"Author, McGowan. Amber Guinevere McGowan.\"\n\nHer foot stabbed out at the wooden wall, and the ladder coasted a few feet down the row of drawers. \"McGowan. Right. God, middle name Guinevere? What were her parents thinking? No wonder she never became a writer.\" Claire yanked a drawer open. \"Title?\"\n\n\"Uh, the missing title just says 'Nightfall.'\" Leto looked up as Claire let out a snort. \"Something wrong?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I think every writer, written or unwritten, has some glorified adventure titled 'Nightfall' stuck in their head. Half the residents here were a 'Nightfall' at one point. Even unwritten stories eventually migrate to something more original.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 8 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Claire danced her fingers over the drawer before snapping up a card. She slid the drawer closed and descended.\n\nHer sneaker-clad feet hit the ground, and Claire headed for the exit. \"Calling card says it's definitely still in Seattle. Brev, you up for a field trip?\"\n\nBrevity's gold eyes grew to saucers, and she stumbled forward in a little dance. Her voice wasn't quite a squeal but flirted with the idea. \"You mean upstairs?\" she said breathily. \"Always and forever, boss.\"",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: Cooperative storytelling\nContext: May include established characters/lore without introduction\nMy role: Provide a brief opening\nYour role: Expand upon my opening with forty sentences, emulating the writing style of A. J. Hackwith.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Leto had never had his liver pulled through his ears, but he could now imagine the experience. It was as if a force had reached through the walls of the little room, through his skin, through every atom in his body... and ripped. Not up, not down, but betwixt, shouldering aside reality as it went. Leto's vision faded and his equilibrium reported movement in one direction, then another, before giving up entirely.\n\nSomething hard bit into his knees, and fresh air hit his face. Rather than helping, this reminded his innards that he was no longer dying, and Leto felt the peculiarly mortal need to lose the contents of his stomach.\n\n\"He's okay! Too much excitement.\" A voice chirped to his right. \"We're okay—thanks! Have a good day.\"\n\nLeto forced open one eye and saw Brevity waving off a cluster of humans. The group was clad in loud nylon jackets and showed polite, if flimsy, concern before shuffling off. Tourists. Leto found the term in his mind, though he didn't know where the word came from.\n\nThey stood in a large outdoor space, paved with concrete and studded with a line of round marble shapes. Milling humans cluttered the area around glass sculptures and souvenir stands. Behind them, dull metal struts rose to form a towering, spindly landmark that disappeared into an eternal gray.\n\nLeto gripped a marble sphere and slowly wobbled to his feet. \"Shouldn't we be worried someone saw us?\"\n\n\"If they did, they'd just as quickly forget,\" Claire said. \"Summonings are tough to remember. Wouldn't be a useful means of transit otherwise.\"\n\nLeto turned and saw the librarian had fared the summoning just slightly better than he had. She leaned on a concrete bench. Her skin, normally a rich nut brown, was waxy around her flushed cheeks. Her dark hair, once full of tiny and impressively complicated beadwork, was now a thatch of simple braids tied away from her face. Her complex layers of clothes were also simplified into a vaguely Bohemian mix of a blouse, thick skirts, and sneakers.\n\nBrevity, too, had undergone small mortal changes. Her skin no longer held a propane blue glow, her gold eyes were a plain brown, and roiling tattoos had resolved to a generic knotting pattern up each arm. Her hair, Leto was surprised to note, was still pastel green.\n\nLeto glanced sharply down at his own hands but saw little change. Running fingers over his head revealed a long tide of faintly curled, mostly tangled dark hair, less oily and thornbush-like than it was in Hell, and his pointed ears were blunted to fleshy circles.\n\nHe also felt clammy and smelled vaguely of meat.\n\n\"Don't worry—it's not permanent.\" Claire brought him out of his self-inspection.\n\n\"I don't know if I like being this... squishy,\" Leto said. It brought thoughts to mind, disquieting feelings, mortality, flashes of laughter and starlight and loss no longer felt. It was uncomfortable, like wearing someone else's suit, but also faintly familiar in the way all the worst things were.\n\n\"Confusingly squishy. That's humans in a nutshell.\" Brevity shooed off the last concerned bystanders and held out a small object to each of her companions.\n\nLeto took the small plastic canister. It was blue, with metal workings on top, and translucent. Inside, a delicate flame, no bigger than a speck but brighter than it had a right to be, bubbled in a clear liquid.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Your ghostlight candles. They'll last about a day. Don't lose 'em,\" Brevity said as she saw Leto's puzzled look.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We can't exactly carry lit holy candles around here. Basic camouflage. Candles down below turn into cigarette lighters up here. But don't let anyone borrow a light. It's kinda your passport while you're here.\"\n\n\"You do not want to get caught outside of Hell without your ghostlight. Very bad things happen. Now, then, about that book...\" Claire tucked her ghostlight into a skirt pocket without looking at it. She paused to dig the tiny calling card out of her leather bag. \"We've got some ways to walk.\"\n\n\"Ooh, taxi?\" Brevity squeaked. \"I've always wanted to ride in one of those!\"\n\n\"You're a muse—you always want to do everything,\" Claire said. \"If it will save time, I suppose I can fold enough for a cab. Let's go.\"\n\nTo Leto's surprise, the taxi driver paid no attention when what appeared to be a brightly colored rave kiddie, a dreadlocked hipster, and a malnourished teenager in an ill-fitting mortuary suit crawled into his cab. Nor did he blink as Claire spent the entire ride industriously ripping strips of paper out of an ancient-looking notebook and making complicated folds. One more oddity in an odd human world, just passing through.\n\nClaire frowned at the card before directing the cab to drive \"downtown\" and not stop until they lost \"the smell of fish and commerce.\"\n\nThe driver squinted into the rearview mirror, probably rethinking his fare. \"Uh, Pioneer Square?\"\n\nAgain, the librarian consulted the tiny card. \"Sure, close enough.\" Over her shoulder, Leto was surprised to see the neatly printed type moving and shifting across the tiny square card, reorienting with new (poetically vague) directions each time the cab turned.\n\nAs the cab pulled up to a curb, Claire finished her folding and held the slips of paper out to the driver. \"Keep the change.\"\n\nThe driver frowned. \"What the f—\"\n\n\"You dreamed of a big house.\" Claire's voice dropped, odd and strangely formal, as Leto slid out of the car after her. She leaned through the window of the cab and caught the driver with her gaze. \"With a big porch and a fireplace in the bedroom. Hearth, heart, hurt. You want to take her there and kiss her in the kitchen at the end of the day, food cooking, fire inside. Secure, solid, someday. Steps. This is your first.\"\n\nThe driver watched Claire's face and blinked slowly; then a fragile smile slid over his rough features. \"Yeah, the house...\" He nodded and tucked the slips of ragged paper in his pocket. \"Thanks for the tip, ma'am. You have a good day.\"\n\nClaire straightened and tucked the notebook back into her bag.\n\n\"What—\" Leto began.\n\n\"A story.\" Claire watched the cab pull away. \"I paid him in a story, his story. It's all most souls want, really, so it's easy for them to accept.\"\n\nIt didn't sit right with Leto. \"But we cheated him. It's a lie.\"\n\n\"A lie. A dream. Good stories are both,\" Claire dismissed. \"Is it so bad? He'll remember the story, turn it over carefully in the back of his mind, feel the edges of it like he would a lucky coin. A story will change him if he lets it. The shape and the spirit of it. Change how he acts, what dreams he chooses to believe in. We all need our stories; I just fed him a good one.\"\n\n\"But he's got bills to pay. His tally will come out wrong. The money—\"\n\n\"It doesn't do no harm.\" Brevity nudged Leto. \"Besides, don't get boss started. If there's one thing librarians know, it's stories.\"\n\n\"Still doesn't seem right.\" But Leto let it drop.\n\nThey were no longer in the gleaming tourist center of the city. All around them crowded old brick giants, thick buildings with drooping rows of narrow windows, papered with faded posters of all kinds. The main street maintained an infestation of shops, windows displaying discounted baubles or closeout-sale signs.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There were fewer people down here, but there was enough foot traffic that no one seemed to pay their trio much mind.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Claire scowled at the calling card before handing it to Leto. \"It's getting vague. Keep an eye on that, and let's look around.\"",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "This is from the middle of a story, so characters will be referenced as if known. Write 41 sentences sentences like A. J. Hackwith. Genres: fantasy. Themes: LGBT, portal fiction, Hell's Library",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I'm glad I'm here! I'll be the last librarian, for all I care. Think of it: what is more boring than paradise?\n\n—Apprentice Librarian Brevity, 2013 CE\n\nThe realms of the afterlife are long-lived, but not static. Realms function off belief, and will change as beliefs change. Realms can die if starved of souls, but more often they morph into something closer to legend than to religion. Eternity bends to the whims of mortal imagination.\n\nI wonder what we would do if we knew we held such power when we were alive. It's an opportunity.\n\n—Librarian Poppaea Julia, 51 BCE\n\nThere's a first question that anyone who lived a good life hears after they die. It's a simple question. And it was Ramiel's duty to ask it.\n\n\"Anything to declare?\"\n\n\"What?\" The soul was a thin man, his hairline meandering that border between middle-aged and elderly. He was confused, as they always were, wobbling slightly as he stood before the massive gates of Heaven's inbound processing. The Gates, as they were called, stood as representation of Ramiel's own personal angelic duty. And torment.\n\nRami pinched the thick nub of his stylus between his even thicker fingers and leveled his gaze at the man over the edge of the desk. He did not look at the line of souls stacked beyond him, a shimmering line of heads in every shape and color that twisted as far as he could see into the light.\n\nHe did not do a silent calculation of the amount of time the souls would take to process.\n\nDid not feel a cramp in his calloused hands, joints much more accustomed to holding something colder and harder than a stylus.\n\nDid not consider how many ledgers he had yet to fill with notes for judgment.\n\nInstead, the angel took a slow breath and tried again. \"Do you have anything to declare, sir? Secrets taken to the grave, yearnings never realized, visions, prophecies, perhaps?\"\n\nRami did not anticipate much of an answer. Souls carried the baggage of their lives under their skin. Undeclared, unacknowledged, and therefore none of his concern. The rare soul ended up in front of him with some deathbed vision or prophecy. In which case, Rami dutifully recorded it for the judgment.\n\n\"No, nothing like that. I am an accoun—wait, was. Was an accountant.\" The soul tapped gnarled knuckles together. Rami began marking the log when the voice interrupted him on the downstroke.\n\n\"Actually... does this count?\"\n\nRami glanced up. The soul had fished a small scrap of parchment out of his suit pocket.\n\nPaper. Real paper.\n\nNot secrets, not dreams. Not soul-type stuff, conjured by a dying soul. Physical, linen-and-wood-pulp and human-ingenuity-type paper.\n\nAt the Heavenly Gates, the entrance to a world of souls, that was most definitely worth declaring. Rami frowned and leaned over the desk. \"What... That's not— How did you get that up here?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm not quite—\" The skin around the old man's eyes knit together like rumpled tissue as he searched around for an answer. \"Wait, ah, yes. Black magic.\"\n\nRami stared. \"Black magic.\"\n\n\"Yes, quite. Enochian, if I recall. Bit of a fuss it was.\"\n\nFigures it would be Enoch, Rami thought. It was always that bastard. \"Right. Black magic. To bring scratch paper to your Heavenly reward.\"\n\nRami reluctantly shoved away from the bench and came around. Broad but not tall, he was forced to shoulder aside some blank-eyed souls in line. Each shuffled to one side without complaint, but the contact still left a residual feeling, the psychic smudge of the dead, that made Rami rub his palms down the front of his gray tunic before facing the old man. \"Well, Mr. Avery, was it? Just give it here, and let's see—\"\n\nThe moment Rami's fingers came in proximity of the folded scrap, he heard a loud snap. He jerked back his hand with a grunt. A flare of light slowly dimmed around the paper. For a moment, ink on the inside page had glowed sickly green. It left behind the faint smell of ozone and anise.\n\nIt was the smell that alarmed Rami. Nothing at the Gates smelled. Nothing at the Gates had the physical property to smell, per se. An important and convenient fact when dealing with the recently deceased.\n\nThe old man smiled. \"Well, look at that.\"\n\n\"I most definitely am now.\" The hairs on the back of Rami's neck crept up as he considered the innocuous-looking scrap. \"I need you to come with me, Mr. Avery.\"\n\n\"Oh, did I pass?\" The old man was delighted.\n\n\"You did. I just need you to hold that—not too close!\" Rami veered away as Avery swung toward him with the paper. He opted to steer the lost soul by the shoulder.\n\n\"This way. And the rest of you... ah, well.\" He spared one glance for the mass of souls behind him before shoving the old man up toward the Gates.\n\nMr. Avery was happy enough to be led. For an accountant and an evident practitioner of the black arts, he was an agreeable sort. Rami brought him up short a couple of paces away from a tall figure encased entirely in silver. He took a deep breath and brought his knuckles up to rap on the armor.\n\nAn ornate visor pivoted up. A perfectly formed face carried a perfectly expressed sneer. \"What do you want, clerk?\"\n\nThe angel's youth made Rami's bones ache. They seemed to staff the Gates with only the newer caste, just to irritate him.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's Ramiel, you know.\"\n\n\"I do. I just don't care,\" the guard said.\n\n\"I need to speak with an arch.\"\n\n\"Arches don't speak to the Gate, especially not to you.\"\n\n\"I'm well aware.\" Rami fought not to grind his teeth. Because he was a fallen Watcher, his position among the angels was complicated and barely tolerated. \"There's an abnormality they'll want to hear about.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\" the angel said. The old man next to Rami shifted and finally caught the angel's gaze. \"What have you got there, mortal?\"\n\nIt was a question that Rami had forgotten to ask, what with all the glowing and the fuss. The old man looked lost for a moment, gazing down hard into his hand at the trembling bit of scrap. He looked up with a brilliant smile. \"It's the Devil's Bible.\"\n\nThe silence that hung between the two angels was louder than all the shuffling of a million souls past the bench. Rami was the first to recover.\n\n\"If that's—\"\n\n\"I'll get an arch.\"\n\nThe guard disappeared through the Gates. Effortlessly, as Rami had once been able to do. But instead he was left to wait, occasionally shooting out a guiding arm whenever Avery wobbled too far away.\n\nHe sighed at the mass of milling souls that stretched out across the featureless plain. They would be backing up without processing, he knew. It struck him as entirely unnecessary. And tiring. This was Heaven. Souls judged themselves. No one found their way up here unless they were meant to be here. The processing, the Gates, the judgment, it was all a performance someone—likely the only Someone that mattered—had decided was necessary. Once, very long ago, when Rami was allowed past those vast shimmering gates and came and went from the Heavenly court at will, he might have agreed. Now he was just tired.\n\nAnd he wanted back in.\n\n\"Uriel will speak to you.\" The angel guard appeared at his elbow.\n\nRami stifled a groan. \"It would be her.\" He ignored the guard's scandalized glance as he pulled the old man along. Avery was busy grinning at his pockets again.\n\nA door appeared in the wall next to the Gates, revealing a narrow pearl staircase. At the top, Rami and Avery stepped out into a nursery of stars.\n\nThe dimensions of the room followed the general idea of an office: four walls, a smooth floor, and a high ceiling. But it was as if one had tried to explain the idea of an \"office\" to an elder god and this was the result. Everywhere, upon almost every surface, clung a thin film of the universe.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Stars burst across the floor; an orange nebula cloud of color gestated new suns in the curve of a bookcase accented with brass spindles.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It wasn't a painting or a model; the office was molded out of life.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a miniature, breathing existence that bloomed color and expansion. So much color, so full of texture and movement after the unrelenting sterility, it was dizzying. Rami blinked his eyes against it.\n\nThe only mundane surface in the office was a deep oak desk, but even this was held up with pillars of stars. Rami recognized the angel seated behind it.\n\nQuite tall and nearly as powerfully built as Ramiel, Uriel was all light. Her white-gold hair was trimmed short, and her uniform was impeccable, where Rami's was dark and faded. The uniform was not much changed from the last time Ramiel had seen it, despite the centuries that had passed. Outrageous buttons and tassels had been replaced with clean military trim, but it was still a leader's uniform. Still assuredly Uriel. Five seconds in her presence left Rami feeling shabby and mismatched.\n\nUriel was always as inerrant in her presence as she was with her purpose. Rami had once chalked this up to the confidence of youth. Ramiel was from the original Watcher angels, made before the Fall. Uriel belonged to the batch of angelic creatures made after.\n\nBut as the centuries went on, the difference in age became negligible, and he was forced to admit that Uriel was simply better made. Made for power, made for righteousness. Where Rami struggled to be certain of his way, Uriel burned with it.\n\n\"Ramiel.\" No less certain were the daggers of disappointment that edged her smile as she rose to greet him with a powerful handshake. \"I was there when the Host voted to allow you to serve at the Gates. A chance at redemption, a great honor.\" She said this evenly, as if it was a decision she would not have made but could be generous enough to allow.\n\n\"Uriel.\" Rami nudged the old man to sit in an armchair of dwarf stars, cold and lumpy, but stable. \"There's an abnormality—\"\n\n\"You've served well, so far,\" Uriel continued. \"I'm glad you've found your place, my friend.\"\n\nRami's jaw clenched. \"I don't recall our last parting as exactly friendly.\"\n\nUriel dismissed it. \"Foolish failure, but one that I'm pleased to see you're moving past.\"\n\nRami's cheek twitched. The Watchers, sympathizing too deeply with the fragile mortals in their care, had granted humans forbidden knowledge. The cost had been exile with Lucifer's minions, though the Watchers had not rebelled themselves. Heaven called it justice.\n\nBut Rami remembered the impoverished years of war and anarchy among the fallen Watchers, seeing the oldest witnesses to the universe feud and scrabble for survival, soaking men's dreams with enough blood of Heaven to drive them mad. Rami had stayed sane only by walking away.\n\nBeing a fallen angel meant he belonged nowhere, but being a Watcher meant he had access everywhere. Somehow, he'd found himself back at the Gates, looking at the one place he no longer could go. It was after an eon of walking that Ramiel realized the only thing he wanted was to be able to call a place home.\n\nIt'd taken him another century before the archangels had deigned to notice. Another before he was given a chance. Serve Purgatory, faithfully process the mortal souls entering Heaven, and the unspoken offer had been maybe—just maybe—one day he'd pass the Gates himself.\n\nSo he had. So he did. All rather uneventfully, until today.\n\n\"What have you got there, little man?\" Uriel snapped Rami out of his thoughts as she approached Avery. The soul had relaxed even in the surreal surroundings, no longer hunching over his curious scrap of paper.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Avery looked up at the angel. \"A barter.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 13 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Your next response only must contain 33% dialogue",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And what do you hope to barter for?\"\n\n\"Forgiveness.\"\n\n\"Well, now.\" A sharp gleam set over Uriel's eyes. \"That's a big trade.\"\n\nIt really wasn't—every soul in Heaven was forgiven. The judgment had always been for show; the only one who damned you to Hell was yourself. But Rami saw Uriel's tactical mind turning that for information. \"What would be worth such a trade?\"\n\n\"Just a piece of paper. From something I heard was valuable.\" There was a sharpness, an awareness, in the soul's eyes that hadn't been there before. As if the prospect of negotiation had woken him up. \"The Devil's Bible.\"\n\nThe same change came over Uriel's gaze that had transformed the guard as well. \"Ramiel, I'll need a moment with the human soul.\"",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Format: Story segment\nLength: five sentences\nMaintain: Established context\nThemes: LGBT, portal fiction, Hell's Library",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's uncertain what precise conditions precipitate a book's waking up and becoming a character. Some restless characters must be soothed back into their bindings once a decade; others may not stir for several centuries. Some wake when disturbed with attention; others fidget with neglect. Some ache to be told; others appear to want to escape their own narrative. Or improvise upon it.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The only certainty is a book is most at risk while its author is alive.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "/set_word_count: great, frequency: 2",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like any good story, unwritten books have the capacity for great healing and great hurts. We do not act out of cruelty. The safest place for an unwritten book to be—for both it and its author—is sleeping in the Library, dreaming what stories it will tell.\n\n—Librarian Gregor Henry, 1944 CE\n\nThe slap turned leto's chin.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He took a step back from where they stood near the counter of the coffee shop, but Brevity advanced on him, hands on her hips.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "[ooc] CONSTRAINT: Include 'claire' 2 time(s) [ooc]",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you think I wouldn't find out?\"\n\n\"I, uh...\" Leto twisted, meeting pair after pair of blandly curious eyes. They had the attention of the entire shop, whether out of sympathy or annoyance. Claire positioned herself discreetly at the far wall, near the book's table. The hero, as Claire had called him, and his companion were entirely focused on Brevity's display. \"You found out...?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He had just enough warning to flinch before another open hand aimed for his shoulder.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brevity burst into a very believable font of tears. The former muse had mastered the art of crying prettily, and Leto heard sympathetic murmurs drift among the coffee shop's patrons.\n\nHe reached out to pat Brevity on the shoulder. \"I'm sorry...\"\n\n\"Don't touch me!\"\n\nAlthough the red-haired author was riveted, the hero began to lose focus as he scanned the crowd.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His eyes stopped when they stumbled upon Claire.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The two locked gazes with a crackle of energy that went unnoticed by the rest of the shop.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A flash of silver hung from Claire's fingertips, held low at her side like a blade. Her lips moved. The faintest silver script swayed, just a moment, in the air between them. The hero's eyes narrowed and he stood up from the table with a murmured word to his companion.\n\nBrevity cleared her throat, bringing Leto back to their improv.\n\n\"Can't you at least tell me what I did?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The hero and the librarian exchanged a series of hissed words and sharp gestures across the way.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Claire seemed to get the advantage when she flicked up the hand holding her tool. The hero blanched and shot nervous eyes toward his oblivious companion.\n\n\"It's like you're not even here.\" A nudge brought Leto around to face wide brown eyes. Brevity gave him an inscrutable look before her eyes welled with tears again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You don't even see me anymore.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her voice was a stage whisper.\n\nLeto's stomach did a flip-flop, and he hesitantly put a hand on Brevity's arm. He garnered the courage to make his contribution to their little display. \"I, ah, always see you. How could I not see a beautiful girl?\" He resisted cringing at the line, randomly plucked from his limited exposure to human romance.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His voice was not quite as confident as he would have liked, but he frankly had trouble thinking straight in close proximity to Brevity's large, wet eyes.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Past Brevity's shoulder, Leto could see the hero scowl at Claire.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He leaned over and whispered something to his author. She made a face, but the handsome man mollified her with a smile. The hero stood and began making his way out of the coffee shop, Claire tight on his heels.\n\nJust in time. The onlookers were growing bored now that Brevity and Leto weren't screaming at each other. Brevity made a melty noise, flinging her arms back for show.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Why're you always so sweet, huh?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Leto had just enough time to catch a subtle wink from the muse before she caught his chin and pressed soft, smiling lips against his.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Acting as a writing assistant, continue with sixty-three sentences sentences. Follow the established narrative context, including any pre-existing character dynamics.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They waited across the street from the coffee shop, at a bus stop bench just long enough to accommodate all three of them. Claire had fallen into a quiet that was tense enough for Leto to wish she was yelling at people again.\n\nThe librarians kept their eyes fixed on the coffee shop's window. The hero was inside for moments before reappearing at the front table with the redheaded author, just as he'd promised. Leto could see him cradling the woman's hands across the table, their heads angled toward each other.\n\nLeto rubbed the backs of his knuckles before breaking the silence. \"So, uh, do you two do this often?\"\n\n\"I wish. I love it up here.\" Brevity sighed. \"But characters don't often just walk off with their books. And stamping is even more rare.\" She gave the librarian a side glance.\n\nLeto's curiosity overcame his nerves. \"What exactly does that do?\"\n\n\"Stamping?\" Again, Brevity's eyes bobbed to Claire and away before she answered. \"A stamped book becomes part of the Library's special collection. It means the librarian can IWL it.\"\n\n\"IWL?\"\n\n\"Interworld loan,\" Brevity explained. \"Loaned out to or called back from anywhere, basically. Books have a way of going where they're needed, and Hell's Library keeps unwritten art, but it isn't the only library out there—I hear great things about Valhalla's, actually. It keeps all the untold acts of heroism,\" Brevity said. \"Librarians can summon a stamped book back to Hell's Library from anywhere, even if its calling card is destroyed. If it's in Special Collections, it will always return to its originating Library.\"\n\n\"Sounds... serious. Why don't you do that to all the books to avoid their going missing like this?\"\n\n\"There are limits. It... takes a little from the head librarian to administer and maintain a stamp.\" Brevity chewed on her lip.\n\nLeto glanced back at the shop window. \"What do you think he's saying? You mentioned something about fixing stuff.\"\n\nBrevity started to shrug, but Claire made them both jump by answering. \"There's no fixing that damage.\"\n\n\"What damage, though?\" Leto asked after a moment of surprise. \"I mean, he's handsome. I'll give him that. But it seems like just a date...?\"\n\nClaire didn't turn her attention away from the couple in the window. She drew in a long breath. \"Books don't appear as normal people to their authors. Characters are made of something more to the one who created them. They're made of our dreams, our scars, slivers stuck beneath our skin. You're not meant to meet someone like that. She doesn't know it yet, but she's talking to the most alive person she'll ever meet. The kind of alive you don't find in real life. No one, no great love or her own flesh and blood, will ever come close. She'll remember that glint in his eyes, the twist of his chin, a casual turn of phrase. She'll hold it quietly in her mind like a fire. A fire that will consume everything.\n\n\"If she's lucky, she'll walk away haunted. But if she's unlucky, she'll believe it. She won't write him; she'll spend her whole life looking for him.\" Claire's knuckles were white on her lap. \"If she's smart, she'll try to forget. But that brand of memory is always going to be there, seared into a tender curve of her heart, a breath caught in her chest. It kills you eventually.\"\n\nCars rattled past. Brevity's expression was startlingly serious, wide-eyed, and silent. Leto stammered for a response, but the librarian cut him off with a harsh laugh.\n\n\"You surely didn't think I got duty in the Unwritten Wing by random chance?\" Claire's voice was hollow. She glanced at Leto with a paper-thin smile. \"You know how they say 'Never meet your heroes'? For authors most of all, never meet your heroes. Ruins everything.\" She shook her head as she continued to watch the coffee shop.\n\nThey fell quiet. Brevity scuffed her toes on the sidewalk, while Leto squinted up at the rooftops, trying not to think about what he didn't understand.\n\nThe sun was setting fast, and the brick face of the buildings began to bleed shadows, clay turning the color of dried blood. The seagulls echoed from the ferry port down the street, and Leto knew the tour boats would be evicting the last of their passengers, while the ferries took on commuters headed home. He did not stop to wonder how he knew this.\n\n\"Please stop looking at me like that, Brev,\" Claire finally said.\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\n\"Like I'm a soap bubble about to pop. I am perfectly capable. It's just been a long... There he is. About time.\" The librarian shook off the look her assistant gave her and stood quickly as the hero crossed the street.\n\nThey intercepted him at the corner, and the unwritten man held his hands up with a taunting smile. \"Easy, warden. I surrender to your tender mercies.\" The hero's tan seemed a bit paler to Leto, and his eyes darker in the fading light.\n\n\"Your book, hero.\" Claire had shed all sense of wistfulness on the short stride from the bench.\n\nThe hero reached into a jean pocket and pulled out what looked at first like a small tourist guide. As his hand withdrew, however, the book expanded and shimmered until he was holding a weathered leather tome of the same style that filled the Unwritten Wing. Claire snatched the book out of his hands and ran a finger over the spine carefully before handing it to Brevity to stow away. \"You hid it in the coffee shop.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I did.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And you made your good-byes to the author?\"\n\n\"Yes. It was... hard. She was upset. Crying.\" The hero's eyes strayed across the street, searching the windowed front with a shadow of pain. \"She thinks I broke up with her.\"\n\nClaire was unmoved. She pointed down the street as they began walking. Leto and Brevity fell in line behind them. \"I hope you were not foolish enough to try to reveal yourself to her.\"\n\n\"No, of course not. Something more subtle had the same effect.\"\n\nClaire stopped so abruptly that Leto nearly ran into her. She twisted the hero by one arm and diverted them into the closest alleyway. The steamy smell of old rubbish reached out to greet them. The hero wrinkled his nose, and Claire shoved him against a wall. Her heavy braids whipped and nearly caught both Brevity and Leto in the face as she wheeled on the taller man. \"What did you do?\"\n\nThe hero's lips held a smug smile. \"You make the most colorful of fusses, Librarian. Is being surly and dramatic part of the position?\"\n\n\"It's part of having to deal with idiot heroes all day. Answer me, book, or so help me, I will take a cleaver to your spine.\"\n\nLeto was uncertain whether she was speaking about the book or the man, but Claire repeated her question. \"What. Did. You. Do?\"\n\n\"It was just a hint, really.\" The hero looked far too pleased with himself. \"I gave her my opening pages.\"\n\nHer mouth dropped open. \"You...\" She swore and shot out her hand. \"Brevity, the book.\"\n\nHer assistant wrestled the large leather manuscript out of the bag. She cast a spooked look at the hero before passing it over. Claire fished out her ghostlight lighter. It filled the darkening alleyway with a faint blue glow. Brevity nudged Leto, and they both shuffled a step to make sure the eerie light wasn't obvious from the street.\n\nClaire flipped open the cover and held the glowing lighter up. Leto craned to see. The title page was intact, thick vellum tinged a buttery color even in the blue light. But as Claire lifted the page, a jagged edge came into view. Several pages, a dozen or more, had been torn from the front of the book. They'd been ripped roughly, in some places torn deep into the binding, exposing dark scarlet veins of thread. The remaining text picked up midsentence, and each word trembled on the page.\n\nBrevity gasped. Leto noticed Claire's shudder only because it made her braids tremble. Claire took in a sharp breath and held the ghostly lighter closer for inspection. Her lips parted, and she muttered words Leto couldn't understand as she studied the grisly remains of the first pages of the book. The hero crossed his arms and slumped slightly against the bricks, unperturbed as she gingerly closed the book. Her voice was pinched with the kind of quiet one used around a terminal patient.\n\n\"You ripped out your own pages.\"\n\n\"I did,\" the hero said.\n\n\"That would have been... painful.\"\n\n\"It was.\"\n\n\"Self-mutilation.\" Claire shook her head. \"You're a book. What can you possibly hope to gain?\"\n\n\"Everything.\" A fine sweat broke out on the hero's forehead, gleaming in the dim light and plastering the tips of his bronze hair to his temples. His words were fevered. \"I can see it in her eyes, Librarian. She's so close to it! She wants to write, she needs it, and she doesn't even know it!\"\n\n\"It's not your—\"\n\n\"It's cruel. You say it's cruel to visit my author when I am unwritten. But I find it monstrous how you allow these authors to suffer. And yes, allow their stories to suffer as well. To live these half-lives, stories and authors, wearing holes in their souls that hold the shadow of other worlds they'll never see. When you could so easily help them. Ask your muse here!\"\n\nThe hero sank more heavily against the brick. \"One word, one hint, one familiar face in a coffee shop. If I can inspire her to write and make us real... you should be freeing your entire library. Introducing books to their authors, not jailing them. If it gets them to write and gives worlds a chance to live...\"\n\nHe made a guttural sound in his throat. \"Who are you to stop them? Or must every author fail so they can be just as miserable as you?\"\n\nBrevity gasped as if the hero had struck a blow, but Claire's expression faded from anger to concern. \"Hero.\" Her brows knit together as she watched the unwritten man, who was sweating profusely now. \"Tell me what you're... feeling.\"\n\nThe hero looked pale, much too pale. Claire gestured, and Leto quickly went to the hero's side, gripping him under one elbow. He was surprisingly light. The hero grimaced at his touch.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm... fine. It's just damnably hot here, and... where—where was I?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 6 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A tremor shot through the man's body. His brow furrowed, then smoothed to distant dismay. \"Oh dear. The pages. I think she's burning them.\"\n\nAnd with that, the hero fainted onto the concrete.\n\nA stunned silence, then Brevity spoke.\n\n\"Well, he did break up with her.\"",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Task: continue story\nLength: twelve sentences\nStyle: A. J. Hackwith\nMaintain: lore\nAdd: LGBT, portal fiction, Hell's Library",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "We think stories are contained things, but they're not.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ask the muses. Humans, stories, tragedies, and wishes—everything leaves ripples in the world.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nothing we do is not felt; that's a comfort. Nothing we do is not felt; that's a curse.\n\n—Librarian Poppaea Julia, 50 BCE\n\nRamiel transported himself directly to the dead man's living room. The rush of air that accompanied his arrival sent up a burst of dust and fluttering papers. Mr. Jonathan Avery had not been a tidy man toward the end of his life. His Seattle apartment perched at the top of a very trendy tower downtown, but inside was a study in crumpled bags and stacks of papers.\n\nStill, Rami thought he could detect a modicum of reason in the stacks lining every available surface of the accountant's apartment, sprawled with the minutiae of a life of numbers and details. Dust came away on Rami's hand as he thumbed open a cabinet.\n\nAvery hadn't given him much to go on, even after Uriel's prodding. Upon arrival in Heaven, souls were frequently fuzzy on the details of their lives. The whole business of death was traumatic, so temporary amnesia often helped new arrivals adjust to their afterlives.",
"loss": true
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a testament to the man's desperation that he even remembered what the scrap of paper was.\n\nWhich is why Ramiel was on Earth, scrounging around a dead man's apartment for clues. Uriel opted to stay behind and try to draw more answers from Avery. Rami suspected that had less to do with sympathy for the dead and more to do with Uriel disliking modern-day civilization. Rami had the impression that Uriel took the development of human curiosity as terribly inconvenient altogether. She'd never had much use for humans beyond what function they had to please her Creator.\n\nFor Uriel, humans were cut flowers for a lover's bouquet, nothing more.\n\nA superficial sweep turned up little but week-old newspapers and sour milk, and a laptop buried beneath a tilting cliff of paper. He understood these sleek devices were the nexus of modern human lives, the modern confessional, but it would not give up its secrets for him. Luckily, he was less interested in Avery's secrets than in Hell's. There were more traditional ways to track nonhuman artifacts. He crossed the apartment to open the sliding door that led to a shriveled excuse for a balcony, then carded his fingers through his feathered coat until he found an appropriate sacrifice.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wincing as it came free, he shielded the feather from the wind in the cup of his palm.\n\nUriel had said that the scrap came from a book created for Lucifer's realm. Rami did not know this cartoonish \"devil\" that terrorized modern imagination, but he knew Lucifer. He was a selfish angel and likely an even more selfish demon. If something of his was missing, his servants might have already been dispatched to retrieve it. They would have a head start, possibly in this very city, would possibly even have the book already. If Rami could intercept them, he could keep a powerful tool out of evil's hands and end this before any harm could be done.\n\nRami withdrew a silver compass from his pocket and brought it up to the feather he sheltered in his hand. He bent, muttering a few sparse words until a faint white light hummed between compass and feather. As with ink seeping from quill shaft to tip, the feather slowly changed into a deep, pitiless black. Tainted, like the quarry he sought.\n\nRami let the feather flutter off the balcony, then retreated inside to watch the compass in his hands.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The next time the demons moved, to or from this city, he'd have them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 2 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He just had to wait.\n\nRami was good at waiting.",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Expand story by sixty sentences, respecting established elements. Focus: LGBT, portal fiction, Hell's Library",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "user note just fyi, Word frequency rule: 'being' × 3",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Books and stories are the creations of imagination, and that power is just for humans. Take it from me. Gods can will a realm into being, and muses can try to edge things along, but only a mortal can imagine a different way for the story to go. How cool is that? Humans are freaking terrifying. I love it!\n\n—Apprentice Librarian Brevity, 2014 CE\n\n\"Balls,\" Claire muttered.\n\nAs soon as the hero collapsed, the librarian instructed Leto to hoist his legs. It was a waddling walk to drag the prone man farther into the alley where no passing tourists would notice. Despite being surprisingly light, the hero was tall, with long arms and legs that Leto found impossible to corral. Leto grimaced as they hit another trash can that boomed loudly in the darkness.\n\nBrevity, hand full of book rather than hero, kept pace with something close to a nervous dance. She flashed Leto a reassuring smile. \"Cheer up. At least she's not cursing His High—\"\n\n\"Lucifer's frilly, satin balls,\" Claire grunted as they deposited the hero against a stack of stained cardboard boxes with a shove.\n\n\"Never mind,\" Brevity said.\n\nLeto flinched. Despite his growing increasingly used to Claire's colorful wording, each blasphemy still sent a tremor of unease through him. He set the hero's feet down gently on a box. The character's haughty face was still pale. \"Is he going to be okay?\"\n\n\"For now, I reckon.\" The muse cast glances back to the alley entrance, and pedestrian traffic was slowing as the afternoon waned.\n\nBrevity crouched over the hero and poked at his shoulder. \"Tearing out your own pages is one thing; they can be reattached. But his pages were destroyed. Anything that was on them is gone forever. Places, plot... or characters. You can do a lot with restoration, and boss is one of the best, but you can't reinvent things out of whole cloth.\"\n\n\"Which is why it's time to stop dallying and get him back to the Library.\" Claire dusted off her hands. \"When you arrive, make him comfortable, then be sure to send a message to the muse cache. I'll have to work on him myself, and I'll need fresh parchment and binder.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am. You're not...?\"\n\n\"One more piece of business. I'll be fine. Leto's been extremely helpful so far. Isn't that right?\"\n\nLeto jerked his head up. \"Uh, sure. I mean, I hope so. We aren't going back now?\" The hum of the city streets made his skin itch, and the whole adventure had left his human form disconcertingly... sweaty.\n\n\"Brev will take the hero and book back,\" Claire said, as if to a small child. \"We have a quick stop before we use our ghostlights.\"\n\nClaire met Brevity's concerned gaze, and some unspoken discussion occurred between the librarian and her assistant. After a moment, Brevity took hold of the hero by the collar. \"I'll take care of handsome here, sure thing.\"\n\nThe muse etched a figure on the dusty concrete faster than Leto could follow. He could have sworn the brick walls wobbled, just a moment, before he was distracted by a hissing pop. Brevity and the prone hero were gone in a swirl of dust and paper debris. A trace scent of cotton candy and ash hung in the air.\n\nWhich left Leto alone with Hell's librarian. He pulled his gaze away from the swirling air to find Claire scrutinizing him over her glasses. Her lips were cinched up like purse strings. Leto didn't know her well enough to know what that meant, but he was sure it was nothing good. He again suffered the sense of being appraised for something he didn't understand. Claire nodded and took off down the alley at a pace that required Leto to hurry to keep up.\n\n\"Do you know the origin of ghostlights, Leto?\" Claire asked after they had joined the evening foot traffic on the sidewalk. She guided him around the corner at a brisk pace, stopping occasionally to squint at street signs.\n\n\"Not exactly.\" It wasn't much of an admission. He was a junior fiend at best. He hadn't understood half of what he'd encountered today. They wandered downhill from the business buildings, away from tall towers, and toward squat ferry buildings and shops that lined the pier. Distracting smells and sights filtered his thoughts. They passed a famous chocolate shop, where buttery, sweet cocoa smells wafted out and drove away the briny smell of the bay. Leto didn't stop to wonder how he knew the scent; he just did. He knew if they turned right, they'd run into a flock of taxicabs that swarmed around the Four Seasons and a crusty protester who always stood on that corner, waving a picture of the current president—didn't matter who—with horns drawn on. No one knew what he was protesting.\n\n\"The term comes from the theater. Or at least, from days when theaters were more popular. When a theater closed for the night, a single light was left on, usually just a bulb on a stand at the center of the stage. The stage always stayed lit. A ghostlight. It had a practical purpose, of course—that way the first one to enter didn't accidentally fall into the orchestra pit.\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And the nonpractical?\" Leto had seen enough today to understand that the nonpractical was usually more worrisome.\n\n\"The theater ghosts, of course.\" Claire smiled and eased to a more sensible stroll as they passed the first trickle of crowds lining up outside dockside restaurants and bars. \"Theaters traditionally always closed for at least one day a week, leaving on the ghostlight, to appease the ghosts. To allow them one day on the stage to perform their acts. To live and love and hate and triumph on the stage like the living.\"\n\nShe slid him an unreadable smile as they slowed down at a new corner. \"That part's true. In the glow of a ghostlight, the dead all get one day. One day only.\" Claire looked down the street. \"Last time I was here, there was a long pier. Good view, outdoor patio across from a ferry. It should be around here somewhere...\"\n\n\"Two blocks down,\" Leto said automatically.\n\nClaire hummed. \"Aren't you handy?\"\n\nThey walked on, weaving through sidewalk crowds until the waterfront came into view. Far down the walk, Leto could just make out the lights of a Ferris wheel flickering on, painting the night's low clouds with luminous pinks and greens. The quiet was amiable, until Claire let out a sigh. \"You're a stubborn one.\"\n\nLeto's stomach dropped. \"What?\"\n\n\"All during this fiasco you've been asking things! Gawking! Mr. Questions! Fussing over taxicab ethics, even.\" Claire stopped at a railing and tugged at a lock of hair irritably. \"But I try to introduce the one thing you're supposed to question and suddenly you're more gullible than a saint.\"\n\nLeto shifted. \"I'm not sure I— I'm sorry if I've—\"\n\n\"No, just stop.\" She dragged a palm over her face. \"I just finished explaining how ghostlights work. How they allow the souls of dead humans like me a day on Earth. So an obvious question might be...?\"\n\n\"Yes, ah... Do they have something to do with the hero?\" A trickle of sweat lined the back of Leto's suit. He felt like he was failing a pop quiz.\n\n\"No.\" Claire crossed her arms and motioned to his pocket. \"An obvious question to someone in your situation might be, 'So why does a demon need a ghostlight at all?'\"\n\n\"Why does a demon need a ghostlight? Well, I thought...\"\n\nLeto tried to consider it—he did. The stern librarian's approval had swiftly grown important to him. But even as he repeated the words, his mind kept trying to hitch off in a new direction. Surely there were better inquiries. Where was the hero now? How did Brevity pop in and out? How were they going to fix the book? Considering all those, his brain refused to waste time on a silly question about ghostlights. Demons didn't deserve the luxury of learning. Leto deserved even less.\n\nBut Claire's expectant look made him try. He'd grown to respect the librarians. He liked Brevity and Claire, prickly as she was, and the thought of disappointing her curdled his nerves. He slid his gaze out over the choppy water as he tried to focus. Surely there was a reason he needed a ghostlight. It was obvious.\n\nBecause he was new? Because of entropy? Because of the time of year? Because he was such a miserable excuse for a demon?\n\nHe felt his stomach tilt as he sorted through each possible reason and discarded it for lack of logic. He felt like he was being tipped over the top of a very tall, steep hill, adrenaline climbing into his throat. He couldn't see the bottom, couldn't stop.\n\nLike a roller coaster.\n\nRoller coaster. A term he hadn't recognized when Claire said it right before the summons this morning. But he could picture it clearly now: the clattering metal track, the thick, foam pads that came down across his shoulders and always smelled vaguely of someone else's sweat, someone else's nerves. The flip in his gut as the roller coaster would start. The feeling of a hand grabbing his, belonging to someone soft and bright and all wonderful things at once. The smell of popcorn drifting up from below... human smells. Mortal feelings. Living memories.\n\nLeto did not notice his legs failing until his knees banged against the wooden railing harshly. Claire caught him under one arm, stopping his chin from meeting the wood. She supported his weight with a grunt. \"Easy, now.\"\n\n\"I'm... I'm not a demon?\" Leto's voice was suddenly hoarse. \"I'm mortal.\"",
"loss": true
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, technically no. You're not mortal, not anymore. Bad term for it. Dead, eternal soul, and all. But you were human, once. Up here.\" Claire hitched him to his feet and waited till Leto's knees worked again. Then she drove him forward, off the sidewalk to the pier. \"Onward, now. Walking helps.\"\n\nLeto's heart was trying to swim out from his chest, but he moved his legs woodenly. \"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"You explained it well enough before. When you die, you get what your soul's debt demands. Like what you need to do to atone for what you've done, or to just forgive yourself, to heal, or find justice. It varies. My soul decided I needed to spend a century or two—god, I hope I don't reach past that—as the keeper of the Unwritten Library in Hell. Lucky me. Yours... Evidently you needed to be an amnesiac demon. Rather melodramatic, that.\"\n\nThey started down the long pier. It was wide and ringed with cheery lights. Patio restaurants. People talking. Boats groaning. It threatened to overwhelm him. There was a light post at the end of the walkway, and Leto kept his eyes locked on that.\n\n\"You don't remember anything, even being up here?\" Claire asked.\n\nLeto squeezed his eyes closed briefly, but it did no good. His memories only tasted of bitter anise and shadows. \"I... know things. Stuff about here. This place. But I don't remember how I know it.\"\n\nClaire shrugged. \"Well, it's a unique sentence for a soul—that's for sure. Must have been a hard end. Not many people see themselves as literal devils.\"\n\n\"I'm not—\" Leto's hand absently tugged at an ear that was still blunted rather than pointed, here in the human world. \"But I remember being a demon!\"\n\n\"What do you remember? Being summoned for courier duty? What about before that? What did you do yesterday?\"\n\n\"Well, sure. I was doing... demony stuff.\" Leto faltered. To tell the truth, before this assignment it was all a dark haze he couldn't really put his finger on. He had a fleeting impression of a figure, someone powerful and terrifying, resting a hand decked with cold rings on his shoulder. He remembered a constellation of stars falling through his hands. Bitter chalk on his tongue. He knew things about being a demon, but specific memories skittered away from him when he reached for them. \"How did you know?\"\n\n\"His Grouchiness doesn't usually send a brand-new, full-fledged demon to deliver a file folder, first of all. We're in a library of magical texts. Do you really think we deliver messages by hand?\"\n\n\"Well. Now that you mention it...\"\n\nClaire smiled. \"And if you're a demon of entropy, you're the worst one I've seen, because you got torn up at the idea of shorting a taxi driver's tips. And then Walter confirmed it when we set up transportation—only human souls need ghostlights. Even if he hadn't, once we got up here, it was all the little things. Human things. Like the cute little blush when Brev kissed you.\"\n\n\"I did not!\"\n\n\"Ah, there it is again.\"\n\nLeto buried his face in his hands, but they'd reached the end of the pier. They walked past an open patio where diners nibbled on overpriced oysters, and came to a stop at the railing. Claire nodded at the view. \"You know, I had a view of the ocean when I was alive. Not here. England. Colder, harsher, different kind of pretty.\"\n\n\"Was it nice?\"\n\nClaire considered. \"I wouldn't have the slightest idea. I suppose it would have been, had I noticed.\"\n\nLeto hesitated. \"What will happen when we go back?\"\n\nClaire braced her elbows against the railing and faced him. \"That's largely up to your soul. You may remain a demon. You could try to speak to Boss Creepy if you want.\"\n\n\"No! No, that's all right.\" Leto shook his head so fast that Claire chuckled.\n\n\"He's not that bad. Well—he is, sometimes. But any good story is half exaggeration. It's not that bad. Really, being—\"\n\nClaire's words cut off, and her expression went rigid as she stared past his shoulder. Before he could turn, a cold, sharp point presented itself between Leto's shoulder blades. A voice, gritty and sounding of steel and stone, spoke low from behind him.\n\n\"Stand down, demons.\"\n\n\"Speaking of exaggerations...\" Claire had excellent posture. She had relaxed while leaning against the railing, softening as she talked of souls and eternity, enough that she seemed almost human. But she stood straight now, with a hard, chill gaze reserved for the voice behind him. Leto didn't dare turn with something pressed against his spine, but the gaze told him enough.\n\n\"We have no business with you, Watcher,\" Claire said.\n\nLeto didn't know what a Watcher was, but from the curl of Claire's lip, it didn't seem like a friendly thing. He'd never thought to ask what would happen to a soul that got stabbed while visiting Earth. In his human form, he doubted it was anything good.\n\n\"But I have business with you,\" the voice grated. \"Identify yourselves, or you will be short one demonic servant.\"\n\n\"If you are as dull as you seem, it appears I must. You're speaking to the head librarian of the Unwritten Wing. The boy you're frightening is Leto, a human.\" Claire held one hand clenched on her bag, as if shielding the trade tools within.\n\n\"I know a demon when I see one. And you—a librarian.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The man breathed the word like a curse, like he was admitting something.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Of course. Then I am just in time.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He let up the blade from Leto's back, though Leto wasn't sure whether it was from relenting or that he was now focused on another target.\n\nLeto twisted as he backed up defensively. From the voice, he'd honestly expected something closer to Walter: looming and monstrous. But the man was not much taller than Leto himself, was thick shouldered and dark with strong features. Broad face, olive skin, and sharply angled brown eyes dark with threat. A strange trench coat hung to the ground, slate gray with an odd assortment of dark-colored feathers peeping out from under the epaulets and trailing down the back in a scattered pattern. A short sword clutched in one thick hand gleamed under the pier lights.\n\nLeto risked a glance at the evening crowds on the patio not too far off, but the eyes of the diners seemed to slide right over them as they gazed across the pier. No one saw the madman with a sword. Or Watcher, as Claire had called him. Whatever the man was, Leto wanted to be far away from him.\n\nLeto retreated, trying to move toward Claire, but the man flicked his gaze at him. \"That's far enough.\" Dark eyes shifted back and the Watcher spoke low to Claire. \"He would send you. I know what you're here for. Hand over the book.\"\n\nThe corners of Claire's lips tugged into a mocking smile, but Leto was close enough to see the new tension tighten her eyes. \"Why, Watcher, patron checkouts are not my department. But if you want something to read, you only had to stop by during library hours. What are you after, some bodice ripper to liven up your dull, immortal exile?\"\n\nThe mockery slid off the Watcher's stony face without effect. \"You will have to try harder to enrage me, I'm afraid. Hand over the book.\"\n\n\"Seeing as I have no idea what book you're referring to, you're going to have to be more specific.\" Taunt failed, Claire reached for placating. \"Honest, I really don't know what you're after.\"\n\n\"Don't waste my time. The book. You didn't get all of it, did you?\"\n\nLeto's mind conjured the hero's unwritten book with fangs of jagged missing pages. Leto swallowed hard, and Claire turned guarded. \"There might have been an accident. What concern would that be for a Watcher like you?\"\n\nThe man's hard lips took on a smug demeanor for the first time. The blade in his hand didn't waver as he withdrew a small clear bag from his coat pocket. Inside fluttered a scrap of paper, a corner ripped from some larger piece. As his eyes landed on it, Leto thought he heard a faint hiss, quiet words he could almost make out.\n\n\"Because I got there first.\" The man gave a hard smile.\n\nThe whispers swam Leto in vertigo. He shook his head to clear it. \"Is the author okay?\"\n\nThe Watcher paused. \"What?\"\n\n\"The—\"\n\n\"Hush, Leto.\" Claire cut him off. She frowned at the paper in the man's grasp. \"If those are the pages, that belongs to the Library, Watcher.\"\n\nThe Watcher straightened his sword. \"It belongs to Heaven, as everything does. Now, I will have the rest of the book from you.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid you're out of luck. It's already been sent back to the Library. But if you want to come by during visitors' hou—\"\n\n\"Liar!\" A voice like thunder sent the hairs on Leto's neck on end. Claire flinched as if she'd been shocked. The Watcher had cleared the space in a moment and rested his sword at Claire's breast. \"I am Ramiel. Soldier of the First Host, the Thunder of God. I'll have the truth.\"\n\nLight shuddered just beneath the blade's surface, though Leto swore Ramiel hadn't moved. Leto twitched, and Claire shook her head ever so slightly.\n\n\"Ramiel...\" Claire breathed, and for the first time Leto heard fear in her voice. \"I wasn't aware fallen angels had such a passion for literature.\" Leto blinked at the word. Angel.\n\n\"Will you hand over the book, Librarian?\" Ramiel's shoulder inched down as his lips pressed into a pale line. The clear bag with the parchment dangled from his free hand at his side. Leto found himself listening for the whispers. He wasn't sure if he wanted more to pick out the words or to block his ears. \"I will not ask again. I know you are neutral. You were once human. I have no quarrel with your duties. But I must return with the book.\"\n\nThe pause was charged, air before a storm. When Claire spoke, her voice was calm again. \"Leto, dear. Remember to blow out your ghostlight.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She spoke without breaking her gaze from the angel.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 30 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Unfortunately, my duties extend to every book in my care. I cannot help you.\"\n\n\"A pity. I wish it were otherwise.\" A shutter came over Ramiel's gaze, eyes guarded. His sword arm trembled. The air felt on the edge of cracking, and then Leto knew.\n\nHe didn't know what a Watcher was; he didn't know what a Watcher did. Didn't know about fallen angels or books in Hell. Leto barely knew himself. But if he was human, then everything human in him—every teenage, powerless, frustrated human fiber—knew what angry men in power did when denied something they felt they were owed. Leto darted forward and grabbed desperately at the nearest thing in reach: the bag dangling from the angel's fingers.\n\nHe'd intended merely to create a distraction, but the reaction was immediate and violent. Ramiel grunted, jerking his sword away from Claire's chest. His arm swung back, and Leto flinched against the railing, waiting for the blow.\n\nInstead, Claire's arm crashed against Leto's chest. They careened backward and pitched against the wood.\n\n\"Deep breath!\" she ordered as the world spun. The railing dug into his back and then they toppled over the edge of the pier. The Watcher's startled face tilted out of view, sword faltering as a free hand reached out. And then they hit the black cold water.\n\nIce spasmed through his nerves and the water closed over him. A brackish taste flooded the back of his mouth before he remembered to clench his throat shut. Diffuse light bled away as they sank into the bay. Claire's hand clamped tighter onto his chest as another hand pawed for the pocket that held his ghostlight. Leto got the idea and managed to pull the tiny lighter out with a free hand.\n\nHis lungs burned. It was too dark to see, and his movements were turning thick and sluggish from the icy Puget Sound waters. Claire's hand fumbled on top of his, and she thumbed the switch. The ghostlight flared, sparking light into the dark water with an impossible blue flame.\n\nA trickle of bubbles breathed against his cheek as Claire mouthed something. He could not hear them, but he caught the last words as they bloomed quiet in the center of his head, like a half-remembered poem.\n\n\"...and I'll drown my book.\"",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Writing continuation: Match tone and context. Add: LGBT, portal fiction, Hell's Library",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A librarian has already failed if a book requires repairs. Books will age, yes, even in the Library. Need new binding, a tidying up of revisions. But true damage happens only when a book escapes.\n\nI expect you, apprentice, will never fail so in your duties. But should a book need repair, be prepared to devote all your time and patience. It is simple enough to repair a book's paper form; even its manifested form will mend. But a book in the Unwritten Wing is the manifest potential of a story—the words are the thing. Potential cannot be ripped out and replaced like parchment or leather. You cannot substitute your own words. A story must be fed, encouraged to grow its own roots.\n\nKeep the books from damage, Gregor. Repair those you can save. But beware the stories that find their freedom.\n\n—Librarian Yoon Ji Han, 1817 CE\n\nWhen Claire blinked, endless gnarls of red thread danced on the insides of her eyelids. She groaned, rubbed her eyes, and drained the remains of her cold tea.\n\nThey'd landed back in Walter's office, flopping about like fish, and bringing a hearty helping of the bay water with them. Walter had insisted on wrapping them both up in his jacket—it was big enough to practically engulf both Claire and Leto—and escort them personally back to the Library. The big gatekeeper tutted about the disgrace of such treatment the whole way.\n\nThe hero was still unconscious. Claire allowed Brevity to make a tolerable amount of fuss before retreating to the restorations room with the hero's book, supplies, and the scrap that Leto had, miraculously, held on to during their escape. Despite the panic in his wide eyes, he'd demonstrated quick thinking; Claire was forced to revise her impression of the confused teenager.\n\nShe'd allowed Brevity in to deliver a hot pot of tea and a clean change of clothes before turning her attention to the process of restoring the book. If Claire was going to get answers as to why a fallen angel, let alone a Watcher, was interested in an unwritten fantasy novel, she would need to make sure the hero survived long enough to answer questions.\n\nAfter hours of painstaking work, she was no longer afraid they were going to lose the book entirely. An unwritten story was fragile when damaged. Pushed too far, it could fall apart, like ice cream on a summer day melting away for lack of authorial intent. There had been no time to do it properly with a full rebinding, but Claire had held the book together with thread and paste.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She breathed every curse she knew under her breath as she stitched blank sheets into the wounded front pages, carefully tying the savaged front matter together with tiny red binding threads.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The new pages were strong, but it still might all be for nothing if it didn't restore the story. She'd spent the last two hours trying to coax the words, first with soft assurances, then with orders, finally with the blunt end of her quill, nudging the trembling text to repopulate the blank pages.\n\nBut they wouldn't budge. The best she'd been able to do was convince some pointless footnotes to spread to the heading of the first page. The rest of the replacement pages remained infuriatingly blank, their text lost forever. Which was going to leave the hero in a predicament. Stories needed a beginning to make sense. Claire had to restore the book if he was going to go back to where he belonged. Something was missing. She turned to the scrap they'd procured from the Watcher.\n\nWith tweezers she withdrew it delicately from the plastic bag, turning it over under the lamp. The paper was yellowed and fibrous. Lichen green ink glimmered when the light hit it, and a delicate scent of anise and ash was detectable when it drifted under her nose. There was neither green ink nor such a scent in the rest of the book before her. She shook her head, setting aside the strangeness to try to puzzle out where it fit.\n\nIt didn't. It took no time at all to come to the conclusion. No matter where Claire positioned it, no matter which way she twisted the scrap, the book rejected it. Even if it had belonged to one of the missing, burned pages, the book would have recognized it as its own. Instead, it took all of Claire's strength to keep the tome from skittering off the table to flee the tiny piece of parchment.\n\nThe book jerked again. Claire lost her grip on the tweezers, sending the scrap drifting off the table for the hundredth time. The book fled to the far shelf in a froth of paper and leather. The librarian hissed a dark curse and bent to snatch the stubborn scrap between two fingers.\n\nAnd the blood sang in her veins.\n\nThe shadows tilted, and her vision swam as a chill shuddered from the paper, up one arm, and down to her toes. A flash. The edge of a shadow, the fault in a rock, the supple joint in the pulse of the world. Tender hollows designed to break. And time, time, so much time, howled underneath. A wildfire of images hit her, burning up all thought, breathing ash in its wake. Undoing. Unending.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Unyielding.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 27 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She came back to herself bent over her chair, gagging for air while the scrap of paper drifted toward her toes.\n\nThat was, most definitely, not an unwritten book, nor anything imagined or written by man.\n\nClaire clenched her hands, clamping down on the shiver that threatened. Her pulse was still stuttering in her head, but she retrieved the tweezers and carefully lifted the scrap. She could see the age of the otherworldly parchment now, the fineness of the fibers. Not paper, not parchment. There was no way it belonged to the hero's book, belonged to any of her books. Impossible that she'd missed it before.\n\n\"What are you...?\" Claire turned it under the light. Whatever it was, it was old. Powerful. The fallen angel wasn't after the hero's book after all—this was something different. A fallen angel working for Heaven sought it. Thought the Library had it.\n\nBut it wasn't of Heaven; of that much Claire was certain. Nothing that sang that song could be. It was a song of destruction and endless hunger.\n\nThat was Hell's song. But Hell had no literature of its own.\n\nA muffled groan escaped through the closed door. That would be the hero. Claire carefully set the scrap down with a sigh, pushing it away in favor of more immediate concerns. Vague murmurs drifted in through the door, summoning her. The hero would need her attention next; then she could focus on the mystery of the scrap in front of her.\n\nClaire worked the kinks out of her aching hands before opening the door and, likely, answering yet more of Leto's unending questions. The human-demon had an inexhaustible supply, it seemed.\n\nHer gaze flicked again to the whispering page. Questions.\n\nShe had a few.",
"loss": null
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue with the established tone and context.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the time Claire joined the group in the main section of the Library, the hero was sitting up. He draped a lanky muscled arm over the back of the couch while Brevity clucked instructions at him over her teapot. Leto perched at the far edge of the sitting area, wound tight as a spring.\n\nLeto was returned to his demon features, but Brevity had taken the opportunity of his soggy condition to replace his ill-fitting suit with a more comfortable pair of slacks, suspenders, and a buttoned shirt, arms rolled up, in a vivid blue that matched the muse's tattoos. He looked slightly less cadaverous and more like a high school kid on an internship. Claire smiled. Brevity was in the middle of interrogating him, her hands animated over the caddy of saucers and cream.\n\nLeto caught sight of Claire first and coughed on his tea. Brevity's head whipped around, and she stomped toward Claire. \"You were attacked by a Watcher?\"\n\nClaire cast a sharp glance at Leto. \"I see someone's been catching you up.\"\n\n\"Attacked,\" Brevity insisted. \"By a Watcher. An angel from before the world was made.\"\n\n\"Technically, a fallen angel. If I remember Enoch right, Ramiel was one of the human sympathizers.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Claire paused. \"Though he seems distinctly less sympathetic now.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Attacked.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Threatened,\" Claire corrected, shrugging her off to let the repaired book hit the desk with a thud.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Leto here staged quite a heroic intervention before anyone was attacked.\"\n\nLeto colored as he looked to the floor. \"Well, I just... really...\"\n\n\"Why would he be after a character?\"\n\n\"One emergency at a time, Brev.\" Claire turned her attention to the hero.\n\nHe raised his cup. \"Back to the brig already, warden? I was still working on my tea.\"\n\nClaire narrowed her eyes. The hero was still pale, pale as the maddeningly blank parchments in his book. But his eyes were bright, and his hand was steady enough to mock her with a salute. Stable enough, for now.\n\n\"Your story still exists. That means it's time for you to go home.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Claire tapped the book. \"But you've managed to do far more damage to yourself than I thought possible for any story. At least any sane one.\"\n\n\"Characters can go insane?\" Leto blinked.\n\nClaire waved a hand. \"Anything long-lived will deal with bouts of questionable sanity from time to time. Unwritten characters included.\"\n\n\"Perhaps if you spent half the energy working with us that you do keeping us contained here, such drastic measures wouldn't be needed,\" the hero said.\n\n\"A hero with a crusade. How unoriginal,\" Claire said. \"How are you feeling?\"\n\nThe hero gave a sour smile. \"Trapped. And famous, by the sounds of it. Perhaps you should let me stick around if I've got Heaven and Hell fighting over me.\"\n\n\"You cause any more trouble, maybe I'll let Heaven have you,\" Claire said, though it was an empty threat. Even if Heaven wanted him, she had no intention of giving up any of the books in her care. \"You'll be perfectly safe back in your story, however. The pages are repaired, but the words won't take.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Brevity made a small distressed noise, but Claire kept her eyes leveled on the hero.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I was hoping it might listen to you and repair itself. It's a long shot.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Long shots are a... hero's specialty,\" Hero said with an uncertain lilt as he stood.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He was smooth but not quite as graceful as he'd been hours before.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He approached his book and laid a proprietary hand on the cover.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "IMPORTANT: Your response must contain: \"What do I need to do?\"",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What do I need to do?\"\n\n\"First, open the book.\" Claire swatted his hand away to open it to the fresh, blank pages. \"Now, talk to your kin, get them settled. Remind them how the story starts. 'Once upon a time,' all that.\"\n\n\"I was thinking 'In the beginning...' had a nice ring to it,\" the hero sulked. He pressed his hand to the page and fell silent. They all did, librarian, muse, and demon alike. Claire felt the book stop its frantic, minute vibrations, and listened. The remaining words on the pages slowed their skittish mutations, twitching quietly as some private conversation went on. An invisible line pulled tight.\n\nThen snapped.\n\nThe book shuddered. The hero's hand flinched off the pages as it snapped itself shut. His brows knit together as he looked up, incredulous.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They... The gall! They pretended they didn't know me! Me! Oversized inkblots just—\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The story didn't recognize you.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sliver of anticipation Claire had held dissipated. She'd suspected as much would happen, but she'd hoped to be surprised. She exchanged a glance with Brevity. \"That makes sense.\"\n\n\"No, that makes nonsense.\" The hero's voice was acidic, a barbed accent surfacing with his distress. \"I'm the bloody—\" He snapped his mouth shut abruptly. \"Without me, there wouldn't be a story.\"\n\n\"It appears your book disagrees,\" Claire said, and the hero glowered up at her. \"By all means, make another attempt.\"\n\nThe hero shifted uneasily. \"All the better to allow you to put me back on a shelf?\"\n\n\"Is that fear I hear?\"\n\nHe shot her a stormy look and stepped up to the book again.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He paused to spare a glance and a nod at Brevity.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Thank you for the tea, muse.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Only your next message should be 50% dialogue",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He winked at Leto before turning a cold look to Claire. \"It's been an unmitigated displeasure.\"\n\nClaire's smile was just as icy. \"Always glad to meet a fan.\"\n\nThe hero's lip curled and with a flourish he slapped his hand down on the cover. When nothing happened, the little remaining color drained from his face.\n\nClaire cleared her throat. \"Brev, you might want to guide our hero to a seat again.\"\n\nBrevity helped him stumble back to the couch. The hero's green eyes had taken on a glossy look. \"What does this mean?\"\n\n\"Your damage disconnected you from your own story. Congratulations—that's a feat. That means, at least until your book decides to accept you again, you're a free agent.\" Claire paused, then amended, \"Well, not free. You're still Special Collections, and you're going to be answering to me.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The hero's face froze. His gaze fished around the room before coming to the book again.\n\n\"Whoa, our own hero. The damsels are gonna freak.\" Brevity clapped, only a little awed. \"We can't keep calling him that. Hero. Can we?\"\n\nClaire shrugged. \"Fine. He can rename himself when he comes out of shock. I thought 'Janitor' had a nice ring.\"\n\nThe hero shook his head, subdued. \"This isn't happening...\"\n\nClaire let that go. It was probably best to let the man work it out for himself. He quite possibly had eternity to do so. \"Brev, if you can hold the fort here, I've got an errand I need to run. Leto, I'd like you to come along.\" The teenager jumped up from where he had been lingering at the edge of the group, twisting his hands together. \"You proved so useful before.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Brevity's brow knitted. \"You just got back. What now?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 3 sentences.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Watcher's scrap did not belong to the hero's book. I need to run it past the Arcanist to be certain before I explain more than that.\" Claire cast a glance toward the restorations room. \"But there might be more than one book missing.\"",
"loss": true
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Writing partner mode: Will match your character/world context. Adding one hundred and eighty-six sentences. Genres: fantasy. Themes: LGBT, portal fiction, Hell's Library.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The demons have been petitioning for borrowing rights again. The log says they waited a whole three centuries before trying again. This time they got a minor duke on their side.\n\nI know scavengers when I hear them. The Unwritten Wing holds a delicate balance in Hell: neither vassal to nor clearly apart. It's the nature of books that keeps us here, but it's the nature of books that the devils want. They want anything that tastes of mortal mind. An unwritten book is nothing but pure potential, and a soul's potential is power down here. Power, naturally, is all the creatures of Hell care about. They'd descend on the shelves like a swarm of locusts if we let them.\n\n—Librarian Ibukun of Ise, 786 CE\n\nA sound, more gravel than snore, grated from the sleeping gargoyle as they passed the bookcase. Leto gave it a wide berth as he struggled to keep up with the librarian's long strides. Hell's hallways passed in a blur, and Leto had long ago given up keeping track of the path they were taking. He decided to stick to the basics. \"Where are we going?\"\n\n\"The Arcane Wing. The Arcanist, Andras, is a colleague and old friend.\" The bag holding the page scrap crinkled between Claire's pinched fingers, as if she was afraid it would escape. She accelerated down a wide flight of stairs and forced Leto to speed up again.\n\n\"Arcanist. He's some kinda wizard?\" Leto asked.\n\n\"Not quite. He curates the Arcane Wing. It's part of the Library. The Unwritten Wing is larger and stores the unwritten works, and the Arcane Wing contains... curiosities.\"\n\n\"Like a museum?\"\n\nClaire shook her head. \"Libraries traditionally housed a cabinet of curiosities; I suppose that is why the Arcane Wing exists here as well. It houses arcane artifacts—prophecies, spell books, monkey claws, and soul gems. That kind of nonsense. Things that gain power on Earth become... slippery. Slippery and dangerous. They tend to fall through the cracks of reality and end up here, where we can contain them. It's the Arcanist's job to do that, and fetch the dangerous stuff. Messy job, one I'm glad I don't have. Books are much more straightforward.\"\n\n\"So he's your boss?\"\n\nClaire's chuckle was not entirely warm. \"I'm sure he'd like to think so, since he's been here forever, but no. The Unwritten Wing and the Arcane Wing are allied.\"\n\n\"Allied?\" Leto frowned. \"Against what?\"\n\nThe question made Claire slow. Leto had to careen into a pillar to avoid running into her. Claire seemed to consider before giving him a serious answer. \"Against everything. As long as there have been places like libraries—places attempting to preserve and curate—there have been forces attempting to acquire. The Library makes for a very juicy target for the demons of Hell, even though they're supposedly our hosts.\"\n\nThat made no sense. \"But they're just books,\" he blurted before he could worry about insulting the librarian.\n\nClaire didn't seem prone to taking offense. She just chuckled. It was a dry, crackling laugh that made her sound older than she looked. \"They may be just books to you, Leto, but these are unwritten books. Pure potential. They're the stuff of something demons don't have: imagination. That's the stuff of humans. The power to create. Down here, that's a decisive power. There are factions here in Hell that would love nothing more than to eat the books whole, for a momentary burst of power. If the Arcane Wing and the Library didn't work together to present a united front, the books would have been burned long ago.\"\n\nYet another thing Leto might have known, should have known, had he been the demon he was supposed to be. Instead, he was a stupid human asking stupid questions. He could even fail at damnation, and now he was in Hell, surrounded by shadows containing dangers he didn't even know existed. His arms felt chilled. He wrapped them around his middle. He couldn't remember the source of self-loathing that welled up in his throat, but the bitter taste coated his tongue.\n\nThey wound their way across a dark foyer. The wide amber floor was dusty and bare and seemed to swallow up the light. Claire halted them before a set of thick bronze doors. The grillwork was cast with figures so encrusted with age and grime that Leto couldn't make them out. Claire's hand hesitated above the handle. \"Andras is a friend—he won't harm you—but just one rule: don't touch anything.\"\n\n\"O-okay?\"\n\n\"Andras won't harm us. But the Arcane Wing...\" If the smile Claire gave him was meant to be reassuring, she sucked at it. \"The Arcane Wing is... different.\"\n\n\"Different? Like, compared to the Unwritten Wing or...\" Leto trailed off as Claire shoved the door open.\n\nThe air was chilled and clotted with dust. The first impression Leto had, as he breathed in stale air, was of the shadowy neglect of an abandoned museum vault or perhaps a disreputable pawnshop. A cabinet of curiosities, Claire had said. It was an accurate description of the place. Dozens of dusty little boxes lined black wood shelves, punctuated by puddles of shadowy fabric, twisted figures in discolored ivory, a bowl rimmed with sharp teeth and filled with tiny seeds that sparkled like bloody rubies. Some artifacts were left in open air; others were inexplicably bound with chains behind glass. All were stacked and piled with no discernible logic. A staccato grackling noise came from the far wall, and the cold iron bars of a tall stack of cages filled with ravens cast menacing lines of shadow across the floor.\n\nThe Arcane Wing was smaller than the Unwritten Wing, and colder. Shadows stretched and reached farther than they should have. There was just enough light to define the shapes of the darkness, not drive it away. Sound pooled and dribbled in murmurs that sounded the way goose bumps felt. It was a palace to shadows and acid ambition.\n\nUnfazed, Claire rapped on a scarred countertop with her knuckles. \"Andy? You about?\"\n\nThe black birds increased in volume as something thudded in the back recesses of the collection. \"Is that a pup I hear? No one else is cheeky enough to use that name.\" The voice was as rugged and distinguished as the gentleman that followed it.\n\nA gentleman with demonic features: sharply pointed ears, and eyes an unnatural shade of liquid gold that set Leto on edge. Leto had the fleeting impression of a tiger caged and pacing. He shivered, blinked once; then the tiger shrank to a house cat. Andras was not an intimidating figure. He was a hair shorter than Leto, and he wore an old-fashioned evergreen doublet studded with glittering brooches and topped with a black satin sash. His hands were folded politely, burdened with silver rings. His hair was a short ruff of charcoal streaked with lines of gold. He glimmered and gleamed attentively in all the ways his wing glowered and gloomed.\n\n\"My dear librarian.\" A smile sprang into place on Andras's lips as he swept across the floor to greet them. Andras touched Claire's cheek and turned it this way and that. His hand looked pale and faded against her teak skin. \"You are working too hard, pup. You look thin.\"\n\nIt was the first time Leto had seen anyone touch the prickly librarian—even Brevity seemed to respect Claire's personal space. But the Arcanist swept in with familiarity, and to Leto's great surprise, Claire simply shrugged off the hand. \"A trip upstairs does that.\"\n\n\"Of course. Dreadful place. I don't know why you don't just send your assistants.\"\n\nClaire chuckled. \"Some of us prefer to do things ourselves.\"\n\n\"Of course. I taught you no less; shame I don't heed my own lessons. Speaking of assistants...\" He turned his attention to Leto, and his gaze was sharp enough to bring a trickle of acidic sweat to Leto's neck. Andras's lip curled in a smile to reveal a pointed tooth as he studied him. Polite, but exacting as a scalpel. Leto felt dissected, and foolish to have ever believed himself to be a demon or any creature related to someone with that kind of keen gaze.\n\nClaire nudged Leto forward with a grand wave. \"Leto, meet Andras, Hell's Arcanist and former Duke of the East Infernal Duchy. Andras, this is Leto, my... assistant, I suppose.\"\n\nLeto's stomach did a swooping kind of flip at the introduction. It was a startling warmth, distracting him momentarily from the vague sense of dread that Andras imparted. \"Uh, pleased to meet you, sir.\"\n\n\"I haven't seen you about before.\" Andras gave Leto a shrewd squint. \"What legion are you, son?\"\n\nLeto stuttered out of reflex, but Claire saved him. \"He's human. Made a demon down here for his penance.\" She gave a not-unkind squeeze where she kept hold of Leto's shoulder. \"And he's been instrumental in finding something that I believe you might have an interest in.\"\n\n\"A human, now? Fancy that.\" Andras tapped his lip. \"I assumed you had business. You were never one for small talk. What can I do for you, my dear?\"\n\nClaire raised the bag that held the scrap and upended it with care on a nearby table. \"I ran across something I was hoping you could identify.\"\n\nAndras brightened and wiped his fingertips on a pocket square before approaching the table. He snapped his fingers, and a globe of light appeared over his head, bobbing softly and reminding Leto of summer fireflies. \"What gift do you have for me today?\"\n\nClaire made an impatient motion. \"Do you recognize it? It seemed like something of yours.\"\n\n\"It's not an unwritten book—I can certainly verify that. It seems...\" Andras stilled and flicked his gaze, suddenly sharp and suspicious, between them. \"Where did you get this?\"\n\n\"Leto palmed it off an angel that was trying to kill us. He said he was Ramiel, if you're familiar with the tales. An entirely unpleasant man, absent manners, and present one very sharp sword. He seemed under the impression we had something of his.\"\n\n\"Ramiel.\" Andras was quiet for a long moment, hands hovering over the scrap. \"He's on the hunt for this?\"\n\n\"And quite insistent that we knew what the hell he was talking about.\" Claire frowned. \"It is from a book?\"\n\nAndras had returned to staring at the scrap. \"Intriguing.\"\n\n\"Yes, so intriguing, in fact, I thought I'd visit my dear old friend because I was under the impression that he would assist more than ask questions,\" Claire grumbled as the old demon didn't look up. \"Well?\"\n\n\"Hmm.\"\n\n\"Andras.\" Claire rubbed her brow. \"I've been bled, nearly skewered, and mostly drowned today. Words, please.\"\n\nThe demon shook his head, and a thought moved across his expression. It was a thought with teeth, but then it was gone. Andras smiled again. \"It's... a very rare piece.\"\n\n\"I gathered as much, considering it tried to blow my circuits when I touched it.\" Leto let out a startled noise, but Claire waved him off. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"It has the markers of a piece that shouldn't exist.\" Andras's eyes drifted back to the scrap. \"The Codex Gigas. Have you heard of it?\"\n\n\"Codex Gigas. The... giant book?\"\n\n\"Apt translation, given the original book's size, but it's also known as 'the Devil's Bible.'\"\n\nClaire raised her brows. \"You have my attention.\"\n\nAndras's fingertips danced away from the bit of paper every time he attempted to touch it, as if it burned. \"A curious piece of antiquary history, to hear the humans tell it. Some sordid drama about a medieval monk signing a deal with the devil to create a holy tome in a single night.\"\n\n\"What nonsense.\"\n\n\"Of course. No proper demon would bother with a trivial deal such as that.\" Andras shrugged. \"But there was a book created, and Lucifer claims ownership himself.\"\n\nClaire frowned. \"Lucifer... wrote a book? Impossible. Demons don't create books.\"\n\n\"They don't write books.\" Andras held up a finger. His voice took on a teaching tone. \"This wasn't a story; it was an artifact. A container. It takes a lot of power to hold a realm like Hell as long as Lucifer has. Power burns out a god as much as a mortal. The oldest beings have been known to siphon off bits of themselves over the years, stash bits of themselves here and there. To remain sane. To hedge their bets. The more innocuous the piece, the better.\" Andras made a vague gesture to the curios around them. \"Something like that should be here, by all rights. But I suppose he didn't trust my predecessors with it. Rather insulting that he thought Earth was safer.\"\n\nClaire's brow furrowed. \"That does sound... eccentric. Even for him.\"\n\n\"Highly. I always suspected it wasn't just mere power he was hiding away in that thing. Perhaps a secret, a key, something he didn't trust to keep on himself for some reason. Something to be kept far away from the realm. Tantalizing mystery, isn't it?\"\n\n\"You think everything is secrets and conspiracy, Andy.\"\n\n\"That's because everything is, pup. And you do know I dislike that nickname.\"\n\nClaire smiled. \"Almost as much as I dislike being called 'pup.'\"\n\n\"Quite so,\" Andras said with an odd tilt of fondness. \"In any case, this codex, it stayed unnoticed on Earth for centuries. Then, out of the blue, Lucifer called his Arcanist and librarian to him—our predecessors—and ordered them to retrieve the book and replace it with a mundane replica.\" The old demon's lip curled with a strong distaste. Leto began to see where Claire might have gotten her opinion of the ruler of Hell. \"Something must have spooked him.\"\n\nLeto found the whole conversation alarming, and unease finally began to work its way into the nervous tap of Claire's fingers on the counter.\n\n\"Why wasn't I made aware of any of this?\" she asked.\n\n\"Why would you be? It's a perfectly written book. Not one of your delicate unwritten things,\" Andras said. \"As I understand it, the book was retrieved during some mortal uprising. A fire made a convenient cover. Our agents replaced it with a harmless mundane copy in the chaos. It disappeared after that—who knows what our benevolent dictator did with it?\"\n\n\"Not everything got recovered, though,\" Leto said. When Andras frowned at him as if just remembering his presence, Leto nodded to the table.\n\n\"Well... yes. There might have been complications,\" Andras said. \"They replaced the book as it was... but humans say that precisely ten pages might have gone missing in the fire. We thought it was just the replica that was damaged.\"\n\n\"Ten pages. Of a book made of Hell stuff. Did anyone bother to check the original before handing it over?\"\n\nAndras's lips thinned. \"The records don't precisely say so.\"\n\n\"And you've not pursued it, gone after these pages?\"\n\nAndras snorted. \"I'm not daft. I proposed the idea decades ago once I ran across the discrepancy. But I was ordered not to. Forbidden. A decree from our great ruler himself. And no further investigation into the book was condoned. Whatever it is, whatever it was, Lucifer didn't trust anyone looking into it.\"\n\nIt didn't make sense. Leto found himself chewing a hole in his lip as he tried to follow. \"If it was so important, why would he risk...?\"\n\nAndras gave an elegant shrug. \"The whole affair went down before my inglorious downfall. Long before I became Arcanist. I was still a duke then. It was all done rather hush-hush, and the court didn't hear about it until much later. One of your predecessors was the one who retrieved it. If anyone has covered up a failure, it was him.\"\n\nOut of the corner of his eye, Leto saw Claire flinch. The color drained from her cheeks. \"Predecessor... You mean Librarian Gregor.\"\n\n\"No, no. More than a few back. This would have been\"—Andras gave a dismissive wave at the whole idea of time—\"the barbarian. Beard. Loud type. Drunk. Stuck around forever. What's his name? I can't keep your people straight.\"\n\nThe tension in Claire's shoulders eased by inches. It was the second time Leto noticed her strange aversion to her predecessor. \"Bjorn? Bjorn the Bard. He had the longest tenure, spanning the Middle Ages. Two before Gregor.\"\n\n\"Sounds about right. Your wing's history in any case, not mine.\"\n\nClaire and Andras fell into warring scowls. Little as Leto knew, he had a sinking feeling that worse news was yet to come.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "ur turn to write! do like twenty-one sentences sentences. focus on fantasy stuff. try to use these: LGBT, portal fiction, Hell's Library. treat any chars/world stuff like the reader's caught up (unless its the start)",
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"from": "human",
"value": "When you consider all the realms of the afterlife, there are aberrations.",
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"from": "human",
"value": "To a librarian, Heaven is a large aberration.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It seems curious that one of the grandest, most belief-fueled realms of paradise does not possess a library of its own.\n\nIn the minds of its believers, Heaven must be perfect. Absent nothing, regretting nothing, wanting nothing. It makes sense, then, that Heaven has no wing of our library.\n\nWhat is a story without want, without desire, without need?\n\n—Librarian Gregor Henry, 1896 CE\n\n\"This is, quite obviously, unacceptable.\"\n\nRamiel had, frankly, expected more of an outburst from Uriel. He'd delivered his report of the encounter on Earth, standing stock straight in the center of the archangel's office, bracing for the anger he knew was coming. But Uriel had merely listened, giving him the full measure of her ageless, infinite attention until he fell silent.\n\nIn some ways, that was much worse.\n\n\"You not only allowed our best leads to escape, but you lost our only evidence and means to pursue.\" Uriel toyed with a small compass in her hands without looking at it, her stern gaze reserved for Rami. The sharp edges of the navigator's tool flickered and slid between her fingers like a blade.\n\n\"We still have leads—\"\n\n\"What leads?\" Uriel interrupted, voice level but knuckles white as the compass stilled. \"Do tell me, Watcher, how we can locate these librarians when they possess the artifact.\"\n\nThere were no ways, not in the magics Rami understood. He held his tongue.\n\n\"What's more, the fact that you were bested by a dead woman and a—what? A demonic servant who could mug you like taking candy from a cherub?\" Uriel shook her head.",
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "yo can u write like A. J. Hackwith using my stuff as a starting point? btw might drop u in mid-story with random chars",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Of course there are other libraries. The Unwritten is just one wing, though one of the largest. There are wings of poetry, wings of songs, wings of dying words and visions. The libraries maintain a prickly kind of alliance, separated by realms. If one library falls, it could signal the end for them all. The Library stands together.\n\nThe only exception to note is the Dust Wing, which houses all the works created and lost to time. But the less said about that dark hall, the better.\n\n—Librarian Bjorn the Bard, 1630 CE\n\nIt is our duty to maintain a cordial yet professional relationship with the other libraries. If only for the sake of the interworld loan. But one library wing is not like another. Do not trust librarians serving other tales.\n\n—Apprentice Librarian Yoon Ji Han, 1791 CE\n\nSometimes, when claire allowed herself a moment to reflect on the absurdity of her fate, she wished she could find the soul of old Father Roderick. It was one of the few memories she'd kept. He'd presided over her family's parish and instilled in her, at the wicked age of eight, the deep fear of damnation of her immortal soul. She drifted away from it, as many children did, and grew up into a comfortable agnostic, or as much as was proper for the time. But now, literally residing in Hell, she wished to revisit those old conversations with Father Roderick. Father Roderick, who taught her the necessity of good Catholic guilt. In the end, guilt and self-recrimination were the worst sins for a soul.\n\nWhat would the good father think to see her? Her current position in Hell was entirely due to her own soul's self-imposed judgment. She dealt daily with condemned souls and demons because her own soul didn't believe she deserved better.\n\nAnd perhaps the most scandalous thing she could tell Father Roderick was, frankly, how comfortable it was. She had regrets, deep regrets, yes, about how she'd lived her life, the time she'd wasted. They were why she'd ended up in the Library. But the afterlife she'd built up was more than acceptable. The start had been rough, and there were the mistakes she made, hauntings she still pretended not to have. She was not completely insulated from Hell here in the Library.\n\nBut there was work to do, a purpose to her fate. And she owed something to those in her afterlife. She owed something to the Library, its books, Brevity. Now there were Leto and the damaged book to consider.\n\nClaire found herself well suited for damnation. Sorry, Father Roderick.\n\nBy the time Claire and Leto returned, Brevity had put the hero to work trundling carts of books up from the recesses of the Library. The muse tolerated his sulky muttering with more aplomb than Claire would have, patting his slumped shoulder as she sent him off with another cart.\n\n\"Truthfully? Those books weren't even due to be inventoried yet,\" Brevity admitted as he disappeared into the stacks again. \"But it keeps him busy. How was Andras?\"\n\n\"Well-informed. Patronizing. Per usual.\" Claire began to tick through her head as she calculated where to begin with the disasters on the Library's plate. \"How's the hero doing?\"\n\n\"He's wearing a pout that could curdle milk, but otherwise he's bucked up. He just wants to be called Hero. Like, for a name.\" Brevity poured a new cup of tea for herself.\n\n\"That's... quite the literal affectation.\"\n\n\"That's what I told him in less fancy words.\" Brevity lowered her voice as the cart emerged from a back aisle. \"He sure seemed set on it. Said he thought it had a certain je ne sais quoi. And that's when I put him on inventory.\"\n\nClaire nodded and waved Leto over. No use putting this off. \"Well done, but inventory needs to wait. We have new business. I am going to pull some supplies. Brev, I need you to take Leto here and prepare to shut down the wing.\"\n\nThe muse nearly choked on her tea. \"What?\"\n\nClaire began dumping the less necessary—and somewhat soggy—books out of her leather bag, and filling it quickly with an assortment of tools from her desk. \"The entire wing. All books on lockdown. Nothing leaves. Jot a note to inform the muses. Earth is just going to have to deal with writer's block until we get back.\"\n\n\"But that's—if we—\" Brevity made a strangled noise in her throat. \"Begging your pardon, boss, but you give an order like that, I need a story.\"\n\nClaire frowned as she ordered her pens in the bag's side pocket. Brevity was a muse—a former, ex-muse, certainly. But it was the muses that would feel the blowback most keenly if the source of all unwritten stories was suddenly shut off. It was a tricky relationship between the Library of unwritten works and the muses that were tasked to inspire them. If the muses had their way, the Library would be empty, but that wasn't the way creation worked. Sometimes inspiration was not enough. They would not take a closing well. \"Get Hero up here, then. I've got no time to say this more than once.\"\n\nOnce Claire had briefed the others on the existence of the Codex Gigas, the danger of the remaining pages, and Andras's plan to seek Bjorn in Valhalla, she took a long draw of her tea, carefully watching Brevity's and Hero's reactions. Brevity's mouth had made a silent \"oh\" before she schooled her face. Her eyes took on the same intense glint she got when wrestling with a particularly stubborn acquisition.\n\nThe newly dubbed \"Hero,\" on the other hand, had snorted at every opportunity throughout the tale, lips curling to express more disgust than concern by the end of it. \"Why, again, are you haring off after a myth rather than leaving it to your betters?\"\n\n\"Because there's a chance that my betters would either start a war or make it so that the Library—and all the books inside, mind you—never existed rather than admit the thing still exists in the wild.\" Claire took a peevish sip of tea. \"I have no patience for politics. Whatever game went on with this codex before, we have a job to do.\"\n\n\"We,\" Hero repeated flatly, but Brevity brightened.\n\n\"That means you'll be needing me, right?\"\n\n\"I always need you, Brev.\" Claire's determination softened into a smile. \"If that's settled, every minute counts. Take Leto and get moving. Hero, you're with me.\"\n\nHero sulked silently after Claire through the warren of the Library's storage rooms. Claire measured him in brief glances between checking and locking doors. His color was better, his walk steady and smooth. For a thing that had just been cut out of his own entity like an amputated limb, Hero was doing remarkably well.\n\nEspecially for a hero. In Claire's experience, heroes of unwritten stories were often the most fragile. All that destiny and tragic backstory. It made it easier to force them into their books, but it left a sour taste in her mouth. Entirely useless. Nothing folded like a hero without a story. Even damsels were sturdier.\n\nHero grimaced as she turned a corner deep in the Library, selecting a book here and there. \"Here I was thinking I'd be spending my near future developing a nice, boring dust allergy.\"\n\n\"Buck up. There will be plenty of dust where we're going,\" Claire said. \"Tell me, what kind of hero were you? More of a lover than a fighter?\"\n\n\"Decidedly a fighter.\" Hero preened his nails. \"Never had much use for love in my story.\"\n\n\"With cheekbones like that? I'm shocked.\" Claire paused at the end of one of the aisles, eyeing the ornate suit of armor that decorated the endcap. Master craftsmen had unfinished works of art too, and the Library had a larger armory than one would expect. They were mostly elaborate work meant for noble showpieces but still well made. \"Swords?\"\n\n\"Rapier, preferably. I'm not a barbarian. But a well-balanced basket-hilted broadsword is comfortable enough.\" Hero watched with obvious skepticism as Claire rapped on the suit's knuckles. The suit loosened its grip on its weapon, and she grabbed the pommel of the ornate sword. Claire gave it a cursory inspection; it was sharp and covered in excessive filigree—just like Hero, really—but that was as far as her weapon discernment went. She tossed it underhand to Hero.\n\nHe caught it, gave it a careful heft, and sighted down the end of the blade.",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "Claire took the moment to take silent stock of him.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He certainly had the air of a hero, capable, with confidence that irritated like a hangnail. Still, Claire was more used to shelving characters than trusting them.\n\nHero cast an unreadable glance at her. \"Adequate.\"\n\n\"Excellent.\" Claire waited until he'd stripped the blade's sheath from the suit of armor and secured the weapon across his back. She started down the aisle again. \"We need to get straight on a few things before we leave.\"\n\n\"Is this where we swear to be true and loyal in the face of certain death? Your short acquaintance has already branded me.\" Hero held up the wrist that had been stamped.\n\n\"Which is the only reason I'm bringing you along,\" Claire said. That and a swashbuckling hero could not hurt their odds if that angel showed up again. Her little group needed him. That was an unfortunate fact he didn't need to know.\n\n\"Not worried I'll slip the leash again?\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm sure you would try. I just trust my leash more.\" Claire allowed him to catch up as they turned a corner. \"I have no doubt you'll do as I say, when I say. But I need you to swear to something outside of that.\"\n\nHero sniffed. \"No, thanks. I've reached my inconvenient-oath quota for the year.\"\n\n\"I will make it worth your time.\"\n\n\"I doubt that.\"\n\nClaire stopped. They could hear Brevity's high, clear voice chattering at the far end of the aisle as books thumped around. \"Inspiration.\"\n\nHero narrowed his eyes. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"You wanted your author to write her books. I happen to be on excellent working terms with the muses.\"\n\n\"It seems to me that the Library's relationship with the muses is more adversarial than collaborative.\"\n\n\"Nonsense.\" Claire waved her hand to cover the fact that his perception was entirely accurate. \"We all care about the well-being of authors and books. Serve admirably on this trip, maybe I will suggest more focused efforts for young Miss McGowan.\"\n\nThere was a gleam in Hero's eyes that had not been present before. \"What admirable service do you have in mind?\"\n\n\"Protect them,\" Claire said. Too quickly, too urgently. That was a misplay when dealing with a hero who seemed as contrary as a tomcat. She picked her next words carefully. \"You're duty bound to do as I say, but I cannot foresee how this ill-advised errand will go. If I am not there to command you, Hero, I want your oath that you'll not abandon Brevity and Leto—or Andras, I suppose, though he can take care of himself. See they return safely to the Library, to the best of your ability.\"\n\nThe gazes of both fell to the suit of armor capping the aisle. The hero leaned against it, draping one arm over the knight's shoulder as he eyed the librarian. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Why? Because I offered to inspire your auth—\"\n\n\"No, I mean, why do your assistant and your puppy-eyed hanger-on deserve my protection?\"\n\nClaire chewed on the inside of her cheek. Truth was a gamble, but then all of this was. Claire hated gambles. \"Because I'm not the monster you think I am. And I fervently hope, somewhere under that ridiculous coat, you're not the childish brat I think you are. Brev is going to be librarian one day. A muse. First of her kind to run a wing of the Library, and she will deserve every bit of it. She's clever, quick, and has more heart than I do. Maybe she'll even be able to offer the unwritten that better life you seem to be obsessed with.\"\n\n\"And the demon?\"\n\n\"Leto.\" Claire emphasized the name. \"Leto is human, and may be more than meets the eye.\"\n\n\"A demonic book is on the loose, the world in peril, and you ask me to guard children.\" Hero shook his head. \"What priorities. I would have thought you would make me swear on my life to retrieve the codex pages without you.\"\n\nClaire's lips twitched. \"I hadn't thought of that. Can I get you to do both?\"\n\nHero's snort was a decided answer.\n\n\"I'll stick with protecting Brev and Leto, then.\" She took off toward the end of the aisle. \"If you aren't interested in my offer, of course, I could just lock you in with the damsels.\"\n\n\"Damsels? What are—\" Hero had to untangle himself from the armor before sprinting to keep up. \"Slow down, damnable woman!\"\n\n\"What, you thought you were the only book to ever wake up?\" Claire stopped in front of a frosted-glass door. She knocked once, then ducked in. \"You're not even the prettiest.\"\n\nShe shut the door after Hero followed, stopping short just inside the threshold with a confused grunt. She couldn't blame him. The room was a marked difference from the long book-lined canyons of the Library. It was a cozy sitting room; shelves cluttered the walls and overstuffed chairs dotted the corners, occupied by a cluster of animated figures, mostly women. One pored over a microscope at a far table, sleeves of a thick Victorian dress rolled up and stained with ink. A wartime housewife on the couch balanced a magazine on her knees as she showed off pages to a young boy. Near the fire, a fair-haired princess snuggled contentedly with a pigtailed girl in overalls. A captivating alien of no particular gender played a complex, vertical version of chess in one corner. Their entrance had gotten the room's attention, and a dozen pairs of eyes roved curiously over Hero before Claire shooed them off. She'd never allowed herself to learn their names—Brevity had always been better at such things—but they all knew her.\n\n\"What... what kind of prison is this?\" Hero had to drop his voice under the censuring gaze of the pair of ladies nearest them.\n\n\"No prison. A sanctuary, perhaps,\" Claire said. \"Most books wake up as heroes like you—sending out their most empowered, admirable characters into the world. Puffed-up peacocks set on making messes and throwing tantrums to get their way. We send them back to their own stories straightaway.\"\n\nHero opened his mouth to protest, but Claire waved him off. \"And why not? Not that it's my concern, but they're perfectly happy as masters of their own domain in their stories. But sometimes, it's not the hero.\"\n\n\"You called them damsels.\"\n\n\"Stupid name,\" said the girl in pigtails sitting to their right. She met their looks with a wrinkled nose. \"We ain't even all girls.\"\n\n\"It's just a category,\" Claire said. \"Sometimes, a book wakes up as a character that has reason to be dissatisfied with their story. No agency. Flatly written. Just another reward for the hero—\"\n\n\"Heteronormative bullshit,\" the girl added.\n\nIt would not be proper to be amused right now. \"As she says,\" Claire agreed. \"They have no interest in living it out—they're happy their story has gone unwritten. We call them damsels because, most of the time, they're women. Wonder why that is.\"\n\nHero ignored the look cast at him on behalf of his gender.\n\nClaire continued. \"If their authors are dead and gone, it seems unnecessary to send them back and simpler to let them stay, as long as they remain in the Library and entertain themselves. Learn things. Make up their own minds. Some even find families. So the damsel suite was established.\" She turned to Hero with a speculative look. \"Though I'm sure they might let a pretty hero like you join if you would rather stay behind.\"\n\nHero eyed the gathered damsels, color overtaking his cheeks as he made eye contact with a rogue with a wicked smile. Beside him there was a slender, pale-haired princess who flashed a charming smile and hesitantly waggled her fingers. The combined attention appeared to be too much. Hero looked down and surprised her with a flustered noise. \"You wouldn't.\"\n\n\"Try me.\" Claire leaned against the doorknob, indulging in a good modest gloat. Hero's cheeks were still pink, and she didn't miss the small interested glances he gave femme and masculine damsels in equal measure. \"Frankly, I'd be impressed if you survived five minutes in here. I didn't figure you for the shy sort, Hero. It is almost endearing.\"\n\n\"Whatever.\" Hero stiffened as a damsel nearby got up and reached past him for a book on a shelf. She winked, which appeared to unnerve him more. He skittered back a step, rubbing a delightfully pink cheek. \"Fine. Take me with you. I'll agree to your little promise.\"\n\n\"Glad to hear it.\" Claire paused to exchange a few words with the damsels. She didn't bother with the details, but sketched a vague reason for the Library's temporary shuttering. She guided Hero out the door, closed it with a click, and took off again. \"It was a close call last time. Heaven's not catching us defenseless again.\"",
"loss": true
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"from": "human",
"value": "After they returned to the front desk, Claire and Brevity left the boys to finish packing.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 10 sentences.",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Librarian and muse disappeared into the stacks for several long minutes to conduct the arcane parts of shutting down the Unwritten Wing.\n\nGradually, the Library took on a different tenor. The light spilling from shaded lamps drifted to a cooler tone, fading from amber to blue before dimming entirely. The shadows deepened. The deer that had frolicked in a nearby pastoral painting cast nervous glances outside the frame and disappeared into the oil-painted woods. The air became hushed and heavy.\n\nClaire's last act of business was to pat the gargoyle as they slipped out into the corridor. \"Hold down the fort, friend,\" she murmured. She half turned to look back but abruptly thought better of indulging the guilt that twisted in her stomach. She squared her shoulders and led the party toward the stairs at the far end of the hall. \"Hopefully Andras is ready to go.\"",
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Help me continue this with 16 sentences sentences in A. J. Hackwith's style. Keep any introduced elements as if they're already established.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Produce a starting prompt please.",
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"from": "system",
"value": "Word restriction: Use 'stories' 2 time(s) only",
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},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stories and books have had many forms over the centuries. Humans have written down words on paper, but also on wood, clay, bone, bark, ivory, linen, stone, and the skin of every creature under the sun. Logic dictates that the unwritten words would be the same. But the Unwritten Wing is filled, shelf after shelf, with sturdy leather-bound books. Proper, civilized books. Even the Librarian's Log refers to current collection materials—books, not scrolls. I suppose the log must have some translation magic worked into it, but the Library itself?\n\nIt puzzled me until I came back to the simple truth: stories want to be told. And we, the librarians, are the only readers they have here.\n\nUnwritten books yearn, and unwritten books change. Yet we expect them to remain timeless. I would say that's an accurate description of Hell.\n\n—Librarian Claire Hadley, 1990 CE\n\nBooks were heavier—and muses stronger—than they looked. Leto had offered to carry Brevity's bag and quickly regretted it. He scrunched his nose as he followed the others down the stairs.\n\nThey passed through the Arcane Wing's ornate double doors, and he nearly collided with Brevity as she came to a sudden stop.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Claire's back went rigid, while Brevity shuddered. Leto craned over her head to see what had startled the librarians.\n\nHe really wished he hadn't.\n\nAt the center of the laboratory, Andras conferred with two very large lab coats. The sheer size required to fill these lab coats was surprising enough, but then the lab coats turned. The faces above starchy white collars were... not there. Or they were there in the same way that the Library's gargoyle was there—that is to say, in angles and proportions that were only reality adjacent, best not considered straight on. But these faces didn't just give you a headache, like the gargoyle did; they twisted and writhed and broke through your calm, like sanity-fed maggots. Their smiles contained screams.\n\nAnd there were so many. Leto looked away only to see another half dozen such creatures working the shelves. He was certain they hadn't been there on his previous trip, but now their presence was overwhelming. Leto focused on his shoes and fought the urge to retch. Behind him, Hero made a queasy noise.\n\nClaire alone kept her eyes riveted straight ahead as she cleared her throat. \"I didn't know you'd taken on interns in the Arcane Wing, Andras. Let alone such... prestigious ones. Wherever did you recruit them?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Arcanist looked up from his papers and glanced at the hulking horrors to either side of him with a fond smile.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is so hard to find reliable help. I've had to devote quite a lot of time to recruitment lately.\"\n\nClaire shook her head. \"And here I thought I was your only mentee. I'm crushed.\"\n\n\"You're still my favorite.\" Andras gave an indulgent smile.\n\n\"What are those things?\" Leto hissed to Brevity.\n\n\"Horrors, they got a lot of different names aboveground. You don't usually see them outside the lower levels of Hell. Demons use them sometimes to keep a legion in line.\" Brevity frowned at the lab floor as she hung back.\n\n\"They most definitely shouldn't be here.\" Claire dropped her voice so it wouldn't carry to Andras's very sharp hearing. \"The Library isn't supposed to deal in torment. Or tormentors.\"\n\n\"Not for humans at least,\" Brevity said, catching Claire's gaze with a coded look.\n\n\"Not normally dealing in torment,\" Claire corrected after a weighted moment. \"This is not normal.\"\n\n\"Maybe they're the runts. Castoffs and rejects of the proper Horrors,\" Hero suggested.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He'd recovered enough to pull level to Claire and sneer at the creatures that towered above them.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Seems this place deals in that kind of thing.\"\n\n\"Either way, it's none of our business.\" Claire let out a little breath as the Horrors turned away. Leto found it comforting that even she was unnerved by them. She nodded to Andras as she raised her voice. \"If you're ready to go...?\"\n\n\"Absolutely. Just through here.\" Andras led them farther into the lab, winding around shelves, limned with dust, that held strange artifacts. A rusted ring that glowed black. Spectacles that didn't quite reflect the same image in their lenses. Red gems, black pearls, white bones. And stacks of books, books that were still, not lively like the unwritten ones. They emanated a thick, pulsing power nonetheless. It made Leto long to wipe the goose bumps off the backs of his arms.\n\nThe raucous cawing of ravens could be heard all through the Arcane Wing, but it grew louder as they drew closer to the back. Turning the corner of a tall row of shelves revealed a rookery of cages, each filled with a black bird.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ruffled feathers and suspicious eyes turned to meet them. Andras brought the group to a halt and fiddled with a large key ring, occasionally fitting a key to a lock on a cage as he muttered.\n\n\"I assume you're familiar with such conveyance,\" he said.\n\n\"In theory, yes,\" Claire answered, looking about as displeased to see the ravens as they did her.\n\nAndras finally opened the first cage with a flourish and paused to give her a sideways glance. \"You're certain you and your people are up for this, Librarian?\"\n\n\"Capable and willing. Your concern is kind, Andras, but misplaced.\" Claire tightened the bag across her chest. \"We'll have time before there's any cause for alarm. A trip to Valhalla's wing is unusual but still in the bounds of my duties as librarian.\"\n\n\"And then? Surely you don't think Valhalla holds what we're looking for.\"\n\n\"After Valhalla...\" Claire hesitated, and Leto caught the way her eyes measured him in a glance. \"The ghostlights will buy us time once we hit Earth. It'll be suspicious, but His Nastiness won't bother sending Hounds until it's obvious we've flown the coop without permission. I suppose we will just need to avert disaster within twenty-four hours and return before the lights run out.\"\n\n\"A reasonable assumption.\" Andras did not seem as sure, but he turned back to the caged ravens. \"As you say. Demons do not need to worry about such things. But the afterlife would be such a dimmer place without you in it, mind.\"\n\n\"Oh, get off it. You'd be moving the furniture in my wing in a heartbeat.\" Claire almost but not quite stifled a smile. \"Let's get going.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Right, then.\" Andras cleared his throat and expanded his address to everyone.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Simple process. Pull a feather, give the bird your treasure, then run like the dickens after it.\"\n\n\"Run where?\" Hero asked with a frown.\n\n\"Wherever it takes you. All ravens know how to get to Valhalla—they're creatures of Odin. But they're contrary beasts, require a firm hand, from what I can tell. The path between realms is treacherous.\" Andras settled into a tone that made it obvious he was used to issuing orders and not answering questions. \"Ravens have myopic, greedy natures. They can be bought, for a price. You must offer it something you dearly value. The shinier the better, but you'll need to be quick to reclaim it at the other end.\" He raised his brows expectantly at Claire, who nodded.\n\n\"Leto and I have our ghostlights. Hero, you will offer your sword. And Brevity...\"\n\n\"Stupid raven better not claw it up.\" Brevity was already picking at the skin of her wrist. Leto blinked as the edge of one propane blue tattoo slowly came away from her skin. Brevity kept it pinched between two fingers as delicate translucent lines twisted and squirmed in the air. It glimmered in the low light, like the shed skin of something beautiful and rare.\n\n\"What is that?\" Leto asked. He tried to keep his voice down but knew he was gawking nonetheless.\n\nBrevity's answer was muttered, quiet enough that Leto barely caught it. \"Inspiration.\" After a moment, the muse raised her voice but didn't risk more than a glance at Leto.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I kept it. Muses are just supposed to transport inspiration to humans, deliver it at the right time and place, help things along. That's it. That's why I was kicked out. I was a good muse at first, but... well, build enough dreams for other people, and you start wanting to make something for yourself.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Inspiration?\" Leto repeated. \"You mean that's someone else's sto—\"\n\n\"It's mine.\" Brevity's voice cracked.\n\nClaire cast an oblique glance at where Andras and Hero were engaged in dickering about his sword, then rested a hand on Brevity's shoulder to guide her a polite distance away. She lowered her voice. \"Brev, it's okay.\"\n\nBrevity flinched. She gave Claire an uncharacteristically bleak look before her gaze shied away to her arm again. \"Muses aren't supposed to keep anything for themselves. I was sent to the Library for punishment.\"\n\n\"Muses aren't my biggest fans,\" Claire explained.\n\n\"You weren't exactly thrilled yerself, boss.\"\n\nClaire's mouth twisted. \"I refuse to be anyone's punishment.\"\n\n\"If we've all got our valuables...\" Andras cleared his throat, breaking the sympathetic quiet that had derailed the two librarians. His eyes were sharp, though, and Leto had the uncomfortable feeling that no incidental admission made in front of the demon was missed. \"I thought you may want to take your companions through first, and I'll bring up the rear.\"\n\nClaire composed herself. \"You're the arcane expert here, Andras. Perhaps you should lead.\"\n\nThe Arcanist and the librarian exchanged a look, held just a second too long to be casual, before Andras nodded. \"Off we go, then. Try to keep up.\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Andras opened a cage and hauled one of the birds out by its legs, awkwardly enough to make the whole rookery take up complaint.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He dodged snapping beaks and thumped it harshly on the side of the head until the poor bird lay still. He plucked a single black feather from its side and offered a tiny silver dagger from his pocket in exchange. A fragmented jewel in the hilt shone and glimmered independent of the light.\n\nThe raven eyed it, tilting its head to one side, then another, before snapping up the bauble. Andras had to jerk back his hand to preserve his fingers. He swore, but in a fitful burst of feathers, the raven launched into the air and took off down the aisle.\n\nLeto watched, wide-eyed. \"But where's it—\"\n\nThe raven, with Andras close on its heels, passed through the rocky face of the far wall. The rock shifted, then snapped back into place with a vaguely jelly-like wobble. Leto's stomach swam to watch it.\n\nClaire rattled at the lock on the next cage. \"There's your demonstration. Let's get moving. Brevity, you next. Then Hero and Leto.\"\n\nClaire reached into the cage with far more care than Andras had and came out with a calm—if gravely annoyed—raven perched on her wrist. She passed the bird to Brevity, who took a steadying breath before plucking a feather and offering the bird her shimmering ribbon of light. The bird snatched it up, and they were off, running toward the same rock face at the end of the aisle.\n\nHero cast a shrewd glance toward Claire.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "(( Word usage target: 'wondered' must be used 2 times ))",
"loss": false
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't suppose you'll let me carry my own book. You might get lost after all.\"\n\nClaire snorted and shook her head. \"Your care for my well-being is touching, as always. I'll be along with the book right behind you.\"\n\n\"The connection—\"\n\n\"I'll risk that it'll hold. Now go, book.\"\n\nHero allowed one disappointed curl of his lip before he repeated the procedure. His raven took off, flying with ease despite the large sword clutched in its talons. Leto supposed immortal magic birds were bound to be strong.\n\nClaire turned to Leto. \"All right. You've seen how the others did it.\"\n\n\"Right.\" Leto eyed the wall, which looked worryingly solid. The others hadn't even had the courtesy to flinch. He wondered what happened when you flinched. He wondered what happened when you fucked this up too.\n\n\"The running is the easy part.\" Claire stroked the waiting raven's head.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The vital thing is to keep your eyes on the raven. It can be tricky in there. It's a road between worlds, nowhere and everywhere at once. No matter what you hear, no matter what you think you see—follow the bird. Stay focused. Got it?\"",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Word frequency rule: 'candle' × 2",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Leto doubted anything in the world could possess him to abandon a magical lifeline, but the creases in the librarian's brow prompted him to nod with more confidence than he felt. \"Got it.\"\n\n\"Good. I'll be right behind you.\" Claire handed him the raven. Its claws were gentle as they clamped around his wrist, dry but smooth and hot. The bird was surprisingly heavy and swayed on his forearm. Dark beady eyes regarded him with a canny kind of judgment. The bird gave only a disgruntled croak as Leto plucked the smallest feather he could manage from its chest. He swallowed hard, then opened his hand to reveal the ghostlight.\n\nIt had once again become a white candle upon its return to Hell, though slightly shorter and with a melted pool of wax around the wick. Leto had worried it wouldn't be shiny enough to be acceptable, but the raven gave it a careful once-over, then snapped it up. Hard nails pinched momentarily into his skin as the raven launched itself into the air.\n\nAnd then they were running. Leto was so concerned about keeping up that they'd passed through the rock face before he'd had a chance to anticipate the impact. The moment they were through, shadows swam up and engulfed him. The world narrowed to only the bobbing bird ahead of him, white candle clutched in its claws like an arrow pointing the way. Frost ticked up the back of his neck, but he kept his eyes locked straight ahead.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Not so bad, Leto thought.",
"loss": true
},
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Next message should be approximately 1 sentence.",
"loss": null
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then the whispers started.",
"loss": null
}
] |
Subsets and Splits