Essay by darkl0rdHigh School, 10th gradeA+, January 1997

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'Bzzz! Bzzz!' The alarm went off, and Susan Calvin rolled over. It was 6:30 in the morning, and RoboTimer® had done its job admirably, waking her up to the second of the time that it had been factory-programmed. Unfortunately, it hadn't been set to the correct date, and when it announced 'Saturday, December 14th! Good morning!' in a load cheery tone, she groaned out load with the realization that it was Saturday, and after that affair with the hyperdrive motor, she wanted to sleep in, since it she had just come back to earth.

'I hate this stupid robot!' she yelled out loud, then suddenly closed her mouth. For Susan Calvin had just remembered that her pact with the satans, as she thought of them, known to the robotics world as the team of Powell and Donovan. She stretched, rolled out of bed, and went downstairs, wrapping a robe around her as she went, to get some coffee.

'Well, since I'm already up, I might as well take a look at the rest of those Rasssjemani-Quazaric-Smith Equations and see why they were causing all those robots to go psycho,' she thought. 'Good thing that U.S. Robots and Mechanical Men hushed up that little incident, I'd be out of a job if the whole world, the xenophobic and primally-fearful lot of them, knew about that!' As she got out and buttered her toast, she mulled the day ahead of her in her mind. Weekends were never truly weekends for Susan Calvin, as she was forced to work for most of the weekend, with her only respite being Sunday, which she was allowed to come in an hour late for. However, she usually found herself working late into the night on Sundays, out of an artificially induced guilt that she knew...