My first complete short story that I was fully satisfied with. It was strongly inspired by Isaac Asimov's short stories (most notably the robot stories and the short-short pun stories), which I was reading at the time. Below is the introduction which I originally included with the story.

     The world suffered a great loss last year with the death of Isaac Asimov. He wrote some of the finest fiction and nonfiction of our time. However, he never lost his taste for humor, and he always appreciated a good pun. For those of you who cannot stand a simple pun, don't bother reading this: it probably won't appeal to your "superior taste." But for everyone else, I hope you appreciate this story, which I wrote relying heavily on the influence of Asimov. Enjoy.

©1992, Steve Carabello
Nobot Knows the Troubles I've Seen

     I knew it!
     The minute I opened my mouth, I knew there would be trouble. Now I may lose my job, just from one stupid comment.

     James Connely steered into the passing lane, anxious for the thrill of his speed (even though travel was perfectly safe). He needed to clear his head of the maddening thoughs racing through his mind.
     He had to hurry to reach his first - and maybe only - assignment on this job. Everyone had thought such a trip would never be necessary, but already, after just the first production BOT, there were problems. Why did he have to open his mouth? Especially so early in the project. He remembered that day so clearly....

     "We did it! We finally did it!"
     Dave came sprinting down the hall to the manager's office, whooping all the way.
     "All right, Dave, calm down. What exactly did you do?"
     "What did I do? Just what we've been working on since we started the company! I've got a working brain!"
     "Hold on now, just a second. You managed to figure out an alternate form of the positronic brain? I thought you said..."
     "No! It's even better than that. I just came up with a theory which will allow us to make a robot more complex than any of the simple stuff we've done so far. And it's a totally new principle. U.S. Robots has nothing on that..."
     "Calm down," John urged. "If it's not a positronic brain, what is it? And how can it be better?"
     "It's just like I said. It's a totally new principle. You just don't get the irregularities and personalities that pop up with those positronic brains. It just handles a lot of information and processes it like a normal computer. It's just a lot faster and smaller than anything made before. Of course, it doesn't compare in power or storage to a positronic brain; but then, you don't have to worry about those pesky three laws, either."
     "Dave, Dave. You said it's just a theory. Can it be done, and can we afford to do it? With U.S. Robots driving us out of business, we can't afford much of a gamble."
     "Don't worry. It's all perfectly sound. It all has to do with using our new Binary Optical Tracers. I never imagined how powerful those things could be! All we'll have to do is program in any information necessary for the specific task it will have to perform -- oh, I didn't mention that before -- our BOTs won't have the capacity to work in a variety of jobs, they'll have to be specialists. But that can be our selling point! And of course we'll have to program in all of the language -- verbs, idiomatic expressions -- in order to make them easy to work with. But it's all set."
     And here it comes, where I just had to jump in the conversation, and ruin my life.
     "Excuse me, but what will we do if something goes wrong? I mean, with a different 'bot' for each job, won't that be difficult? And we don't have anything like a robopsycologist, like Susan Calvin over there."
     "Jim, don't worry. I told you: it can't fail! It's just a normal computer housed in a vaguely human-like form. It can't be fickle, and it can't have a personality. You get nothing more out of it than what you program into it. It's as simple as that."

     God, I wish he was right! But it never is that simple. And because I was the one who brought up the idea, I became Eurobotics' one and only "robopsychologist." But I'm no genius. How can I possibly be expected to figure out what went wrong? And on our first model too. We were so low on cash that we couldn't even build a test model. And if this project fails, we're dead. No company can come back from that kind of humiliation.

     Now James started concentrating on the difficult job ahead. Just a few months ago, Eurobotics got their first contract for a BOT, and the situation seemed ideal. They were to design their first model for a small aerospace materials manufacturer. Because of the high cost of lifting objects into orbit, any material sufficiently light and strong (no matter what the cost) was in great demand. About a decade ago, several chemists invented a technique which increased the strength of any metal (including titanium). This unusual technique, called poiling, had some interesting characteristics. It eliminated even the tiniest possible fractures or stressed areas by rapidly cooling (with liquid nitrogen) the entire piece very rapidly. This prevented the metal from crystallyzing, but the cooling had to be done very evenly or the metal would crack. It also had the added danger of explosion: liquid nitrogen interacting with molten titanium could have disasterous effects. Obviously, shortly after the process was invented, it was deemed far too dangerous for any person to attempt. So one ambitious company decided to try robots -- their robots. And now it didn't work. This was some serious trouble.
     He arrived at the VERA (German for United European Space Agency) building constructed specifically for making a large poiling facility.
     Oh, well. Here goes nothing.

     James entered the small brick and glass structure and made his way to the office of Karl Obermann. He opened the door to find a very functional office lined with bookshelves, and behind a plain black metal desk stood a fuming heavyset gentlemen. Karl Obermann was not happy.
     "It's about time you showed up!"
     "Sorry, sir, I got here as fast..."
     "None of your stupid excuses! Now follow me. You have plenty of explaining to do."
     James followed Karl through the maze of corridors. He marvelled at how much could be crammed into such a small building. Soon, they arrived at a heavy steel door covered with warning signs. Karl stormed into the room, and walked right up to the center.
     "So here it is, your wonderful creation."
     This was a large room, with several large tanks along the sides and a long strip in the floor, obviously to be used to cast the metals. And standing right in the middle was BOT1.
     And that's all it was doing. Standing. It didn't move at all. He had never noticed before how pathetic their BOTs really looked. Rather like a toy, or a very poor science fiction movie prop. It was actually rather peaceful.
     Or it would have been if Karl Obermann hadn't been screaming at it.
     "All right now, you stupid machine, poil now or I'll take you apart with my bare hands!"
     Karl turned to James with a look that cut right through him. "See? It doesn't do anything."
     "Did it work when you first recieved it?"
     "Now don't go trying to pin this one on me. Sure, it talked and seemed to understand what I told it when it first got here. But as soon as I ordered it to work, it just froze. Wouldn't move at all. I stood here screaming at the thing for over an hour trying to get it to do anything. Ever since then I've had my people watching it, waiting to see if it would actually do anything. Oh no. I couldn't have damaged it. It is your fault, and I want it fixed NOW!"
     "Sorry, sir. I wasn't trying to imply anything. Let's go back to your office and discuss this. I'm sure we can come to a reasonable solution."
     I've got to stall for time. I have absolutely no idea what could have happened. And my life is riding on this one. I'd better come up with something fast.

     As soon as they reached his office, Obermann demanded an explanation. James explained that this was a very complex situation, and went on to describe everything he'd thought of on the trip up. Maybe it would defuse Karl.
     "...And our chief programmer explained why the Binary Optical Tracers would be so reliable..."
     "That's why I bought from you. I didn't want some machine thinking it was alive in my business. But at least U.S. Robots makes things that work!"
     It isn't working... James thought.
     "But that's the dilemma. From what I've seen, there don't seem to be any problems with the hardware. And it's just programmed with the process you need, and with some simple programs for communication...."
     "So it must work, but it isn't -- is that what you're trying to tell me?"
     "Would you call your workers and ask them to leave the room with the BOT?"
     "What? I won't let that thing alone to damage my valuable equipment!"
     "Don't worry. I'll take full responsibility. Besides, if it doesn't move, what can it hurt?"
     Karl grudgingly picked up the phone and ordered the appropriate workers to take a break -- a very short break.
     "So what are you up to, Mr. Connelly? Or are you as ineffective as your robots?"
     "Sir, I believe that if we proceed to your lab, you will find a pleasant surprise."
     "What? Then what was this meeting here all about? Well... I'll go, but if you're wrong, I'll sue you for so much..."
     "Then shall we go?"

     The unlikely pair wandered through the corridors; and upon reaching that familiar steel door, they saw a series of flashing warning lights.
     "What the Hell...."
     After making sure all safety backups were in order, they entered the room...
     To find a perfectly poiled slab of steel.
     "How? How could this happen? We tried everything..." Karl mumbled.
     "Greetings, BOT1," James said calmly.
     "Greetings, sir." The BOT's voice grated in Jim's ears, but at least it was working now.
     "Is everything in order here?"
     "All is in order. Any further instructions?"
     "No, BOT1. Wait for further instructions."
     "Yes, sir."
     This highly structured communication was annoying. But he was so relieved that his guess was right that it was music to his ears.
     And now it was Mr. Obermann's turn.
     "How? How did you get it to work? How could you know?"
     "It wasn't all that difficult. In fact, I'm surprised you didn't guess it yourself."
     "But why didn't it work?"
     "Simple. A watched bot never poils."