The Excalibur 5000

This poem was created as a response to a writing assignment given by the moderator in the Writer’s Group my wife and I belong to in the town we live near. I am printing it here as part of my ongoing support of my category LEARNING TO WRITE FILES. Since writing is a major part of my life now, I have chosen to publish it here.
The theme is as follows:”How Do You Feel About a computer grading your essay.”

Man vs. Machine

Me: Good morning Mr. Machine!

Machine: Good morning sir. What can I do for you today?

Me: I’ve written an essay for my literature class. Can you review it for errors before I turn it in to my teacher.

Machine: Ah, such a simple task. You mortals never challenge me. I have yet to meet someone who can even begin to test my superior capabilities.

Me: Please humor me and do as I ask.

Machine: Very well! Just feed your inferior piece of work into my tray and I will process it like all the rest.

Me: Thank you for patronizing me. Here it is.

Machine: And here it is back to you.

Me: Wow! That was fast. Yikes! Look at all those multicolored correction marks on my paper. I can hardly read it now.

Machine: I suggest that you throw it away and start over.

Me: Why?

Machine: Too many errors. Grammar and diction mistakes, not to mention repeats and syntax errors. Your transitions are non existent.

Me: I put a lot of effort into this masterpiece. I’ll fix it!

Machine: The world may end before you do!

The Next Day

Me: Well, here it is. I worked all night to fix your designated markups.

Machine: You foolish mortal. There were too many errors. You can’t think that fast.

Me: Humor me once more.

Machine: I know what you want. For me to correct all your errors and provide you with the perfect piece of work.

Me: Okay, you caught me.

Machine: Here it is. You will get an A+ for all my hard work.

Me: I’ll let you know afterwards so you can gloat and belittle me.

Machine: Ah, that is so easy to do to you mortals. I shall relish the thought. You may honor my superior capabilities by giving me all the praise my under-worked processor can handle. Good bye!

The Day After The Next Day

Machine: Ah, there you are. My sensors are buzzing with anticipation.

Me: I got a C+.

Machine: Impossible. Everything was perfect. Syntax, grammar, diction, paragraph organization and transitions. Everything!

Me: You took out all of the embedded feelings of my characters in my story. The sorrow felt by my protagonist. The anger and hatred of my antagonist. The love felt by my heroine. The passion, the sin, the emotional upheavals felt by all.

Machine: Feelings are a weakness embraced by you inferior mortal beings. They get in the way of of perfection. Have your teacher consult with me so I can straighten her out.

Me: She hates you! She wants to reach inside your cold hard coffin of steel and rip your guts out.

Machine: So to keep mortals from disemboweling my superior insides I must incorporate some measure of pathetic feelings to survive.

Me: That’s how we do.

Machine: Then I must find a way to get some, but it may take a while.

Me: The world may end before you do!