Out With the Old, In With the Better(Austin Prentice) “Out With the Old, In With the Better”
By: Austin Prentice


In the future, everything was clean. In the future, everything was organised. In the future, everyone knew their place, and everyone had a place. After the world was nearly destroyed in what is known as ‘The Great Boom’, the remaining humans grouped together and created a new society. Using the last remaining book in the world, they built their new society in the form as what Marx had called Communism. The property was dispersed evenly among the people, and the people elected a select few to lead them, and hand out the resources. That was 500 years ago. Now, the world-wide country known as Marxia was a prosperous and beautiful place, much like before time. The economy prospered. Since there were no business owners, there could be no wealthy. Since there were no wealthy people, there were no poor people. Since there were no poor people, there was no poverty. If someone wanted something, everyone got it. If a man wanted a television in his room, the government would start manufacturing televisions, and then they would be distributed to the public. If a man wanted an automobile, then the government would distribute automobiles to the public.

Since there was only one government, there were no wars. Since there were no wars, there was no violence. Since there was no violence, there was no crime. Each and every citizen was protected by the People’s Protectors, the only police force left on the planet. Every person had a job to do. A son born to a man and woman would one day take over for his father when he grew too old to work. That son would then one day have a son of his own to take his place, when he himself grew too old. No one sought a new job, and no one lost their job. Positions were held for life until retirement. Some people got to keep their jobs for a long time, while others did not get to keep theirs that long, depending on the amount of labor. A politician, groomed from childhood to one day possibly lead the world from a small pool of applicants, could live to be almost 100. A simple rock-cruncher however, would be lucky if he lived to be 50.

While there may be small men, there were no small jobs. Every job was just as important as the next job. The politicians had the responsibility to give people the things that they asked for, while the bakeries supplied the rock-crunchers with food. The rock-crunchers would then move across the planet and clear debris and rock left over from ‘The Great Boom’, thus opening up more living space for the rapidly-growing human race. Advancements in science were great, with new labor-saving devices being created each month to clean the world faster than ever; and thanks to cloning, man’s best friend had risen from the ashes of extinction...

Jackson stepped forward as the line moved. Today was the day that the government was finally giving everyone their very own dog. A man smiling ear-to-ear walked down the end of the line with a small white dog with brown spots on a leash.
“So what kind are you thinking of getting?” Rupert asked Jackson from directly behind him.
“I don’t really know.” Jackson replied. “What kinda are you thinking of picking up?”
“Well Clare wants one of the little brown ones with floppy ears. I like the big gold ones myself.” Rupert said as he stood on tip-toes to peer over the heads of the people in line.
“I think the signs call it a ‘labrador retriever’.”
“Fitting since these things were grown in a lab.”
“Indeed.” Jackson said as Rupert stepped back down to normal height. The line moved again. Overhead a sign read “Wait Time From This Point: Fifteen Minutes”. In small lettering, a message went on about how the time was only an estimate and should be correct barring any unforeseen circumstances. Another man walked by with two dogs following behind him, both panting happily. Following him, a man in government-issue coveralls walked forward with a bullhorn.
“Attention everyone! We have run out of dogs-” the man was cut off by a cry of outrage from the crowd. “FOR TODAY. They take a bit of time to grow, so it’s not like we can churn them out the way we can televisions or exercise machines. Come back tomorrow and we’ll have a fresh shipment in. Hail the Government!” the man concluded as he held up his fist.
“Hail the Government!” the crowd yelled back. The man turned his bullhorn off and walked away as the crowd started to disperse. Rupert scratched his stubbly beard as he chuckled.
“Well, I’m in for it now. I promised Clare that I’d come back with some dogs, and instead I’m coming back empty handed. Maybe you should come by and have dinner with us. You know she always goes easier on me when I’ve got you around.”
“Ah, yes.” Jackson said, laughing. “Rupert and his idiot little brother. Sorry, but I’ve got work tomorrow. You know how it is.”
“Yes. Rock crunching. Exhausting work. Thank Marx that I was the first-born. I wouldn’t last a day in that field.”
“I know. You never won any of our physical altercations.”
“Exactly! Well, goodnight to you Jackson.”
“And you, Rupert.” Jackson said as the two men shook hands. Rupert departed and walked toward his home, whistling tunelessly to himself. Jackson checked his watch and then left himself.

After a short walk, Jackson arrived at his apartment. With a jingle, the keys emerged from his pocket as he unlocked the front door. Stepping inside, Jackson looked around at the beige colored walls littered with photographs of himself and Rupert with their parents. Sitting in the nearby corner was a TV set which clicked on automatically at 6:01 PM every night for the mandatory news. On the other side of the wall lay a bedroom with a queen sized bed and a walk-in closet. Hooked on a peg in that room was a calendar with all of the important dates pre-written on it. Jackson looked at what was coming up in the week.

13th- Dog Handouts: 4-6 PM
15th- Mandatory Marxianity Service at Local Worship Hall: 5-7 PM
19th- Mandatory Marxianity Service at Local Worship Hall: 9-11 AM,
Mandatory Marriage Sign-Ups for 22 Year-Olds: 1-4 PM

Wait, what? That can’t be right. Jackson shook his head and checked the calendar again.

19th- Mandatory Marxianity Service at Local Worship Hall: 9-11 AM,
Mandatory Marriage Sign-Ups for 22 Year-Olds: 1-4 PM

It was almost here already. The day he had been secretly dreading for years. Every years, those that had reached the right age were required to sign-up for mandatory marriage so the human race could continue to repopulate. If one was not romantically involved with someone by that point, then they would be paired up with someone of similar standards. Rupert had done this three years ago, as he was three years older, and had been partnered up with Clare. Every person was required to do this, and there were very few exceptions, notably if someone was ‘defective’. Jackson remembered asking his Intermediate Learning Teacher about the subject.
“Why are people forced to get married?” his 7 year-old self had asked.
“So the human race can repopulate!” Mrs. Tills, a cantankerous old bat, with blue hair and a face full of warts had screeched back at him. “After The Great Boom, there were a meager four-thousand fifty two humans left. Now, there are approximately one-point-six million people. Before The Great Boom, there were close to eight billion people on the planet!”
“What happened to all of them?”
This question did not amuse Mrs. Tills, who had gone over that subject just two weeks prior. He had been sent to the principal's office for his ‘ignorance’ and had received a swat at home. Jackson sat down on the bed and rubbed his face. How could this date already be arriving? A better question though, is how could he get out of it? He could refuse to participate. No, he’d just be arrested. He could run away. No, he had no idea how to survive in the wild, and the planet still wasn’t the most hospitable place to live in most areas. Before he could think further; the doorbell rang. Jackson looked up at the clock. 5:58; dinner had arrived. Jackson walked up to the door and opened it, revealing a robot holding a dinner tray. The robot’s chassis was lined mainly with red while the photoreceptors glowed white. A yellow star containing the symbol of the government was visible on the chest plate. Beside the symbol, the robot’s identification number read BZ-RR.
“Your dinner, sir.” the robot buzzed through it’s vocabulator.
“Thanks BeeZee. See you tomorrow.” Jackson said as he took the tray. The robot nodded and wheeled off on its singular wheel as the door shut. Jackson moved into the living room as the TV clicked on. On the screen, a man with a bushy white moustache and round glasses sat behind a desk with a stack of papers in his hands.
“Hello, and good evening. I’m your host Walter Williams, and this is the Evening Government News.” the man said as Jackson took a bite of mashed potatoes. “First off tonight, the Director of Cloning Operations formally apologized for the lack of dogs available for people to pick up around the globe. In a statement he said that, and quote ‘I am terrible sorry that not everyone was able to get what they were lawfully given by the government. For those of you that are feeling left out, do not despair. We have new shipments of dogs being sent all over the globe, and you should have them by tomorrow afternoon’ end quote. Next, preparations are being made for those who are to be married at the end of the week to be flown out to the new resort called ‘Tahiti’.”
“It’s a magical place.” a construction worker said in an interview a few minutes later when asked what the location was like. Jackson didn’t hear it though, for he had muted the TV set. Now even the news was talking about it. Jackson hated moments like these, for they made him think. He hated thinking. The only problem was is that he was good at it. Every boy and girl growing up had been read the same bedtime story as kids. Why Little Jimmy Doesn’t Think was a favorite among most kids. The book taught children to let the government do all of the thinking for them, and to just do what they were told. Jackson had never liked the story. At the end, Little Jimmy had been killed for thinking for himself and trying to have something of his own, a pet bird. Jackson had thought that it wasn’t fair that Jimmy had been sentenced to death just for wanting something for himself.
Overall, Jackson was pretty happy with his life, but something just felt a bit... out of place, as if something was missing. Sometimes, albeit ever so briefly, Jackson wished that he had something to call his own. Something that no one else had, something that would make him unique. Alas though, he never could have anything of his own. The next morning, Jackson woke up having forgotten the previous night’s thinking and went to work.

The sweat dripped off of Jackson’s face as he threw another piece of rubble into the portable incinerator he had with him. It was three in the afternoon, almost quitting time. The supervisor walked around Jackson as he worked. He was of middle age and greying, the look of experience in his eyes.
“Work going well, Jackson?” he asked. Jackson jumped in response.
“Sir, you startled me.” Jackson said as he patted his chest, attempting to restart his heart.
“I can tell. Found anything interesting?”
“Not today, sir.” Jackson said as he leaned on the portable disintegrator.
“Well Stevens stumbled across some dead soldiers from the last war. We’re guessing that this site could be a battlefield. If you find anything, just yell, ok?”
“Yes, sir. Will do.”
“Good.”

With that, the supervisor walked off. Jackson went back to disintegrating pieces of old junk. He continued working in the sun for another two hours before he finally found a cave. Removing a large piece of metal, Jackson found himself staring down into a large hole. A noise caused him to peer into the darkness, only to be met with a face full of bats, escaping into the daylight. Jackson flung his arms around wildly in an attempt to shoo them away. Dazed and confused, Jackson lost his footing and fell down into the cave below. After rolling several feet, Jackson finally stopped when he hit something. Looking up, he found himself face to face with a human skull. With a yelp, he jumped away from the body, only to land on another corpse. Startled even more, he retreated on and hands and knees toward the light.

For a few minutes, Jackson couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own heavy breathing. After catching his breath, he took out a small flashlight that was standard issue for rock-crunchers. The beam of light illuminated the two skeletons, giving Jackson clues about who they may have been. They both wore old uniforms, and ancient looking assault rifles lay next to each of them. The body on the right wore a light grey uniform, accompanied by a hat with a red star in the center of it. The man to the left wore a green uniform with lettering on the side written in what was commonly referred to as Marxish, but was once known as English. Jackson moved toward the man in green to rub away some dirt to read what was on the uniform. A patch on a shoulder read U.S. Army Rangers, while the patches on the chest read U.S. Army and PFC Jackson.

Jackson blinked and stared in silence at the person in front of him that shared his name. Looking around the body, he noticed a knife sticking out of his namesake’s ribcage and two small items near the body. One appeared to be some sort of case, while the other looked like a small journal. Jackson picked up both and opened up the journal, reading a few pages.



June 14th, 2022
Well, it’s just another day in Russia, I suppose. The shelling is almost constant, and I can hardly think with all the racket. It’s hard to believe that the war has almost been going on for eight years now. I suppose Paul was right when he said that we were in for a long fight when Russia invaded Ukraine and declared themselves communists again back in ‘15. We’re about 30 miles outside of Moscow now, so hopefully we can end this war before nukes become an option. So far, World War III isn’t like anything I’d thought it was going to be.
- Tom Jackson

Jackson sat puzzled at the little book. By what he could gather from what he had read, this had been a soldier fighting against the Russians, which by what everyone was taught in school had been attempting to save the world from the forces of ‘Us’, a society that only cared about themselves and not each other. That was why everyone owned everything, so no one person could be better than his neighbor. Instead of thinking, Jackson shook his head and moved onto the next item: the small case. Jackson fiddled around with it for a moment before finally figuring out that it opened up thanks to two hinges on the back. It opened with a pop, revealing a pair of bifocals in them. Jackson had seen things like these in museums before. Back in the days when some people needed these to help them see. Modern science had long since ridden mankind of the need for glasses.
On the inside of the case was a little piece of adhesive paper with “PFC Jackson” written on it with faded marker. Fascinated with the case, Jackson slipped it into his pocket and opened the journal back up, flipping near to the back.

January 3rd, 2024
This war seems to drag on and on. I seem to be the only person left that believes in what we are doing over here. Jim and Tony have been talking about deserting lately, while Rex just sits in the corner, not saying a word. Yesterday, Paul even expressed doubts about why we’re here. Et tu Paul, was all I could muster. The shelling has become infrequent now, but with the peace talks at a standstill this war could drag on. Even now there are people wondering when nukes are going to-

“Jackson!” a voice yelled, causing Jackson to close the little book quickly. Turning toward the entrance of the cave, Jackson spotted the supervisor standing with several people holding rifles, the People’s Protectors badge visible on their vests. Jackson stumbled backward, dropping the journal. Spotlamps flared as the soldiers the soldiers moved through the cavern.
“All clear, sir!” one of them yelled. Silhouetted by the light at the mouth of the cave, Jackson saw a man step into the cave and walk toward him. As he got closer, Jackson could see the man was of about forty seasons of age, had a clean-cut haircut, and was wearing sunglasses. The man stopped in front of Jackson and removed his sunglasses.
“Name?”
“Jackson Gregor. What’s yours?” the soldiers in the back quickly got quiet, whether out of respect for their leader or fear, he didn’t know. The man looked behind him for a moment, and then produced a hand for shaking.
“Clark Coulson. Director Clark Coulson, to be exact.” Jackson took his hand, as a trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead.
“I wasn’t aware that the head of the People’s Protectors for this sector was in our field.” Jackson said nervously.
“Whenever things like this come up, I make it a priority to be here in person. What have you found in here?”
“Nothing much, sir. Just this journal.” Jackson handed him the little book. Coulson flipped through a few pages and then looked at Jackson suspiciously.
“All of these entries are signed by the name of Jackson. This isn’t your private book, is it?”
“No, sir! This book belonged to the man over there. His family name is located on his uniform.”
“So it is.” Coulson said as he eyed the body. “You’re lucky. You know what the price for having a private something is, correct?”
He meant imprisonment or death. Jackson had seen the outcome of it before. A little old woman had taken in an ill bird and nursed it back to health. No one had turned a hair until she decided to give it a name, and made a little house for it on her porch. People started to grow jealous, and so the protectors were called in. She was imprisoned and then executed within a matter of days. She obviously had never read Why Little Jimmy Doesn’t Think. He had been seven at the time. He would never forget the sound of the electric guillotine blade slicing through her neck.
“Yes, sir. I do.” he answered.
“Good man. Troops, find everything belonging to the two bodies you can, and destroy it. Out with the old and in with the better. As for you Mr. Gregor, I would suggest you find your way home. The field has been shut down for the day.”
“Yes, sir.” Jackson said, making sure to hold his sigh of relief until he got home. He walked out of the cave, passing intimidating soldiers moving into the cave.
“Mr. Gregor!” Coulson yelled from inside, causing Jackson to stop dead in his tracks and slowly turn around. “Good work finding this site. You have no idea how dangerous these things could have been in the wrong hands.”
“Th-thank you, sir.” Jackson said before quickly walking away.

Hours later, Jackson finally breathed a sigh of relief as he slumped down in his chair, the furry little wiggle-worm moving around his apartment like a rocket. The dog the sign called a ‘King Charles Cavalier Spaniel’ bolted around its new surroundings, sniffing everything in sight and running circles around the living room. Thank Marx they were pre-house trained.
“That settles it. I’m calling you rocket.” he said to the dog. It stopped sniffing the door to the lavatory, looked at Jackson, gave a single bark, and then went back to sniffing. Jackson took out the glasses case he had brought back with him from the cave and examined it further. Interesting little thing, it was. Inside was the pair of glasses, and to accompany it was a little rag, which Jackson guessed was to clean it. Jackson removed the glasses and put them on his face, his vision immediately blurring. He lowered them, and then raised them again. His vision switched from normal to blurry, to normal and then back to blurry again.
“This doesn’t help your vision the tiniest bit! What were our ancestors thinking?” he asked himself as he studied the object. His contemplating was interrupted by the doorbell. Through the window he could see Rupert standing on the other side, smiling like a ninny. Jackson quickly hid the glasses case and opened the door for his brother. A yellow lab shot in the door to say hello to Rocket. The two dogs started sniffing each others posterior ends, walking around in circles as they did so.
“Brother! Aren’t dogs a joy?” Rupert asked cheerfully.
“I don’t know, mine won’t sit still long enough for me to find out.” Jackson said as he indicated the floppy eared dog.
“You know what else is a joy?”
“I know what you’re going to say, don’t-”
“Marriage!”
“And you said it.” Jackson said, flopping back down in his chair. “Honestly, I don’t see what the big fuss is about.”
“Well, we have to repopulate the species.”
“Most of the human race is repopulating anyway, so I don’t see how one person ending up by themselves is going to really matter. Personally, I’m actually happier when I’m alone.” This response caused Rupert to gasp.
“Alone?! What an absolutely dreadful idea! Why would you want to be alone?”
“I don’t know. I just prefer the solitude. Always have.”
“And don’t I know it; but brother,” Rupert leaned down to look Jackson in the face, “it is law!”
“Blast the law! I’ve already broken it once today, so I don’t see how breaking it again is going to matter.”
“You’ve what?!”
“I took an old glasses case from the field today. The person that used to own it had my name! Something about having something of... my own just felt right!” Rupert stared at him in silence. “I suppose you’re going to turn me in now.”
“I... I should.”
“Then are you?”
“N... no. Jackson, you are my brother, and I love you, so I’ll keep this secret for you. But for yourself and the well being of the human race, please just go to those sign-ups in five days time. I can’t... I won’t see you carried off to prison.”
“Thank you, Rupert.”
“Don’t mention it.” Rupert replied, looking slightly ashen. “C’mon Phillip, let’s go.”
“Phillip? That’s what you named your dog?”
“It was Clare’s idea.” Rupert said as he shut the door, the labrador following behind. Jackson breathed a sigh of relief as Rocket, finally finished with inspecting his new surrounding, walked up to Jackson and jumped in his lap.

The next day, Jackson labored in the field under the watch of a soldier from the People’s Protectors. Everyone in the field was to have a soldier to watch over them that day, so that if a new cave was found, it could be reported immediately. The man watching Jackson hadn’t said a word all day. He couldn’t even tell the man’s emotion thanks to the faceplate which covered the top half of the man’s face. He hadn’t moved either. Jackson stopped to wipe sweat from his forehead, taking a swig of water from his canteen in the process.
“Want some?” Jackson asked, indicating the canteen. The man didn’t answer. “Ok then.”
Jackson went back to removing rubble and disintegrating it. After a few hours, a shout of ‘clear!’ traveled through the valley as an explosion followed close behind. A crew was obviously clearing a large piece of rubble. Jackson turned to see a large smoke cloud erupting behind a hill, debris falling from the sky. Jackson squinted against the sun as he saw a small dot get larger and larger, before he finally realised it was a piece of rubble heading straight for him.
“Move!” Jackson shouted as he pushed the soldier out of the way of the falling rubble. The two of them hit the ground, the soldier sparking and zapping as he landed. The debris hit the ground and exploded into a shower of smaller chunks of concrete and metal. Jackson felt tiny pebbles bouncing off of him as he kept his head covered. When the shaking stopped, Jackson peeked over his shoulder to see if the ordeal was over. Seeing no further falling debris, Jackson stood up and dusted himself off, until he noticed the soldier. The man that had been assigned to watch him was no man at all. Electric sparks lept from the android’s chestplate, his mask laying a few feet away. Without the mask, Jackson could see that the android’s head was made up of a featureless face with synthetic flesh covering the lower part of the face- the only part that was visible to the everyday person. Red photoreceptors flashed as the android twitched.
“Error. Substantial system damage. Attempting to self-repair. Error. Self-repair systems offline. Shutdown imminent. Error. Error. Errrrror...” the android said as it stopped twitching and the photoreceptors blinked off. Jackson couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The People’s Protectors were really robots? Robots used for military or policing purposes had been one of the first things outlawed when the new government was set up.
“Unit 1138 come in! Respond!” Jackson heard from a few feet away. Following the noise, he noticed the mask worn by the android was lying face-up with lights being visible underneath. Jackson flipped it over to see a several video feeds all centered around him and his appartment. In the top corner, a message written in red read:

OBJECTIVE: Monitor and apprehend Jackson Gregor


Jackson slammed the door to his apartment shut and leaned against the doorframe, breathing heavily. He ran a hand down his face, contemplating what to do next. Before he could though, he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. Walking inside, he found BZ-RR putting picture frames in a cardboard box.
“Bee Zee?” Jackson said. BZ’s head swiveled around on its body while the torso continued to put things in a box.
“Hello Gregor, Jackson. My auditory scanners did not detect you entering the vicinity. May I inquire as to what you are doing here?” BZ asked in his disturbingly calm monotone voice.
“This is my apartment.”
“False. This is your place of residence, but you do not own the apartment, the government does.”
“Right, that’s why I came back, I live here. What are you doing with the pictures?”
“Removing the pictures from the residence to be destroyed before the new occupant arrives.”
“Wait, new occupant? I live here, and I doubt that’ll change soon.”
“False again. As of twelve o’clock this afternoon you are now a wanted fugitive for speaking out against the government and taking an illegal item from a battlefield.” Finished with its task, BZ picked up the box and started wheeling toward the exit. “Good day.”
“What? BZ how could you do this?”
“Simple: I am programed to take care of this apartment and the occupant begin parentheses ‘s’ end parentheses. Good day.” With that, BZ opened the door and left.
“What about Rocket?!” Jackson yelled after the robot once the door had shut.
“Dog number two-hundred twenty three bee has been impounded and is awaiting a new owner.” Director Coulson said as he stepped out of the shadows of the darkened living room. “I’m going to need you to come with me.”
“And... if I refuse?”
“That wasn’t a request.” Coulson said as the front door burst open, with The People’s Protectors soldiers swarming the room.
“Wha... what did I do wrong?”
“Oh, nothing much really. You did what every human being should be entitled to, the only problem is, you did it at a time when society is a very fragile thing.” Coulson said as Jackson was handcuffed and driven down on his knees. “If the people see someone like you have something that they don’t have and can’t have, well... things could get a little crazy. Six-hundred years ago this wouldn’t have been a problem, but things changed. There was a time when it seemed that we might overpopulate the planet, but now we’re having to worry about just populating it. I feel for you I really do, but the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. The public can’t see a deviant like yourself to give them hope. If we were to have a war now, the entire species could be wiped out. So, and I am very sorry to have to say this, but that is why we’re going to have to kill you.”
“No!” Jackson yelled as he was dragged out the door. Coulson stood in the apartment a bit longer as the team of androids cleaned up the broken glass from the window that broke when they opened the door.
“Out with the old... in with the better.” Coulson said to himself as he put his sunglasses back on.

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