Karl Marx stood up and stretched, taking a break from finishing the final draft of Capital. Soon, it would be ready to publish, and then the world would know how to progress to the communist utopia. He wandered over to the fire, sitting in a plush armchair next to it and letting it warm his old toes. There was something so wonderful about a pleasure so simple and basic…

Basic…

Marx shot up with a cry of horror, and collapsed onto his hands and knees, shaking. The door burst open, and Friedrich Engels rushed into the room, kneeling by his fallen friend.

“Karl! Are you alright? What happened?”

Marx could hardly speak through his heavy breathing. “Friedrich… so simple… how could we…”

“Karl? What is it, man! Calm down, and speak plainly!”

Pausing for a second to breath, Marx straightened up and put his hands on Engels’ shoulders.

“How did we miss it, Friedrich? We completely forgot to take into account basic economics! How could we be so stupid?!”

Engels paused for a moment to process that thought. Then, sinking to all fours with Marx, the two began to sob as their life’s work and dream shattered before their eyes.