Halfway up the chimney, my leg started to shake. Shit! I couldn’t get my body to move. The only part of me that would move was my uncontrollable sewing machine leg.

This short story combines ideas from Sultana from Sultana’s Dream: A Feminist Utopia and Karl Marx, the author of Manifesto of the Communist Party.

The cabin had a kitchen sink, with a faucet (which is still a mystery), but no running water, unless you count the water running into the five strategically placed pails during rainstorms. On a sunny day, I could lay on the couch and see daylight streaming in through the plethora of holes in the black tar chinking that they must have used when Franklin D. Roosevelt was president.