by
Dave Eggers
I wanted to know that I wouldn't die like a bug, I said.
Sorry, he said. These men died, were embalmed, and have been stolen. People sold them again and again. Their every effect, their bones, were traded for gold. You'll be no better off.
[...]
If these kings believed, why would they hide themselves in these plain boxes under these heavy stones?
Ah, but they didn't believe, he said.