text: “Get on the stone slab, please,” the tired man said. “I won’t go. I won’t do it! Why can’t someone else take my place?” A short woman struggled against the restraints as the man picked her up and forced her to lie back against the cool stone. “I don’t want to accompany the pharaoh into the underworld! I want to see our world first! I never got the chance. I’ll be a terrible conversation partner in the afterlife.” “You’ll be fanning the pharaoh or dropping grapes in his mouth. He isn’t taking you along to talk to you. That’s why his wives will be there.” The woman curled up on the slab, trying to get her feet under her. “I want to dip in the Nile one more time to wash my hair--for the pharaoh! I promise I won’t run away... again. Please let me go. You can’t enjoy doing this.” “I have my orders. You’re to be mummified.” In the corner, the man busied himself with the usual tools--a long hook for nose sticking, a heap of natron. “People usually consider this an honor. I’m sure your family is very proud.” With a grunt, the woman managed to roll off the slab. She tried to crawl toward the door. “I don’t even know the pharaoh! And he wants me standing beside him for all eternity? Could you run this by one of the priests? Honestly, I think there’s been an unfortunate mistake. I’d like to see the papyrus trail on this. I won’t be able to read it, but I’d like to see it anyway.” The executioner lifted her wriggling form back onto the slab. “I’m sympathetic, but you’re the fifth servant today, and I’m getting compensated for the whole batch. It’ll be over quickly. I’m sure the pharaoh will be a terrific person to spend all eternity with. How about this? One of my colleagues is mummifying the pharaoh’s pets. If you’d like, I can make sure you get a spot next to a jackal or an alligator. Would that make you feel better?” Brow furrowed, the woman shivered. “Okay, hold steady, please,” the man said, revealing the knife in his hand. He lifted it above the woman’s torso. “I’ll make you a deal.” “What sort of deal?” Little did the woman know that, of all Pharaoh’s executioners, her mummification had been assigned to the only compulsive gambler. “You could just pretend to embalm me. You know, use the herbs and salt to get the smell right and wrap me up. Then, you could slip in while they’re still setting up the graverobber traps to swap me out with somebody else. Tell them you’d found out I led an unvirtuous life and wasn’t fit to join the pharaoh on his journey into the afterlife.” “Who will the substitute be?” the executioner asked, visibly straining from the weight of the uplifted knife. “I don’t know! People die every day, don’t they? Grab one of them.” “Why should I help you?” His outstretched arm was shaking, and his grip on the knife was loosening. The woman accelerated her sales pitch. “When no one’s looking, I’ll stuff my linen strips with treasure. The pharaoh isn’t going to miss a few scarab brooches. We can start a new life together somewhere they’ll never find us. We can go to Greece! It can’t be far. The pharaoh will be too busy, sailing around the underworld in his tomb boat to care if one of his servant mummies was replaced at the last minute. If anything, we’ll be doing the dead peasant a favor, giving them a spot on the pharaoh’s ship!” “But what if we’re cursed?” “I already am!” the woman shrieked, eyes fixed on the quaking knife. Lowering the surgical dagger, the man said, “I like the odds. Let’s get you into something more comfortable.