Hystaspes and Irdabama

Someday I will make a painting of this compelling, unvarnished story. Long after the glorious kingdom of Darius, I found myself obtaining a driver’s permit for heavy road-construction machinery (steam roller, class 3). During that time, in a small local collection, I saw an ancient Persian coin with the image above. Its inscription read: “Hystaspes and Irdabama” - the parents of the king. This led to the following vision. 

Setting: a quaint provincial town - the very one where I had gone to get the permit - its streets marked with impeccably drawn road lines that have only just begun to fade. Flocks of ravens circle overhead. Countless inspectors and driver examiners ride scooters and mopeds through the streets, wearing bright yellow safety jackets, completely dark glasses, and old-fashioned pilot hats. They grin sardonically and, with exaggerated grace, signal their turns by hand.

As the scooters glide through the town in perfectly synchronized patterns, they scatter the croaking flocks of ravens. By day, the yellow jackets glow; by night, the ravens take over the sky entirely. The driver examiners are awaiting the arrival of the ghost of King Darius, who will drive a chariot straight down the middle of the road, against oncoming traffic. They stand ready to issue him penalty points.

Darius does not observe road markings. He does not yield the right of way.

Three colors dominate this strange and mysterious scene: green, lemon yellow, and black. The streets are lined with sycamore trees, their branches crowded with ravens. More black birds play with sticks and blades of grass along the road verge.

There is no future and no past in this town. It exists only as a memory, lodged in the mind of a man who disappeared and changed his identity. He remembered his life in his own way - not necessarily as it occurred.

Like data stored in random-access memory, it will vanish with the flick of a switch.