Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram

Author:Adib Khorram
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-08-29T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

It wasn’t like the Ruins of Persepolis were an entire city.

At its height, Persepolis had covered a huge area. Not as big as Greater Portland, maybe, but still. The part we were in, the part with the actual ruins—Takhte Jamsheed—was small enough to fit in our neighborhood back home.

Sohrab led me through the Apadana, the complex’s main palace. There was not much of it left: several enormous pillars, even taller than the Gate of All Nations; and some ornate staircases, though their wide, shallow steps had a bizarre rise-to-run ratio; and a bunch of stone arches whose structural integrity fields had held up impressively well over thousands of years.

The whole thing smelled like sun-baked dust—it made me think of Mom running the vacuum, which was weird—but it wasn’t old or musty. The wind from the mountains around Shiraz kept a light breeze spinning through the Apadana, quieter and more subtle than the Dancing Fan could ever hope to be.

In pictures, old buildings are always white and smooth. But in real life, Persepolis was brown and rough and imperfect. There was something magical about it: the low walls, all that remained of some ancient hall, and the pillars looming over me like giants in an ancient playground.

According to Sohrab, many of the buildings were never finished before Alexander the Great sacked Persepolis.

Alexander the Great was the Trent Bolger of Ancient Persia.

Dad followed us into the Apadana and pulled his sketchbook back out.

“These arches are incredible.” Dad pointed to a huge set that looked at least four stories high.

“Yeah.”

“Stephen,” Sohrab said. “You like architecture?”

“That’s what I do back home,” Dad said. “I’m an architect.”

Sohrab’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Dad nodded and kept sketching.

I wanted to ask him if the ruins reminded him of Vulcan, the way they reminded me.

I wanted to ask him if he wanted to come exploring with me and Sohrab.

But I didn’t know how.

Stephen Kellner stared at the arches above us and bit his lip. He rubbed his thumb against the page to make a shadow and kept sketching.

“Come on,” I said to Sohrab as we left Dad behind.

“Your dad is an architect?”

“Yeah. He’s a partner in a firm.”

“That’s what I want to do. Someday.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That or civil engineering.”

“Wow.”

To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what the difference was between the two.

I couldn’t say that out loud.

“It’s a lot of school, though.”

“Yes. Not easy for Bahá’ís.”

“Oh?”

Sohrab nodded, but he didn’t elaborate.

Instead, he said, “Come on, Darioush. There’s much more to see.”

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