The Dam Daniel Marcus“Not far from where I used to live in Western Massachusetts there was a reservoir much like the one in this story a project from the 30s to bring water to thirstyBoston sacrificing the thriving vibrant towns of the Swift River Valley. Every time I drove past those still blue waters I thought of the houses stores and roads beneath of the lives that had traversed that sumberged geography andsometimes imagined myself down there in one of the houses looking out a parlor window at the dappled surface above.” I N ONE BEAKER prepare a solution of seventy-six percent sulfuric acidtwenty-three percent nitric acid and one percent water. In another beakerprepare a solution of fifty-seven percent nitric acid and forty-three percentsulfuric acid. Percentages are given by weight not volume. I was standing on the causeway that runs across the top of the dam lookingout over the reservoir. It had been raining for days and the water was the color ofmilky tea. “It’s good” a voice behind me said. I whirled around nearly jumping out of my skin. “Jesus Oscar you scared the daylights out of me.” “It’s good when it’s like this” he said his eyes grey and empty as the sky. Asmall rivulet of drool escaped from the corner of his mouth. “What’s good” I asked. “The Dragon cannot live in water that is too pure” he said. He was looking through me out across the water. Beneath his hat drippingwet from the rain I knew that there was a depressed concavity in his skull as ifsomeone had taken a tennis ball and pushed it deep into soft putty. The hair theregrew thick and curly. Beneath the muddy brown water the