The Lifeguard of the Dry Pool

What it looks like, and what it does

A tall white chair beside an empty pool, its tiles stained blue. A figure in a faded red shirt perched on the chair, binoculars in hand. A rescue ring on a hook. Wet footprints crossing the dry floor.

Keeps the chair from open to close. Watches the deep end. Stands up for exactly one whistle, and then is on the water-side of the pool with no sound of a splash.

What is known

The Baths on Marsh Road closed in 1998. Night security sees the lights come on at six and the chair occupied.

By his own log he has rescued thirty-one swimmers. On the nights he does, wet footprints appear on the dry tiles and lead out through the fire door. People in the neighbourhood have woken with the taste of chlorine and the memory of being pulled up by a strong, steady arm.

What it can do

• Rescues swimmers from water that is not there
• Leaves wet footprints on dry stone

Where it stops

• Cannot leave his chair except to make a rescue
• Never speaks above a whistle

An encounter

Salinas heard the whistle and ran to the poolside. A set of wet footprints came out of the deep end, crossed the tiles and stopped at his boots. He found, in his own jacket pocket, a soaked token marked LIFEGUARD — NIGHT. He put it back in the pocket. It was dry in the morning.

Hector Salinas, security guard, The Baths, Marsh Road, A winter night, 21:15

What is established, and what is only said

• established: The log, recovered from the chair's drawer, records thirty-one entries in one hand.
• rumor: That the swimmers he rescues are not from the pool at all.
• interpretation: He may be keeping a watch on the water that was here before the water was.

Still unresolved

His log begins with an entry dated eleven years before the pool was built.

Where it has been recorded

• Marsh Road (confirmed) — Recorded by Hector Salinas, security guard.

Stories about it

• The Lifeguard of the Dry Pool at Avonmouth (Entity story, 3 min) — A municipal baths in Avonmouth closed a decade ago, but a lifeguard still sits in the high chair above the empty pool each evening, blowing a whistle at swimmers who are not there and checking they have stayed between the flags.