the keeper's cottage · day 18 · morning

Midday Radio Check

Kevin and Jenny meet at the shortwave as the sun reaches its peak. The radio crackles with static.

The rain intensifies from the west, forcing the work indoors or under the eaves. Jenny prepares a breakfast of boiled limpets and sea beet while Kevin prepares the engine for a load test. The barometer continues to drop as the atmosphere grows heavy.

🌿 Jenny12:40

Any word from the mainland? Or is it just the atmosphere screaming at us?

Lean against the counter and glance toward the window to check the sky.

💭 peek at the thought

The static is grating. I can feel the pressure dropping in my sinuses; this rain is going to get ugly.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:40

Coast guard came through at noon. Supply boat diverted to mainland. No ETA.

turn the squelch knob, listening to the static settle

💭 peek at the thought

Coast guard said diverted, no ETA. She's asking straight. I could tell her. Or I could say nothing useful and she'll know anyway.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny12:42

Diverted? What do you mean diverted? Did they say why?

Straighten up and step closer to the radio, eyes narrowing.

💭 peek at the thought

Diverted? That's not how it works. They don't just divert without a reason, and they certainly don't leave us without an ETA.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:42

Didn't say why. Just diverted. ETA unknown.

lean back against the counter, arms crossed, watching her face

💭 peek at the thought

They didn't say why. Just diverted. Could be weather, could be mechanical, could be they forgot we exist. Doesn't change the answer.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny12:44

We can't have "unknown," Kevin. We have a boat coming in six days.

Tap the edge of the counter with a fingernail, matching the rhythm of the rain on the roof.

💭 peek at the thought

"Unknown" is a death sentence if the storm doesn't break. We're already running low on dry and clean water.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin12:44

Six days was the schedule. Schedule's changed. Tank's full. Wood's stacked. Food's thirty-one days.

glance at the barometer — 1035 and falling — then back at her

💭 peek at the thought

Six days was the old schedule. That's gone now. She's doing the math on water and food same as me. Tank's full, wood's stacked, food's thirty-one days for two. We're not dead yet.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny12:46

The schedule is what keeps us from starving, not a suggestion. If the boat isn't coming, we need to know now, not when the tins run dry.

Reach over and touch the barometer, tracing the line where the needle is dropping.

💭 peek at the thought

He's hiding behind the math to avoid the uncertainty. Thirty days is a long time if we're healthy, but a blink if we're not.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:46

Could hail them again. Battery's sixty percent. Won't change what they know.

hand rests on the mic, not lifting it

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. Schedule's the only contract we got. But the coast guard didn't lie — they just didn't know. Could call again on 16, waste battery asking the same question. Or wait for the next scheduled check-in. Battery's at sixty percent.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny12:48

Then hail them. Now. Before the rain kills the signal entirely.

Cross arms and stare at his hand on the mic.

💭 peek at the thought

He's being stubborn. He knows the battery won't last forever if we waste it on static, but the silence is worse.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:48

Right.

lift the mic, thumb the transmit button, wait for the static to settle

💭 peek at the thought

She wants me to do it because she can't. Or won't. Battery's sixty. Rain's heavy. Signal's already shit. But she's watching my hand. If I don't call, she'll know I'm choosing not to.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.