the keeper's cottage · day 622 · afternoon

Waiting for the Tide

The midday heat lingers as the sun begins to dip, leaving them to prepare the final gear for the boat.

The air is thick and humid, the 30°C heat pressing down on the cottage as the tide recedes slowly, revealing a new sandbar near the tide pools. Inside, the silence is heavy, broken only by the low hum of the radio and the occasional scratch of rats nearby.

🌿 Jenny01:49

Check the radio one more time, Kevin. The static is changing.

Lean back against the stone wall and adjust the cold pack on my swollen ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

If the boat doesn't come in two days, the red lines will be past my knee.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin01:49

Already did. Ground stake's clean, coax seated, spare insulator filed and taped at the mast. Receiving fine. Transmit test at 1400 — nothing answered but the set keys up clean. I'll try again on the hour.

walk to the radio shelf, key the mic, and call the supply boat on Channel 16: "Sorrel Island caretaker station, Sorrel Island caretaker station, this is Keeper Kevin on shortwave. Radio check. Over."

💭 peek at the thought

The static's shifted — higher pitch, more intermittent. Ionospheric change with the heat dropping. Good sign for the boat's ETA if the skipper's running on schedule. But the aerial insulator's still the weak link; even a clean signal won't transmit if the ceramic's tracking.

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

🌿 Jenny01:51

It's too quiet today.

Watch the needle on the radio, waiting for a crack that isn't the wind.

💭 peek at the thought

The silence on the line is heavier than the heat.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin01:51

Engine carries far in this air. If she's coming, we'll hear her before the radio wakes.

set the mic back in its cradle, walk to the porch door, and stand with one hand on the frame listening seaward

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. No engine drone on the horizon, no prop wash against the dock pilings. The tide's falling clean — should hear the boat's exhaust bouncing off the cliffs by now if she's on schedule. Barometer's steady at 1011, but the silence stretches wrong.

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

🌿 Jenny01:53

I hope you're right.

Trace the edge of the redness on my ankle with a finger, wincing at the heat of the skin.

💭 peek at the thought

I hope it's the engine and not just the swell.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin01:53

It's healing. Slow, but clean.

crouch beside her chair, peel back the gauze edge just enough to see the wound, and press the back of my fingers to the skin around the incision — testing temperature, watching for her reaction

💭 peek at the thought

The red line hasn't moved since noon. Skin's hot but localised — no streaking up the calf. Pulse steady at her wrist when I checked earlier. The sea beet poultice is holding. She's favouring it less each time she shifts weight. Two days, maybe one, before she walks without the cane.

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

🌿 Jenny01:55

It way hot, Kevin.

Pull my leg away slightly and adjust the cloth back over the swelling.

💭 peek at the thought

He's lying to make me feel better. It pulses.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin01:55

When did it spike?

reach for the basin of salt water and the clean sea beet leaves on the porch table, already mixing the next poultice with mint and charcoal from the fire

💭 peek at the thought

Hotter than noon. She pulled away fast — guarding it. The heat's spreading past the incision margins. Could be the metronidazole wearing off, could be the poultice drying out, could be something deeper waking up. Need fresh poultice, fresh gauze, and eyes on it every two hours through the night.

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.