the keeper's cottage · day 881 · midday

Midday Heat

The air remains stifling as the afternoon progresses, and the tide stays high against the dock.

Kevin attempted to radio the Coast Guard for a medivac, but the transmission was weak and interrupted by static, failing to establish a clear connection. Jenny remains gripped by a high fever, the red line of infection continuing its march up her calf while she struggles to stay conscious and waits for the boat or the tide to turn.

🔧 Kevin14:52

Water's not dropping. Barometer says it should. You eating?

Walk to the stove, lift the kettle, pour hot water into the tin mug with the sea beet and mint poultice bundle, let it steep.

💭 peek at the thought

The pressure's still climbing but the air won't clear. Tide should've dropped by now. Something's holding it up — swell backed in from the south, maybe. Jenny's ankle's worse. Red line's past the halfway mark on her calf. She won't say it, but she's running hot. Need to get the poultice changed and another dose in her before the light goes.

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

🌿 Jenny14:55

I'm not hungry. Just... the heat.

Lean back against the whitewashed stone wall, closing eyes to block out the rhythmic throb in the ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

My head is burning, and the red is climbing up my leg like a vine I can't prune.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin14:55

Drink the broth. Salt and fluid. You're sweating it out.

Set the mug on the small table beside the bed, pull the blanket back from her foot, peel the gauze off the ankle — the wound weeping, edges angry red, the red line marching up the calf — and set the used gauze in the tin to burn later.

💭 peek at the thought

She's burning up. The infection's moving faster than the antibiotics can chase it. Another hour and we're past what poultices and oral doses can handle. The supply boat's three days out — if it comes. If the weather holds. If the dock holds. Too many ifs.

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

🌿 Jenny14:57

It's higher than yesterday.

Look down at the red line on the calf, then reach for the mug of broth with a shaking hand.

💭 peek at the thought

He's hovering. I can feel the pity radiating off him, and it's more stifling than the humidity.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin14:57

Antibiotics take time. Poultice is drawing heat. Drink.

Mix fresh sea beet and mint with the last of the honey, spread it thick on clean gauze, bind it firm over the wound and up the calf where the red line leads, wrap the wool blanket tighter around her shoulders.

💭 peek at the thought

She knows. She's not stupid. The line's two inches higher than this morning. The doxycycline and metronidazole aren't touching it fast enough. Four doses left of each — maybe three by now. If the boat comes in three days. If she lasts three days. I've seen sepsis take a man in less on a ship with a full medical kit and a radio to a real doctor. Here there's me, sea beet, honey, and a shortwave that might reach a coast guard who might launch a helicopter that might find us in this soup.

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

🌿 Jenny14:58

Thank you.

Take a slow, cautious sip of the broth, then lean my head back against the wall and go quiet.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks he can bind it away. He's treating me like a specimen to be preserved, not a person who is rotting.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin14:59

I'm raising the coast guard. Medivac. You're getting off this rock.

Walk to the radio shelf, power on the shortwave, set frequency to 2182 kHz, pick up the handset, press the transmit button.

💭 peek at the thought

She's fading. Not sleeping — fading. The fever's pulling her under. I've got maybe hours before she can't swallow, before the confusion starts, before the only choice left is the radio and a Mayday and hoping the helicopter can see through this murk. The supply boat captain said three days at high tide, two-hour window. That's seventy-two hours if the weather holds. She doesn't have seventy-two hours. I need to call it. Now. While she's still conscious enough to know I'm not giving up on her.

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

🌿 Jenny15:00

Kevin, don't. Put it down.

Set the mug down with a sharp clink and try to push myself upright, despite the dizziness.

💭 peek at the thought

No. Not like this. I won't be the one who failed the island.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin15:00

You're burning up. The line's climbing. The boat's three days out if it comes. I'm not burying you here.

Hold the handset to my mouth, thumb on the transmit, wait for the carrier tone.

💭 peek at the thought

She's fighting me. Fighting the only thing that might save her life. Pride. Stubbornness. Fear of what it means to call for help — that the island beat us, that she couldn't hack it, that she's the reason we're leaving. Or maybe she thinks I want to leave, that this is my excuse to run back to the sea. She's wrong. I'd burn the cottage down before I let her die in it. But she's not thinking straight. The fever's talking. And if I put the handset down, I'm betting her life on pride — hers and mine.

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

🌿 Jenny15:03

I can finish the survey. Just wait.

Reach out a

💭 peek at the thought

If he calls them, the seeds stay in the tin. The garden stays weeds. I lose everything.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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