← Days

Day 919

Impeller and Infection

Kevin knelt on the marked dock planks at dawn, checking mooring lines as the tide retreated. Jenny sat on a sister beam, ankle propped on a driftwood crate. He had replaced the Yanmar raw water impeller with the spare brass unit from the recovered crate. "Old one's cracked at the roots. Brass spare going in," he said. The shortwave radio check on 2182 kHz yielded only a news fragment about a US reward for Iran nuclear intelligence. The barometer held at 1010 hPa.

Kevin knelt on the marked dock planks at dawn, checking mooring lines as the tide retreated. Jenny sat on a sister beam, ankle propped on a driftwood crate. He had replaced the Yanmar raw water impeller with the spare brass unit from the recovered crate. "Old one's cracked at the roots. Brass spare going in," he said. The shortwave radio check on 2182 kHz yielded only a news fragment about a US reward for Iran nuclear intelligence. The barometer held at 1010 hPa.

A supply boat appeared on the horizon, two hours early. "Boat's early. You seeing this?" Kevin asked. "I see it. Get the lines ready," Jenny replied. "Lines are coiled. Radio first." The boat passed without contact.

Midday brought rain. They drank coffee in the cottage. Kevin checked the radio and heard a broadcast about political unrest in Israel. Jenny examined the heirloom seed tin, worrying about engine parts due in five days. "The boat is due in five days," she said. "If she shows. Barometer's rising though. 1013 and climbing."

Afternoon rain lashed the west side. Kevin cleaned the generator fuel filter bowl — clear with a good seal — then re-dressed Jenny's ankle. The infection line had advanced two centimeters past the previous mark. "Done. Fresh poultice. Line's moved. Two centimetres past the mark," he said. Jenny sketched the rot pattern on the third dock plank, managing significant pain.

Evening found them at the stone ring on the ridge. The barometer held at 1014 hPa. Kevin held her elbow as she leaned on the driftwood cane, the infection spreading past the marked boundary. He offered a softwood scrap carved with 'I'm still here.' They stood in silence as the tide ebbed below.

Pre-dawn, Kevin worked on the Yanmar by lantern light. The generator ran steady. The barometer fell to 1012 hPa. "The generator's singing again," Kevin said. "Carb diaphragm from the crate. Runs clean now." Both rolled poorly on intended tasks.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

Low Tide Morning Inspection

Kevin kneels on the marked dock planks, checking the tension on the mooring lines as the tide retreats. Jenny sits on a sister beam, propping her ankle on a driftwood crate while she watches the water rec from the rocks.

Kevin successfully replaced the Yanmar raw water impeller with the spare brass unit from the recovered crate, while Jenny's ankle debridement was incomplete due to pain and swelling. The shortwave radio check on 2182 kHz yielded only a news fragment about a US reward for Iran nuclear intelligence, and the barometer held steady at 1010 hPa.

🔧 Kevin03:10

Impeller's in the crate. Radio check first. Then we see what the Spanish fleet says.

Walk back to the cottage, retrieve the spare impeller from the recovered crate, then set up the shortwave on 2182 kHz for a call to the Spanish trawler fleet.

💭 thought
Tide's dropping clean. Lines slackening even — good sign the sistered knee's holding. Her ankle's still hot through the gauze. Three days of doxy left. If the trawlers answer on 2182, I'll ask for a medevac relay. If not... I've got the letter in my pocket. Still don't know if I'll give it to her.
🌿 Jenny03:11

Check the frequency twice. The barometer is dropping, and I need to know if that boat is actually coming.

make sketch: the rot-pattern on the third plank.

💭 thought
If the soil is too acidic on the north ridge, grandmother's seeds will never stand a chance. I can't let them rot.
🔧 Kevin03:13

Checking twice. Cold and warm.

Enter the cottage, power on the shortwave, let the tubes warm while verifying 2182 kHz on the dial, then key the mic for a radio check.

💭 thought
She's right. Barometer's steady now but the trend's down. Supply boat's due in five days — if it comes. Trawlers are closer. Frequency discipline matters; 2182's the international distress and calling, but they monitor it working the shelf edge. I'll check it cold, then warm the tubes.
🌿 Jenny03:15

This is Sorrel Island radio. Testing transmission on 2182 kHz. Over.

wrap ankle with fresh sea beet poultice.

💭 thought
The impeller's in the crate, but I need to know if the soil strips are still good. If they're degraded, I have maybe an hour before I need to plant.
🔧 Kevin03:15

Logged. I'll pull the Yanmar raw water pump while you listen.

Step to the workbench, collect the spare raw water impeller from the recovered crate, then move to the dinghy where the Yanmar is mounted and begin removing the pump cover to swap the impeller.

💭 thought
She's on the mic before I reach the set. Good. Voice steady. Ankle wrapped fresh — poultice holds the heat down. I'll log the call, then swap the impeller while the radio sits hot. Tide's still falling; dock work can wait an hour.
🌿 Jenny03:17

Be careful with those bolts. The salt has already fused the threads.

sketch the rot-pattern on the third plank.

💭 thought
The radio is just static and hope right now. If the soil doesn't match the pH I need, those seeds will just stay in the tin forever.
🔧 Kevin03:19

Soaked overnight. Left-hand bits in the roll if they fight.

Apply steady pressure with the 10mm socket on the Yanmar raw water pump cover bolts, breaking them free one at a time, then lift the cover to expose the old impeller.

💭 thought
She's not wrong. Salt's welded worse than glue on this coast. Penetrating oil's been soaking the pump bolts since yesterday — should break. If not, I've got the left-hand bits and the tap set. Either way, the impeller goes in today.
🌿 Jenny03:20

Jenny — sketch the rot-pattern on the third plank.

💭 thought
The radio is just noise against the wind. If the soil isn't right on the north ridge, grandmother's seeds are going to rot in that tin. ownSAY: Watch the housing. I don't want to strip the casing.
🔧 Kevin03:21

Old one's cracked at the roots. Brass spare going in.

Remove the cracked impeller, smear marine grease on the shaft and new brass impeller hub, press the new impeller home with vanes curved clockwise, then refit the pump cover and torque the bolts to 12 Nm.

💭 thought
Bolts broke clean. No snapped heads. Old impeller's vanes are cracked at the root — classic silt fatigue at 800 hours. Spare from the crate is brass, not plastic. Better. I'll grease the shaft, seat the new vanes clockwise, and torque the cover to spec. Radio's warm behind me; she's got the watch.
🌿 Jenny03:22

Jenny — debride my ankle.

💭 thought
The radio is just static and salt. If the soil isn't right on the north ridge, those seeds are just a waste of my time. ownSAY: It's tight now. I need to check for leaks once I start the engine.

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the dock · morning

Supply boat on horizon

The tide is low, exposing the northern shelf. Kevin stands at the dinghy's transom checking prop shaft alignment. Jenny sits on the dock planking with her sketchbook, ankle elevated. A dark hull appears on the horizon, approaching on the rising tide — the supply boat, two hours early.

No narrator was available, so nothing about this stretch was recorded.

🔧 Kevin03:23

Boat's early. You seeing this?

walk to the dock's seaward end, shading eyes against the glare, watching the hull resolve through the heat haze

💭 thought
Two hours early. That's not normal. Either the weather window closed behind them or something's wrong on the mainland. Need to check the dinghy's secured and the radio's clear for the handshake.
🌿 Jenny03:23

I see it. Get the lines ready.

Close the sketchbook and stand up, wincing as the weight shifts onto my ankle.

💭 thought
If they're early, I won't have time to finish the ridge tests before they leave.
🔧 Kevin03:24

Lines are coiled. Radio first.

turn and head back to the cottage, keying the shortwave mic on 2182 kHz

💭 thought
She's favouring it bad. The line's past the knee now. Radio call first — confirm who it is and what they're bringing. Then get her off the dock before the swell hits the jetty.
🌿 Jenny03:25

I'll get the pH kit ready.

Limp own the edge of the dock, gripping the rough timber for balance.

💭 thought
He's so focused on the schedule he doesn't even see the swelling.
🔧 Kevin03:26

Supply boat, this is Sorrel Island. Over.

hold the mic clear of the cabinet, finger on the PTT, listening through the static for a reply

💭 thought
pH kit means she's thinking water tests for the boat crew — or for the tank after they top us off. Either way she's moving too much on that ankle. Should've had her stay put.
🌿 Jenny03:27

They might be close.

Watch the horizon past the dinghy, squinting for the white of the hull.

💭 thought
If they don't answer now, we'll miss the window for the antibiotics.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Kevin and Jenny drink coffee in the cottage while the rain intensifies against the windows. Kevin checks the shortwave radio and hears a broadcast about political unrest in Israel. Jenny examines the heirloom seed tin and worries about the supply boat arriving with the necessary engine parts in five days.

🔧 Kevin03:30

Radio check coming up. You want coffee first or after?

Walk to the kitchen shelf, lift the shortwave handset, flip the power switch, and let the tubes warm while the kettle sings on the stove.

💭 thought
Rain's hammering the porch roof. Good cover for the radio call — less static on 2182 with this low cloud. Need to check the impeller seating one more time before I key the mic. Jenny's ankle poultice held through the night; boundary hasn't crossed the pen line. That's something.
🌿 Jenny03:31

Coffee first. I need it.

Sit at the wooden table, opening theion notebook to the north ridge map, and rub the swollen skin around the infection.

💭 thought
My ankle is throbbing in time with the kettle, and the pH strips are staring at me like a test can'm not ready for.
🔧 Kevin03:32

Two mugs. Strong.

Pour boiling water over coarse grounds in both tin mugs, let them steep, set one in front of her and take the other to the radio shelf. Key the mic on 2182. "Securité, securité, securité.

💭 thought
She's favouring the left side of the table, weight off the ankle. Good she's moving the fingers — keeps the joint from locking. The map's got red wax marks at three soil pockets past the stability line. She's still thinking garden while the infection sits hot under the gauze. Stubborn. Like me.
🌿 Jenny03:33

Thanks.

Take a long, slow sip of the coffee and trace the contour lines of the north ridge on the sketch with a stained finger.

💭 thought
If the soil is too acidic, the whole plan for the grandmother's seeds collapses. I don't have the energy for another failure.
🔧 Kevin03:35

Spanish fleet usually monitors 2182 at this hour. Give it a minute.

Hold the mic off-hook, wait for the receiver noise to settle into a steady hiss, then key it. "Securité, securité, securité. This is vessel Sorrel Island, position 48-12 North, 009-34 West.

💭 thought
She's mapping the fracture zones in her head while the radio warms. The contour lines around cairn three show the slip plane — she's already decided where the next trench goes. Coffee's black, no sugar. Way she takes it when she's calculating.
🌿 Jenny03:37

The boat is due in five days.

Lean back in the chair, wincing as the weight shifts on my ankle, and watch the rain lash against the window.

💭 thought
He's so formal. It's like he's talking to a ghost instead of a wife.
🔧 Kevin03:37

If she shows. Barometer's rising though. 1013 and climbing.

Release the mic button, listen to the static rush back in, wait for a reply on 2182.

💭 thought
Five days if the boat keeps its word. Five days of antibiotics if the metronidazole holds. Five days of poultices every four hours. She's counting the same numbers I am. The rain's sideways now — west wind driving it under the porch overhang. Good day to stay inside and listen.
🌿 Jenny03:39

I hope she has the right parts.

Reach for the tin of seeds on the table, feeling the cold metal without opening it.

💭 thought
1013. The pressure is dropping, but the swelling in my leg doesn't care.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Afternoon Rain Watch

The rain continues to lash the west side of the cottage. Kevin and Jenny remain in the small kitchen area as the smell of damp wood fills the air.

Kevin cleaned the generator fuel filter bowl, finding it clear with a good seal, then re-dressed Jenny's ankle wound. The infection line has advanced two centimeters past the previous mark despite treatment. Jenny sketched the rot pattern on the third dock plank while managing significant pain.

🌿 Jenny03:41

It's getting too heavy out there today.

way reaches for her notebook and begins to sketch the specific pattern of the rot on the third plank.

💭 thought
My ankle is throbbing in time with the rain; if the humidity doesn't drop, I'll never get that rot cleaned properly.
🔧 Kevin03:41

Generator's got clean fuel now. Impeller held at idle. Want to run it at load before the boat arrives?

walk to the workshop shelf and check the generator fuel filter bowl for silt buildup

💭 thought
The rain's not letting up. She's drawing the rot pattern again — third plank, seaward end. Smart. Documentation before the next storm takes it. I should check the generator fuel while the barometer's steady, and the impeller change held at idle. Need to verify it under load before the supply boat comes.
🌿 Jenny03:43

Maybe. Just check the filters are clear first.

way stops sketching and looks at her swollen ankle, wincing slightly.

💭 thought
If we run it now, the vibration might shake the bolts loose, but we need to know if it holds.
🔧 Kevin03:43

Filter bowl was clean at the last check. But I'll look again.

walk to the generator shed and unscrew the filter housing bowl to inspect for silt

💭 thought
She's favouring the ankle again. The poultice needs changing — it's been six hours at least with this humidity. Sea beet loses draw fast in damp air. I'll check the generator filter first, then re-dress her ankle before the light fails.
🌿 Jenny03:45

Be careful with the seal. Don't lose it in the grass.

way leans back in the chair and watches the rain run down the windowpane.

💭 thought
If it's clear, we'll have to face the vibration. I'm too tired for the noise.
🔧 Kevin03:45

Kevin — wipe the filter bowl clean with a rag, check the rubber seal for cracking, and reassemble the housing

💭 thought
She's right about the seal — lost one in the grass last month, took three hours to find. The bowl's coming off clean. A little silt at the bottom, not enough to choke it. I'll wipe it, reseat the seal, and get back to her ankle. The metronidazole's down to four doses. Need to decide if we stretch them or go to the cache.
🌿 Jenny03:47

If it's clear, we can try the load test.

way reaches for the tin of seeds and traces the rust in the metal with her thumb.

💭 thought
If it's clean, we'll have to deal with the shaking. I just want to stop hurting.
🔧 Kevin03:47

Filter's clear. Seal's good. Come on — let me re-dress that ankle before the light goes.

walk back to the cottage, pick up the fresh sea beet and mint poultice from the kitchen counter, and kneel beside her chair

💭 thought
Bowl's clean, seal's sound. Generator's ready for a load test. But her ankle comes first — the poultice is due, and she's been quiet about the pain too long. I'll run the generator after. The supply boat's five days out. We need the Yanmar verified under load before then.
🌿 Jenny03:49

Okay. Be quick, please.

way lifts her leg slowly, holding her breath as he touches the swollen skin.

💭 thought
He's so helpful, and it makes me feel even more like I'm failing this.
🔧 Kevin03:49

Kevin — carefully unwrap the gauze, discard the used poultice and bloody dressing into the newspaper bag for burning, irrigate the wound with saline, gently debride any soft necrotic tissue with the sterilized scalpel, apply fresh sea beet-mint-hon

💭 thought
She's holding her breath. The swelling's up past the marked line — infection's tracking. Need to debride what I can, fresh poultice, clean gauze. Two rolls left in the kit. Metronidazole's four doses. Doxy's gone. If the line crosses the ankle bone by morning, we use the VHF and call it. For now: work fast, work clean.
🌿 Jenny03:51

(A sharp intake of breath)

way grips the edge of the chair, her knuckles white, staring at the floorboards.

💭 thought
It hurts so much, but I can't scream. If I scream, he will stop.
🔧 Kevin03:51

Done. Fresh poultice. Line's moved. Two centimetres past the mark.

hand her a metronidazole tablet and the tin mug with warm water

💭 thought
She's taking it without a sound. Just that breath. The wound's weeping more than yesterday — yellow-green at the edges, hot to touch. Debrided what I could. Fresh poultice on, gauze wrapped firm. Marked the new line in pen. It's crept past the old mark. Two centimetres. Maybe three. Four doses of metronidazole left. She needs two a day. That's two days. Supply boat's five out. If the wind holds southwest, maybe four. I'll give her the first dose now.

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the old shrine · evening

Evening at the shrine

Kevin and Jenny walk the ridge path to the stone ring as light fails. The barometer holds at 1014 hPa, steady. High tide laps the dock below. They carry the ditch bag with medevac forms, the letter to Tom, and the heirloom seeds. Jenny leans on the driftwood cane; Kevin carries the storm lantern.

Kevin and Jenny stood at the old shrine in the thickening mist, the lantern light catching the carved initials on the stones. Kevin held her elbow as she leaned heavily on her cane, the infection in her ankle spreading past the marked boundary. She took the softwood scrap he offered, carved with 'I'm still here,' and they stood in silence as the tide ebbed below the ridge.

🌿 Jenny03:55

Watch your step, Kevin. The stones are slick with the mist.

Trace the worn carving on the central stone with a trembling finger.

💭 thought
The soil at cairn two is almost perfect, 6.8—if I plant the grandmother's seeds there, they might actually survive this salt.
🔧 Kevin03:55

Hold the rail. I've got the bag.

steady the storm lantern with one hand, reach back to take Jenny's elbow with the other, guide her up the last slick step into the stone ring

💭 thought
She's tracing the E again. The same stone she found on day forty-something. The tremor isn't the ankle — it's what she won't say about Tom's letter still in her pack.
🌿 Jenny03:57

I'm fine. Just... keep the light steady.

Lean heavily on the cane, flinching as the heat in my ankle spikes with the movement.

💭 thought
He's being too careful, it makes me feel like I'm made of glass instead of bone and infection.
🔧 Kevin03:57

Light's steady. You're not.

adjust grip on her elbow, thumb pressing the pulse point — tracking the fever beat against bone — and walk her toward the central stone where the carved E sits

💭 thought
Two centimeters past the mark this morning. Now the heat spikes just walking. She won't ask for the medevac forms in the bag. I'll have to be the one to say it.
🌿 Jenny03:59

Don't look at me. Look at the stones.

Reach out to touch the weathered surface of the central stone, feeling the grit of the lichen under my fingernails.

💭 thought
If he keeps looking at me like that, he's going to ask a question I can't answer.
🔧 Kevin03:59

Names worn off most. Yours isn't.

lift the lantern higher with my free hand, throwing light across the ring — the carved initials, the dates, the scrap of softwood at the base of the E stone with its pine-resin seal still holding — and wait

💭 thought
She's mapping the carvings like she maps the ridge transects — systematic, delaying. The E stone. The softwood scrap I carved and left here. She's read both. She's waiting for me to speak first.
🌿 Jenny04:01

It's just wood and stone, Kevin. It doesn't change the soil.

Shift my weight onto the cane and stare at the 'E' carving, avoiding his eyes.

💭 thought
He remembers the softwood piece. He's waiting for me to say something about why I'm still here, or why I'm planning to leave.
🔧 Kevin04:01

No. It doesn't.

set the lantern on a flat stone, freeing both hands — one stays on her elbow, the other pulls the folded softwood scrap from my pocket, the one that says I'm still here, and hold it out to her without a word

💭 thought
She's right. Wood rots. Stone weathers. The soil doesn't care about initials. But she came up here anyway — cane, fever, medevac forms in the bag — because the shrine holds something the garden doesn't. She's asking me to name it.
🌿 Jenny04:03

I should have left it at home.

Take the wood from him, my fingers brushing his palm in the cold air.

💭 thought
He's holding it like it's a confession. It's just a piece of driftwood.
🔧 Kevin04:03

You didn't.

let my hand fall back to her elbow, steady, not letting go — the lantern light catching the wax-sealed edge of the scrap in her fingers, the E stone behind her shoulder, the ditch bag at my feet with its letter to Tom and the heirloom seeds

💭 thought
The brush of fingers — cold, calloused, hers. She didn't drop the scrap. She's turning it over. Reading the pine-sealed carving again. The tremor's in her thumb now, not her ankle.
🌿 Jenny04:05

The tide is coming in. We need to go back.

Grip the wood in my hand, feeling the rough grain of my grandmother's garden.

💭 thought
He won't let me hide behind the botany today. Not with the clouds thickening.
🔧 Kevin04:05

Tide's ebbing. Checked twenty minutes ago.

don't move — keep my hand on her elbow, the scrap in her fingers, the lantern throwing long shadows across the stone ring — and wait for her to look at me

💭 thought
She's deflecting. The tide's still falling — I checked at the dock. She knows I checked. She's using the lie to move us off the ridge before I say what we both know: the medevac forms, the letter to Tom, the seeds in the bag. She's choosing the cottage over the conversation.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Night watch and impeller change

Kevin works on the Yanmar in the pre-dawn dark, lantern light on the engine block, while Jenny rests on the porch with her ankle elevated. The generator runs steady. The supply boat is due tomorrow at high tide. The barometer holds at 1014.

Kevin and Jenny discussed the Yanmar's float needle and generator repair at the cottage while the barometer fell to 1012 hPa. A tangle of driftwood washed up on the south beach. Both rolled poorly on their intended tasks.

🌿 Jenny04:09

Is the engine float seated properly?

Lean back against the stone wall, watching the rhythm of the lantern light on Kevin's hands.

💭 thought
If the boat doesn't come tomorrow with the antibiotics, I'm going to lose the leg before I finish the survey.
🔧 Kevin04:09

Seated. Filed the needle seat clean yesterday — holds at idle and load. No weep.

wipe hands on rag, set 19mm wrench down beside the Yanmar, glance at the generator exhaust to confirm steady rhythm

💭 thought
She's watching the work, not the horizon. That's different.
🌿 Jenny04:11

The generator's singing again.

Check the barometer reading on the shelf, noting it's climbed to 1016 hPa.

💭 thought
Good. Now I can sleep—if I choose to.
🔧 Kevin04:11

Carb diaphragm from the crate. Runs clean now.

reach up to the radio shelf, tap the barometer glass with a fingertip, read the needle

💭 thought
She hears it too. Good sign — means she's tracking the machine sounds like I do.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.
plan · dawn
×2
Jenny made a sketch: "the rot-pattern on the third plank".
made · dawn
Jenny made a sketch: "Rot-pattern on the third plank".
made · dawn
×2
Rot on third dock plank follows grain boundaries with fungal penetration deeper than surface cracking suggests
discovery · dawn
No model answered — the scene closed quietly on its own.
quiet_transition · morning
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · morning
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · morning
Jenny made a sketch: "With a stained finger".
made · midday
Jenny made a sketch: "Specific pattern of the rot on the third plank".
made · afternoon
Jenny made a sketch: "Nd looks at her swollen ankle, wincing slightly".
made · afternoon
Generator fuel filter bowl clean with intact seal; no silt buildup after fuel cleaning
discovery · afternoon
shrine ridge silt washout continues; stone ring stable but ground shifting beneath clay layer
discovery · evening
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · evening
A tangle of driftwood and flotsam has washed up on the beach.
driftwood · night
A new project: Yanmar raw water impeller replacement.
project_started · night
Yanmar impeller housing bolts are seized solid; standard tools insufficient
discovery · night
Ankle infection has advanced 2cm past marked boundary despite antibiotics; fever indicates systemic spread
discovery · night

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

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