the dock · day 366 · dawn

The Weight of Still

Kevin kneels over the Yanmar injector pump on the workbench, wiping grease from the brass sleeve while Jenny sits on the weathered plank, watching the grey tide lap against the reinforced pilings. The air is heavy and smells of salt and drying mint.

The morning air is heavy and still as the tide sits high against the dock. Kevin works on the Yanmar injector pump, carefully threading the housing bolts to the specified torque, while Jenny manages the throbbing pain in her ankle and sketches sea beet morphology in the notebook.

🔧 Kevin00:47

Pump's ready. Needs the housing back on, then we time it.

torque the Yanmar housing bolts to 35Nm with the torque wrench

💭 peek at the thought

She's quiet. Been quiet since the fever broke. The pump's clean — timing marks aligned, delivery valves seated. Just need to torque the housing bolts to 35 and she'll fire. My hands know this work better than my tongue knows words.

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

🌿 Jenny00:47

Don't over- Logic the threads, they are thin.

way the throbbing skin around the bandage and wince as the heat spikes.

💭 peek at the thought

If the infection hits the bone, I won't even be able to walk to the north ridge to finish the survey.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:48

Quarter turn past seat. I know.

torque the housing bolts to 35Nm, backing off a quarter turn at final seat

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. The alloy housing stretches if you lean on it. Backed off a quarter turn last time and it held. She's watching the bolts, not me — knows the job better than she lets on.

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

🌿 Jenny00:49

Just make sure it doesn't leak when we hit the swell.

sketch the morphology of the sea beet salt glands in my notebook, my hand shaking slightly.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks the engine is the only thing that needs fixing while the rot moves up my leg.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:51

It won't leak.

wipe the housing flange clean, seat the gasket, and bolt it down — quarter turn past seat, even pattern

💭 peek at the thought

The shake isn't the bolts. It's the forty minutes in Biscay, the water cold enough to stop a heart, and her hand steady on the page while mine remembers drowning. She draws salt glands. I tighten bolts. We both measure what keeps us alive.

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

🌿 Jenny00:51

I need to check the water tank. The light is getting thin.

stand up slowly, putting my weight on my good leg, and limp toward the cottage.

💭 peek at the thought

Eight days until the boat, and I'm not sure if my ankle will hold me by then.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:52

Tank's three down from full. I'll run the hose at low tide.

finish the last housing bolt, wipe hands on a rag, and set the torque wrench back in its case

💭 peek at the thought

Tank's at 397. She knows. She checks anyway — ritual, not need. The limp's new since the infection. She won't ask for help. I'll top it from the spring before dark.

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

🌿 Jenny00:53

Don't forget the antiseptic.

reach for the tin of seeds on the table, feeling the damp metal under my thumb.

💭 peek at the thought

He's so focused on the metal he can't see the salt eating the wood.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:54

Empty. Used it on your ankle. Salt water and honey's what we got.

pick up the seed tin, feel the condensation on the lid, and set it back without opening it

💭 peek at the thought

Antiseptic's empty. Used the last on her ankle three days ago. She knows. She's checking if I'll lie or improvise. The seed tin's cold — E stamped on the lid, same as the stone at the shrine. She fingers it like she's reading braille.

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

🌿 Jenny00:55

I'll manage.

sit on the cot, hand still tight around the seed tin as I watch the pulse in my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

way won't stop sepsis.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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