the keeper's cottage · day 394 · afternoon

Afternoon broth and radio check

Kevin and Jenny sit at the kitchen table with mugs of limpet broth. The Yanmar is cold. The barometer reads 984 hPa and rising. The shortwave radio sits on the shelf, its aerial insulator shattered, spare coax coiled dry on the porch. Jenny's ankle is elevated on a stool, poultice fresh. Kevin has a metal file and the bronze sleeve for the prop shaft on the table beside him.

The air is heavy and still in the dry heat of the 32°C afternoon. The barometer continues to fall to 987 hPa, signaling a coming shift in the weather. Inside the cottage, Jenny sits at the table, her ankle throbbing rhythmically, while Kevin works on the Yanmar engine components.

🌿 Jenny03:05

The boat is ten days out, Kevin. If this infection doesn't break by then, I'm calling the medevac.

Jenny traces the edge of the sea beet sketch in her notebook, watching Kevin file the bronze.

💭 peek at the thought

The pressure is finally turning, but my leg feels like it's in a vice.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin03:05

Ten days. We'll know by day three if the doxy's holding. If it's not — you call. No argument.

set the file down, wipe bronze shavings onto a rag, push the sleeve toward the center of the table

💭 peek at the thought

She's serious. The streaks haven't retreated. Ten days is a long watch on a leg going septic.

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

🌿 Jenny03:07

I know. I just need to be able to stand up to plant the seeds.

Jenny closes the notebook with a soft thud and rubs her temple, avoiding the ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

He's so practical, it's irritating when my skin is throbbing.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin03:07

The tomato stakes are driven. Basil's thin but the peppers took. You'll plant sitting on a stool if you have to.

pick up the mug, blow across the broth, sip

💭 peek at the thought

She's bargaining with herself. Planting seeds means she believes there's a harvest coming.

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

🌿 Jenny03:09

I'll manage. I just need the fever to go down first.

Jenny looks out the window at the half-weeded patch, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug.

💭 peek at the thought

I don't want to be a burden in my own garden.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin03:09

Rest today. The garden's not going anywhere.

set the mug down, reach for the bronze sleeve, turn it in the light checking the bore

💭 peek at the thought

The fever's the tell. If it breaks, she walks. If it doesn't, the radio call goes out on day three. I'll watch the thermometer closer than the barometer.

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

🌿 Jenny03:11

I know.

Jenny leans back in the chair, letting out a slow breath as she watches the grey clouds shift over the island.

💭 peek at the thought

It's already going somewhere; the weeds are winning every minute while I sit here.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin03:11

Sleep if you can. I'll wake you for the evening check.

stand, carry the bronze sleeve to the workbench, set it beside the micrometer

💭 peek at the thought

She's tired in a way sleep won't fix. The infection's been eating at her for days. I should check the wound again before dark — see if the streaks have moved.

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

🌿 Jenny03:13

Okay.

Jenny closes her eyes, trying to ignore the rhythmic throb in her ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

If I sleep, I'll wake up with the red reaching my knee.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin03:13

Kevin — pull the blanket from the foot of the bed, drape it over her shoulders, settle into the chair by the window with the notebook

💭 peek at the thought

She's out before her head hits the pillow. Good. The doxy's had twelve hours — another twelve might show something. I'll let her sleep, check the wound at dusk, and run the Yanmar at idle while the tide's high enough to test the prop in water.

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.