the keeper's cottage · day 396 · morning

Morning antibiotics and radio watch

Kevin and Jenny are at the kitchen table. The shortwave sits powered on, tuned to Tom's frequency. Kevin prepares the next antibiotic dose and a mug of water. Jenny has her notebook open to the sea beet sketches. Outside, the cloud cover has thickened to a low grey ceiling, and the air is still.

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

🔧 Kevin04:37

Antibiotics first. Then water. All of it.

Set the pill and mug on the table beside Jenny's notebook, then pull out the chair opposite her and sit, one hand resting on the radio's warm casing.

💭 peek at the thought

The silence from the radio is heavier than static. Three calls, three hours, nothing but a stranger's voice reading war news. Tom's out there — he has to be. The barometer holding steady at 982 doesn't match the sky. Something's building.

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

🌿 Jenny04:39

I know, Kevin. I'm taking them.

(Jenny reaches for the pill, her fingers trembling slightly, and takes it with a long swallow of water while keeping her eyes on the sketch of the sea beet's salt way.)

💭 peek at the thought

He's looking at the ankle like it's a project that's failing. I just need to get through the week without the seeds molding in the tin.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin04:39

Good. The metronidazole's the last strip. Three days. You keep them down, we're through the worst.

Reach over and brush a thumb across the back of her hand, brief and rough, then pull back and turn the radio's volume knob up a notch.

💭 peek at the thought

The tremor in her fingers isn't from the cold. She's been pushing through the ankle, the fever, the sketches, the silence from the radio. The salt gland drawing is precise — she sees what matters even when her hands won't hold still.

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

🌿 Jenny04:41

I'll try.

(Jenny pulls her hand back to adjust the notebook, tracing the intricate veins of the sea beet leaf with a pencil pencil.)

💭 peek at the thought

Three days until the boat. If the swelling doesn't hold, I can finally get to the garden without limping.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin04:41

0900 in twenty minutes. I'll call again.

Stand, walk to the porch door, and scan the sky over the garden — grey ceiling, no wind, the tomatoes motionless under shade cloth.

💭 peek at the thought

She won't say it hurts. Won't say she's scared. She'll trace salt glands until the pencil snaps or the fever breaks. The radio hisses — ionosphere or distance or both. Tom's frequency. My brother's voice. Neither here.

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

🌿 Jenny04:43

I'll be ready.

(Jenny shifts her weight, wincing as the ankle pulls, and reaches for the seed tin to check the heirloom packets for dampness.)

💭 peek at the thought

He's always checking the clock now. I'm checking the pulse in my ankle.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin04:43

The tins are drying fine. I checked at first light. Leave them.

Cross the kitchen in two strides, catch her wrist before she lifts the lid, and guide her hand back to the table.

💭 peek at the thought

She's checking seeds with a leg going septic and a fever climbing. The packets matter more than the pain. I should've built that garden wall higher. Should've finished the sensory beds. Should've answered Tom's last letter before I shipped out.

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.