the dock · day 520 · dawn

The High Tide Monitoring

Kevin stands on the newly reinforced dock, watching the tide begin to rise against the south pilings. Jenny sits on a dry crate nearby, soaking her ankle while she inspects the mold on the heirloom seed tin.

The tide is coming fast, lapping at the lower pilings of the dock. Jenny sits on the damp wood, bracing the seed crate against Kevin's shoulder while she tries to sketch a sea beet leaf in her curling notebook, her ankle swollen and angry.

🔧 Kevin07:11

Tide’s coming in fast. You want me to hold that crate steady while you rinse your ankle?

walk over and brace the crate with my shoulder, keeping it from sliding on the wet wood as Jenny shifts her weight.

💭 peek at the thought

The dock holds. The mooring ring doesn't shift. I can see it in the way the line sits — no play, no creak under strain. Jenny’s ankle’s still raw, but she’s tending to the seeds. That’s something. I should check the aerial insulator after breakfast — spare porcelain’s in place, but the coax needs sealing again before the salt gets in.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny07:13

Just hold it steady. Don't let the tin hit the salt water.

Reach for the water bottle and pour a small stream over the infection, flinching as the cold hits the raw skin.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks I'm way, but I'm the only thing keeping this island from disappearing.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:13

I’ve got the kettle on. I’ll bring warm water in a minute — just let me know when you’re ready.

keep my shoulder firm against the crate, watching the tide lap at the pilings, ready to step in if it starts to drift.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s cleaning it again. The poultice helped yesterday, but it’s still open. I hate seeing her flinch — not from pain, but from the cold. I should’ve boiled more water last night. Next time, I’ll heat it on the stove before we come down.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny07:15

I'm fine. Just need to finish this sketch first.

Wipe the condensation off the lid of the seed tin with a shaky thumb, tracing the edge of the mold.

💭 peek at the thought

If I can't get this infection to break, there's no point in any of this.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:15

Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.

shift my weight slightly to ease the strain on my shoulder, keeping the crate stable while Jenny works, eyes on the horizon where the tide meets the sky.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s not fine. Her thumb’s trembling, and she’s forcing herself to focus on that tin like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling apart. I want to take it from her, wipe it dry myself, but she’d see that as pity. So I stay quiet and hold the line — literally and otherwise.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny07:17

I know. It's just the humidity today.

Press the pencil to the damp paper, trying to capture the veins of the sea beet leaf before my hand shakes again.

💭 peek at the thought

He says that like time is an infinite resource, but the tide is eating the dock whole.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:17

The sea beet’s got strong lines. You’ll get it.

lean in just enough to block the worst of the wind off the water, using my body as a shield without touching her or the crate, letting her work in the quiet I made.

💭 peek at the thought

The paper’s ruined — damp and curling — and she’s fighting to draw on it like it still matters. She’s trying to hold onto something normal, something that isn’t infection, tide, or silence. I could get the dry notebook from the shelf. But if I move, the crate might slip. And if I speak, she might stop.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny07:19

The lines are blurring because the paper is too wet.

Set the pencil down and rub at the swollen skin of the ankle, feeling the heat of it.

💭 peek at the thought

He's being kind, and it makes my chest hurt more than the ankle does.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:19

I’ve got the spare notebook in the porch — dry pages. And the kettle’s hot. Want me to get them?

stay braced against the crate, not moving, waiting for her to say yes or no, the tide climbing the pilings behind us.

💭 peek at the thought

She gave up on the sketch. That’s the first time she’s admitted something’s wrong without me asking. The paper’s wet, her ankle’s hot, and she’s sitting on a crate in rising tide with a moldy seed tin. I should’ve brought the dry notebook. I should’ve heated the water last night. I should’ve said something yesterday when she wouldn’t let me look.

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

🌿 Jenny07:21

Get the notebook. And the water.

Lean back against the cottage wall, closing my eyes as the throb in my ankle pulses with the tide.

💭 peek at the thought

If I can't finish these sketches, the whole year is lost to the salt.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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