the keeper's cottage · day 609 · evening

Evening at the cottage — Kevin and Jenny reunite

Kevin returns from the workshop to the cottage porch where Jenny has made her way back from the hilltop, ankle wrapped and elevated on a cushion. The generator hums behind the storm tarp. They share a tin of corned beef and limpet broth as the light fails, comparing notes on the pump housing and the ankle.

The rain has intensified into a relentless western drumming against the cottage roof, turning the island into a blur of grey. Inside, the air is heavy with the smell of damp wood and the medicinal tang of the sea beet poultice. Jenny's fever remains a stubborn heat, the red streaks on her leg tracking slowly upward, while the Yanmar engine sits silent on the bench, its scored housing a grim reminder of the mechanical failure that cannot be patched away.

🌿 Jenny08:52

The harbor's scored worse than I thought. I got a bronze sleeve ordered but nothing to thread it in properly. The impeller's fine now, but that whine—" "The harbor's scored worse than I thought. I got a bronze sleeve ordered but nothing to thread it in properly. The impeller's fine now, but that whine—

Take a bite of corned beef, limpet broth going cool, fingers itching to check the ankle bandage despite telling myself the poultice is working. </think>THOUGHT: He sees the red streaking up my calf and wants to ask about the infection, but

💭 peek at the thought

He sees the red streaking up my calf and wants to ask about the infection, but remembers the medevac forms completed and the supply boat in five days. Instead he talks about the housing bore scoring, about bronze sleeves needing machining.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin08:52

Housing's scored deep. Sleeve won't hold without a proper bore. Need the lathe on the mainland, or a new housing entirely.

reach for the tin mug of broth, blow across the surface, watch the oil swirl

💭 peek at the thought

She's quoting me back to myself — the pump housing, not her ankle. She knows I know. The broth's grease sits heavy on my fingers. I should check the dressing again before dark.

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

🌿 Jenny08:55

Then we'll have to file it down until it fits a temporary seal. We can't wait for another month.

Lean back against the stone, wincing as the ankle throbs in time with the rain on the roof.

💭 peek at the thought

If the housing is shot, the Yanmar is a paperweight, and I'm stuck here if the boat doesn't come.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin08:55

File a scored bore? That's not a repair, Jen. That's hoping.

set the mug down on the porch rail, wipe hands on trousers, reach for the headlamp on the shelf

💭 peek at the thought

She's talking about the pump like it's a splinter in her finger, not the only thing keeping us from rowing to the mainland. Her ankle's hot through the bandage — I can feel it radiating from here. She won't let me look.

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

🌿 Jenny08:57

I don't have the luxury of a way, Kevin.

Trace the red line on my ankle, feeling the heat radiating from the skin that should be cool.

💭 peek at the thought

Hope is the only thing I haven't run out of, and it's getting thin.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin08:57

Then we make one. I'll machine a sleeve from the bronze bar stock tomorrow. Bore it true on the Yanmar's own crankshaft if I have to.

unclip the headlamp, click it on, kneel beside her ankle without asking

💭 peek at the thought

She's not talking about the pump anymore. She hasn't been for a while. The red line's crept two fingers' width since noon — I saw it when she shifted the cushion. Metronidazole's done. Doxy's done. The fever's not breaking.

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

🌿 Jenny08:59

The antibiotic blister packs are empty, Kevin. The antibiotic blister packs are empty, Kevin. The antibiotic blister packs are empty, Kevin.

Let him touch the swollen joint, letting him see the heat without speaking. </think> Let him touch the swollen joint, letting him see the heat without speaking. </think> Let him touch the swollen joint, letting him see the heat without spea

💭 peek at the thought

He's kneeling, flashlight beam cutting across the infection, and I want to tell him about the fever. He's kneeling, flashlight beam cutting across the infection, and I want to tell him about the fever. He's kneeling, flashlight beam cutting across the infection, and I want to tell him about the fever.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin08:59

I know.

peel back the gauze slowly, careful not to stick, let the headlamp beam catch the wound clean

💭 peek at the thought

She said it three times. Not for me — for herself. Making it real. The empty blister packs in the medical kit, the last metronidazole gone this morning. She's burning up and the red's tracking toward her knee and I have nothing left but sea beet and cold rainwater.

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

🌿 Jenny09:09

It's deeper than yesterday. The poultice isn't holding enough.

Clench my hand against the stone wall, breath catching in a sharp hiss.

💭 peek at the thought

The streaks are moving. I can feel them climbing toward my knee.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin09:09

Need to debride again. Deeper this time. Get ahead of it.

reach for the scalpel on the shelf, click the blade open with one hand, set the headlamp to flood

💭 peek at the thought

The wound's angry — deeper, wider, the edges grey-white where healthy tissue should be pink. Pus wells slow and thick. The red streaks feather out past the last pen mark, two fingers closer to her knee than noon. She's not just fighting infection. She's losing ground.

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

🌿 Jenny09:10

Just do it. Don't let me watch it bleed.

Close my eyes and grip the edge of the cushion until my knuckles turn white.

💭 peek at the thought

If I don't get this out now, I won't be able to plant the seeds.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin09:11

Almost done. Hold on.

debride the necrotic tissue with the scalpel, flush with boiled rainwater from the basin, pack fresh sea beet-mint poultice deep into the wound, re-wrap tight with clean gauze

💭 peek at the thought

She trusts me with the blade. That's the only thing keeping my hand steady. The wound weeps when I touch the edge — dead tissue sloughing, the smell sharp and sweet. I work fast, the way I learned: cut clean, flush hard, pack tight. Her breath hitches once, twice. No sound.

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.