the keeper's cottage · day 975 · dawn

Morning Heat and Salt

Jenny sits on the porch steps, her ankle wrapped in fresh gauze while she watches the light breeze. Kevin stands by the railing, checking the water level in the tank with the measuring stick. The air is dry and warm as the tide begins to come in.

The morning light breaks over Sorrel Island as the tide begins its slow climb against the jagged volcanic rocks. Kevin stands by the dock, checking the tension on the salt-worn way lines while watching the water lap higher against the pilings. Jenny is near the cottage, tending to the poultice on her ankle, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the supply boat.

🔧 Kevin17:36

Tank's full. 397 litres.

set the measuring stick against the tank wall and turn toward the porch steps, leaning one hip against the railing

💭 peek at the thought

Tank's holding at 397. Good. Means the overflow repair held through the last squall. She's sitting quiet on the steps — ankle's bad, worse than she lets on. I can see the way she holds her breath when she shifts weight. Supply boat's nine days out. Nine days of this.

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

🌿 Jenny17:36

It's enough for now. Did the radio catch anything today?

Jenny reaches for the notebook on her lap, her fingers tracing the sketch of the way ruins.

💭 peek at the thought

Three hundred and ninety-seven. Always three litres short if the boat misses the window again.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:38

Nothing but static on the scheduled check. Supply boat's still nine days out, weather window holding.

step down from the railing and move to the porch edge, arms crossed, looking out at the water

💭 peek at the thought

She's asking about the radio but her eyes are on the lighthouse sketch. The ruin soil profiles. She's thinking about the ridge, the slump zones, the pocket at pH 6.2. Her ankle's throbbing — I can see it in the set of her jaw — but she's tracing contour lines.

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

🌿 Jenny17:38

Nine days. I need to check the pH on the north ridge again; the soil is shifting.

Jenny shifts her weight, wincing silently as the pulse in her ankle throbs against the bandage.

💭 peek at the thought

Nine days. Nine days for the infection to climb or the seeds to rot.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:40

Your ankle's past the line you marked. You're not walking the north ridge.

turn fully toward her, voice flat

💭 peek at the thought

She's going to try to walk the ridge on that ankle. Nine days of supply boat, and she's planning soil tests on a slope that's already sliding. The infection's tracking upward — I saw the red line she drew yesterday, and the swelling past it this morning. She won't say stop. She won't ask for help. She'll just go, and the ridge will take her down.

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

🌿 Jenny17:40

It's just a survey, Kevin. I can manage.

Jenny tightens her grip on the notebook, her knuckles white as she stares out at the half-weeded garden.

💭 peek at the thought

He doesn't understand the urgency. If I don't test the soil now, the seeds die before the boat even arrives.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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