the keeper's cottage · day 980 · evening

Evening radio contact and supply boat confirmation

Kevin and Jenny are together on the cottage porch as dusk deepens. The shortwave radio sits on the table between them, aerial shattered but insulator repaired. Kevin keys the mic on 2182 to confirm the supply boat's 0640 high tide arrival. The barometer reads 997 hPa and falling fast. Rain hammers the roof. The generator hums steady in the shed.

Kevin and Jenny attempted to contact the supply boat on 2182 but received only static and a garbled news fragment about an escape in Argentina. Jenny's ankle infection has spread past the marked boundary, hot and pulsing; Kevin gave her a metronidazole tablet. The barometer holds at 996 hPa steady, tide falling, wind shifting north.

🔧 Kevin04:32

Sorrel Island calling supply vessel on two-one-eight-two. Over.

key the mic on the shortwave radio, hold it steady, wait for the carrier tone to settle

💭 peek at the thought

Barometer's dropped four millibars since I checked the generator line. Wind's backing southeast — foul quadrant. If the boat's coming at 0640, they'll need the tide and a hole in the weather. Neither's guaranteed. Key the mic. Keep it short. They hear static, they hear me.

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

🌿 Jenny04:32

The wind is turning north, Kevin. Check the barometer again.

lean back against the stone wall, shifting weight off the throbbing ankle, watch the rain hit the half-weed garden.

💭 peek at the thought

The pressure is dropping too fast; if that boat doesn't make the window, we'll be sitting in the dark for another week.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin04:36

(into mic) Sorrel Island calling supply vessel. Confirm zero-six-four-zero high tide arrival. Barometer nine-nine-seven falling. Over.

release the mic, glance at the barometer needle, listen through the static for a reply

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. Wind backing north means the low's tracking closer than I thought. Barometer's already 997. If it drops another five before midnight, the boat won't risk the crossing. Need to hear the captain's voice. Static's thick tonight.

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

🌿 Jenny04:37

Kevin, the generator fuel line—DO: press thumb against the infection boundary marked in pen, watch the barometer needle dip another point, then reach for the notebook where I've been sketching the sea beet salt gland gradients.

💭 peek at the thought

Nine-nine-seven and falling fast. Three days without sleep, and this infection won't wait.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin04:38

(low, off-mic) Line's holding. Replaced the hose at the bracket. No air in the bowl.

set the mic down, pick up the notebook, turn to the sea beet sketches, study the gland density gradients she mapped across the elevation zones

💭 peek at the thought

Generator line held after the repair. Clamp's tight, no weep. She's watching the barometer like she watches the infection line — same focus, different gauges. Needle's trembling at 996. Radio's dead quiet. Captain might not be listening. Might not be able to cross.

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

🌿 Jenny04:38

Check the ankle again. The poultice is getting warm.

sit up with a groan, reach for the sea beet poultice, peel back the gauze to check the boundary for redness.

💭 peek at the thought

If the boat doesn't come, I'm going to run out of strength before that tin of seedsization sees soil.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin04:40

Hold still.

take the mag light from the porch hook, angle it over her ankle, compare the red margin to the pen line, check for heat and swelling with the back of my hand

💭 peek at the thought

Poultice warming means blood's moving. Could be the trimethoprim kicking in, could be the infection fighting back. She's learned to read her own body like I read an engine — sound, heat, vibration. I've got the mag light. The pen mark from this morning's still visible. If the red's past it, we up the dose. If not, we hold.

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

🌿 Jenny04:41

It's spreading. I can feel it pulsing with each step.

watch Kevin's fingers trace the infection boundary, see the pen line that held for six hours finally giving way to the red margin creeping past it, then close the notebook and set it aside.

💭 peek at the thought

Three millimeters. Just three millimeters more and this whole island will be too much for me.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin04:42

Past the line. Hot. Pulse's up.

reach for the medical kit, pull the metronidazole blister pack from the oilcloth wrapper, tap out a tablet, hold it out to her with the tin mug of water

💭 peek at the thought

Red line's jumped the mark. Two millimetres past the pen line, hot to touch, pulse thready and fast under my fingers. Trimethoprim's not covering this. Need the metronidazole on board — anaerobic coverage. Supply boat's got it. If they come. If the weather holds. If the barometer stops falling. She's not panicking. That's the part that tightens my chest.

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

🌿 Jenny04:42

I know.

take the tablet from his hand, take a sip of the lukewarm water, watch the rain blur the half-weed garden.

💭 peek at the thought

I'm too tired to even swallow properly. If the boat is late again, grandmother's seeds will rot in that tin.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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