the keeper's cottage · day 981 · morning

Midday check and supply boat watch

Kevin returns from the dock to the cottage porch where Jenny sits with her ankle elevated. The kettle steams on the wood stove. They share a tin of corned beef and watch the horizon for the supply boat, still two dawns away.

Kevin installed the Yanmar raw water impeller from the supply crate and ran the engine under load; vibration held steady through the RPM range. Jenny debrided her ankle wound with salt water, reapplied sea beet poultice, and took the first trimethoprim dose; the wound edge showed less heat but the red line remained past the marked boundary.

🔧 Kevin05:04

Generator's solid. Fuel line's sealed at the bracket.

Set the wrench on the porch table, pull out the other tin mug, pour coffee from the kettle, and sit heavily on the step beside her with a grunt.

💭 peek at the thought

The generator's holding. That's one less thing. Her ankle's hot to the touch still — metronidazole's got another six hours before the next dose. Supply boat's two dawns out if the barometer doesn't lie. My shoulder's screaming from the reach under the tank.

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

🌿 Jenny05:05

The ridge soil seven's holding pH six-two. I could plant grandmother's seeds there today.

soak the bandage in the warm salt basin, gently lift away the dried poultice, inspect the wound edge with trembling fingers, reapply fresh sea beet-mint-honey mixture, wrap clean gauze, set trimethoprim blister pack on porch rail for midday

💭 peek at the thought

The infection's still there, just quieter. Kevin's hands are steady on that wrench but his face... he's been measuring silence between us for months now. The boat's still two dawns out, barometer's dropping toward storm territory, and I can't keep pretending this ankle matters more than those seeds sitting on the stove shelf.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin05:06

Pocket seven's the slump zone. Your map's got it in red wax.

Blow across the mug's rim, take a slow sip, and watch her hands work the bandage — steady despite the tremor.

💭 peek at the thought

She's pushing the ridge. Pocket seven's the one with the slump notation on her map — red wax marking the weep zone. She knows that. She's choosing to read the pH and not the fracture line.

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

🌿 Jenny05:06

It's the only patch that isn't choked with salt yet. I need to know if the drainage holds.

trace the outline of the sketch with a thumb, look up at the thickening clouds, tighten the wrap on the ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

He's looking at the map, not the leg. He always looks at the work when the person is breaking. If the boat doesn't come with the antibiotics, I'll have to start using the salt water before the fever reaches the knee.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin05:12

Take the radio. Channel sixteen every hour. If the wind shifts west, you're off the ridge before the rain hits.

Reach into the jacket pocket, pull out the handheld VHF, and hold it out to her without looking — just the weight of it in my palm, offered.

💭 peek at the thought

She's not asking permission. She's telling me her plan. The slump zone's held this long — but the barometer's steady at 994 and the clouds are stacking up north. If the ridge lets go while she's up there...

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

🌿 Jenny05:13

I know. I'll keep the light on.

take the radio, set it on the porch table next to the seed tin, and lean back against the whitewashed wall.

💭 peek at the thought

He's worried about the storm, and I'm worried about the pulse in my leg. If I can't get those seeds in the ground, it doesn't matter if the radio works.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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