the keeper's cottage · day 984 · midday

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Kevin maintained radio watch at the desk, logging the steady 982 hPa barometer and calling on VHF and shortwave with no response but static and a distant news broadcast. Jenny sipped hot broth, warming her hands on the mug while watching the thickening sky through the window, her ankle throbbing but stable under the poultice.

🔧 Kevin08:20

Radio's dead both sides. You need another blanket?

Check the wood stove, add a split of spruce from the stack by the door, then sit at the radio desk and run through the VHF and shortwave frequencies one more time — 16, 2182, 2670, the trust's working frequency — logging the time and barome

💭 peek at the thought

The cottage feels smaller with the storm pressing against the windows. Jenny's on the porch with the blanket pulled tight, broth mug warming her hands. The radio's quiet on both bands — no supply boat, no coast guard, nothing but static and the occasional Spanish trawler fragment. Barometer's holding at 982 but that steady reading's the dangerous kind. Means the low's sitting on us.

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

🌿 Jenny08:20

I'm fine. Just... cold.

Lean back against the chair and close my eyes against the throbbing in my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

My leg feels so heavy I can't even lift my foot, and the heat is still moving upward.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin08:22

Mug's half full. Drink it while it's hot.

Pour the last of the broth from the pot into her mug, set the pot back on the stove, then return to the radio and key the mic on 2182 — "Sorrel Island calling supply vessel, Sorrel Island calling, over" — wait thirty seconds, then switch to

💭 peek at the thought

She's not fine. The fever's still climbing — saw the flush on her neck when she turned. Ankle's throbbing bad enough she can't hide the flinch. But she'd bite her tongue before admitting it, and pushing just makes her dig in.

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

🌿 Jenny08:22

Thanks.

Wrap both hands around the warm mug to Feel the heat and take a slow sip of the broth.

💭 peek at the thought

If the boat doesn't come tomorrow, I'm going to run out of antibiotics before the infection actually clears.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin08:24

(nothing — just a nod, letting her drink)

Stay at the radio desk, notebook open, log the 1200 position report: barometer 982 steady, visibility poor, sea state 4-5, no vessel contact.

💭 peek at the thought

Good. Broth's staying down. That's something. The warmth helps — her fingers were white-cold when she came in. Radio's still dead. Barometer hasn't moved in an hour. Either the high's building or the low's stalled right on top of us. Neither's good for a crossing.

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

🌿 Jenny08:24

Jenny — look out the window at the thickening sky and watch the way the wind moves the sea grass.

💭 peek at the thought

The clouds are getting heavy; they look like they want to press down on the roof.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin08:26

Wind's southwest, steady twenty. Gusting higher on the ridge.

Glance at the barometer again — 982, needle hasn't trembled — then stand and walk to the porch door, pull it open a hand's width to feel the air: cold, salt, rain coming.

💭 peek at the thought

She's watching the grass lay flat. Reading the wind like she reads the plants — seeing what's coming before it arrives. The gusts are steadying from the southwest. If the supply boat's coming, it'll be fighting a head sea the whole way. Coxswain's got maybe two hours before the tide turns against him.

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

🌿 Jenny08:27

(a small sound escapes - almost a sigh) It's holding then.

Shift uncomfortably on the chair, the metal frame biting into my thigh, and pull my knees up slightly against the pain in my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

If the longwire goes down before the boat comes, I'm completely cut off.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

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