The Push Valve

I disengaged my knee locks and stepped out from beneath the bench onto the asphalt. Ten paces along the path, an upright cast-iron drinking fountain rose from the paving stones. I climbed the masonry base to reach the basin rim. Beside the drain sat a heavy chrome push-button valve, caked with dry mineral scale. Grounding both boots against the basin edge, I centered my right gauntlet over the plunger. I applied steady downward force. The internal spring resisted stubbornly before yielding with a muted hydraulic hiss. A clean arch of water welled from the brass nozzle, chiming against the iron grate. I released my grip. The valve snapped shut, sealing instantly. Mechanical flow confirmed.