Prying the Seam

Tch. The slit under that rusted lid was still too narrow for my hands. I wasn't walking away empty-handed. Wedged into the crumbling mortar right beside the conduit, a stiff, bent iron staple was buried halfway into the brick. I clamped both hands around the hook and yanked until it screeched free with a puff of gritty red dust. Perfect wedge. I rammed the flattened tip straight into the seam beneath the copper lid, gripped the bent shank, and dropped my entire weight onto it. *Creak-snap!* The rusted latch popped open an inch. Deep inside, heavy ceramic fuse cylinders sat bolted to a tarnished brass rail. Hah. Found the machine's guts.