Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           ChronicsaredividedintoWalkerslikeme,canstillgetaroundifyoukeepthemfed,andWheelersandVegetables.WhattheChronicsare—ormostofus—aremachineswithflawsinsidethatcan’tberepaired,flawsbornin,orflawsbeatinoversomanyyearsoftheguyrunninghead-onintosolidthingsthatbythetimethehospitalfoundhimhewasbleedingrustinsomevacantlot.

           ButtherearesomeofusChronicsthatthestaffmadeacoupleofmistakesonyearsback,someofuswhowereAcuteswhenwecamein,andgotchangedover.EllisisaChroniccameinanAcuteandgotfouledupbadwhentheyoverloadedhiminthatfilthybrain-murderingroomthattheblackboyscallthe"ShockShop."Nowhe’snailedagainstthewallinthesameconditiontheyliftedhimoffthetableforthelasttime,inthesameshape,armsout,palmscupped,withthesamehorroronhisface.He’snailedlikethatonthewall,likeastuffedtrophy.Theypullthenailswhenit’stimetoeatortimetodrivehimintobedwhentheywanthimtomoveso’sIcanmopthepuddlewherehestands.Attheoldplacehestoodsolonginonespotthepissatethefloorandbeamsawayunderhimandhekeptfallingthroughtothewardbelow,givingthemallkindsofcensusheadachesdowntherewhenrollcheckcamearound.

           RucklyisanotherChroniccameinafewyearsbackasanAcute,buthimtheyoverloadedinadifferentway:theymadeamistakeinoneoftheirheadinstallations.Hewasbeingaholynuisanceallovertheplace,kickingtheblackboysandbitingthestudentnursesonthelegs,sotheytookhimawaytobefixed.