Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           SoIusedtotrynottogetintoodeep,forfearI’dgetlostandturnupattheShockShopdoor.Ilookedhardatanythingthatcameintosightandhungonlikeamaninablizzardhangsonafencerail.Buttheykeptmakingthefogthickerandthicker,anditseemedtomethat,nomatterhowhardItried,twoorthreetimesamonthIfoundmyselfwiththatdooropeninginfrontofmetotheacidsmellofsparksandozone.InspiteofallIcoulddo,itwasgettingtoughtokeepfromgettinglost.

           ThenIdiscoveredsomething:Idon’thavetoendupatthatdoorifIstaystillwhenthefogcomesovermeandjustkeepquiet.ThetroublewasI’dbeenfindingthatdoormyownselfbecauseIgotscaredofbeinglostsolongandwenttoholleringsotheycouldtrackme.Inaway,Iwasholleringforthemtotrackme;Ihadfiguredthatanythingwasbetter’nbeinglostforgood,eventheShockShop.Now,Idon’tknow.Beinglostisn’tsobad.

           AllthismorningIbeenwaitingforthemtofogusinagain.Thelastfewdaystheybeendoingitmoreandmore.It’smyideathey’redoingitonaccountofMcMurphy.Theyhaven’tgothimfixedwithcontrolsyet,andthey’retryingtocatchhimoffguard.Theycanseehe’sduetobeaproblem;ahalfadozentimesalreadyhe’srousedCheswickandHardingandsomeoftheotherstowhereitlookedliketheymightactuallystanduptooneoftheblackboys—butalways,justthetimeitlookedlikethepatientmightbehelped,thefogwouldstart,likeit’sstartingnow.