Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           It’slike...thatbigredhandofMcMurphy’sisreachingintothefoganddroppingdownanddraggingthemenupbytheirhands,draggingthemblinkingintotheopen.Firstone,thenanother,thenthenext.RightondownthelineofAcutes,draggingthemoutofthefogtilltheretheystand,alltwentyofthem,raisingnotjustforwatchingTV,butagainsttheBigNurse,againsthertryingtosendMcMurphytoDisturbed,againstthewayshe’stalkedandactedandbeatthemdownforyears.

           Nobodysaysanything.Icanfeelhowstunnedeverybodyis,thepatientsaswellasthestaff.Thenursecan’tfigurewhathappened;yesterday,beforehetriedliftingthatpanel,therewasn’tbutfourorfivemenmightofvoted.Butwhenshetalksshedon’tletitshowinhervoicehowsurprisedsheis.

           "Icountonlytwenty,Mr.McMurphy."

           "Twenty?Well,whynot?Twentyisallofusthere—"Hisvoicehangsasherealizeswhatshemeans."Nowholdonjustagoddamnedminute,lady—"

           "I’mafraidthevoteisdefeated."

           "Holdonjustonegoddamnedminute!"

           "Therearefortypatientsontheward,Mr.McMurphy.Fortypatients,andonlytwentyvoted.Youmusthaveamajoritytochangethewardpolicy.I’mafraidthevoteisclosed."

           Thehandsarecomingdownacrosstheroom.Theguysknowthey’rewhipped,aretryingtoslipbackintothesafetyofthefog.McMurphyisonhisfeet.

           "Well,I’llbeasonofabitch.