Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           HewasgoingtowardtheNurses’Stationwithsomepapers,lookedather,andbackatthepapers,andbackatheragain,andwenttofumblingafterhisglasseswithbothhands.

           Shestoppedwhenshegottothemiddleoftheday-roomfloorandsawshewascircledbyfortystaringmeningreen,anditwassoquietyoucouldhearbelliesgrowling,and,allalongtheChronicrow,hearcatheterspoppingoff.

           ShehadtostandthereaminutewhileshelookedaroundtofindMcMurphy,soeverybodygotalonglookather.Therewasabluesmokehungneartheceilingoverherbead;Ithinkapparatusburnedoutalloverthewardtryingtoadjusttohercomebustinginlikeshedid—tookelectronicreadingsonherandcalculatedtheyweren’tbuilttohandlesomethinglikethisontheward,andjustburnedout,likemachinescommittingsuicide.

           ShehadonawhiteT-shirtlikeMcMurphy’sonlyalotsmaller,whitetennisshoesandLevipantssnippedoffaboveherkneestogiveherfeetcirculation,anditdidn’tlooklikethatwasnearenoughmaterialtogoaround,consideringwhatithadtocover.Shemust’vebeenseenwithlotslessbylotsmoremen,butunderthecircumstancesshebeganto,fidgetaroundself-consciouslylikeaschoolgirlonastage.Nobodyspokewhiletheylooked.MartinididwhisperthatyoucouldreadthedatesofthecoinsinherLevipockets,theyweresotight,buthewascloserandcouldseebetter’ntherestofus.