Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           Thenhestoppedgrinningandwentpastthedoctortoseejustwhatwasinthesecars.Hebackedoff,wipinghishandsontheoilyrag,frowning.Thedoctorcaughttheman’ssleevenervouslyandtookoutaten-dollarbillandtuckeditdownintheman’shandslikesettingoutatomatoplant.

           "Ah,wouldyoufillbothtankswithregular?"thedoctorasked.Hewasactingjustasuneasyaboutbeingoutofthehospitalastherestofuswere."Ah,wouldyou?"

           "Thoseuniforms,"theservice-stationmansaid,"they’refromthehospitalbackuptheroad,aren’tthey?"Hewaslookingaroundhimtoseeiftherewasawrenchorsomethinghandy.Hefinallymovedovernearastackofemptypopbottles."Youguysarefromthatasylum."

           Thedoctorfumbledforhisglassesandlookedatustoo,likehe’djustnoticedtheuniforms."Yes.No,Imean.We,theyarefromtheasylum,buttheyareaworkcrew,notinmates,ofcoursenot.Aworkcrew."

           Themansquintedatthedoctorandatusandwentofftowhispertohispartner,whowasbackamongthemachinery.Theytalkedaminute,andthesecondguyholleredandaskedthedoctorwhowewereandthedoctorrepeatedthatwewereaworkcrew,andbothoftheguyslaughed.Icouldtellbythelaughthatthey’ddecidedtosellusthegas—probablyitwouldbeweakanddirtyandwatereddownandcosttwicetheusualprice—butitdidn’tmakemefeelanybetter.Icouldseeeverybodywasfeelingprettybad.