Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           Irecallsomeyearsbackwehadaman,aMr.Taber,ontheward,andhewasanintolerableWardManipulator.Forawhile."Shelooksupfromherwork,needlehalffilledinfrontofherfacelikealittlewand.Hereyesgetfar-offandpleasedwiththememory."MisturTay-bur,"shesays.

           "But,gee,"theothernursesays,"whatonearthwouldmakeamanwanttodosomethinglikedisruptthewardfor,MissRatched?Whatpossiblemotive...?"

           Shecutsthelittlenurseoffbyjabbingtheneedlebackintothevial’srubbertop,fillsit,jerksitout,andlaysitonthetray.Iwatchherhandreachforanotheremptyneedle,watchitdartout,hingeoverit,drop.

           "Youseemtoforget,MissFlinn,thatthisisaninstitutionfortheinsane."

           TheBigNursetendstogetrealputoutifsomethingkeepsheroutfitfromrunninglikeasmooth,accurate,precision-mademachine.Theslightestthingmessyoroutofkilterorinthewaytiesherintoalittlewhiteknotoftight-smiledfury.Shewalksaroundwiththatsamedollsmilecrimpedbetweenherchinandhernoseandthatsamecalmwhircomingfromhereyes,butdowninsideofhershe’stenseassteel.Iknow,Icanfeelit.Andshedon’trelaxahairtillshegetsthenuisanceattendedto—whatshecalls"adjustedtosurroundings."

           UnderherrulethewardInsideisalmostcompletelyadjustedtosurroundings.Butthethingisshecan’tbeonthewardallthetime.She’sgottospendsometimeOutside.SosheworkswithaneyetoadjustingtheOutsideworldtoo.WorkingalongsideotherslikeherwhoIcallthe"Combine,"whichisahugeorganizationthataimstoadjusttheOutsideaswellasshehastheInside,hasmadeherarealveteranatadjustingthings.