Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           IpullandpullandallIgainismaybeaquarter-inchofftheleatherseat.SoIfallbackandgiveupandletthepeepourout,activatingahotsaltwiredownmyleftlegthatsetsoffhumiliatingalarms,sirens,spotlights,everybodyupyellingandrunningaroundandthebigblackboysknockingthecrowdasiderightandleftasthebothofthemrushheadlongatme,wavingawfulmopsofwetcopperwirescrackingandspittingastheyshortwiththewater.

           Abouttheonlytimewegetanylet-upfromthistimecontrolisinthefog;thentimedoesn’tmeananything.It’slostinthefog,likeeverythingelse.(Theyhaven’treallyfoggedtheplacefullforcealldaytoday,notsinceMcMurphycamein.Ibethe’dyelllikeabulliftheyfoggedit.)

           Whennothingelseisgoingon,youusuallygotthefogorthetimecontroltocontendwith,buttodaysomething’shappened:therehasn’tbeenanyofthesethingsworkedonusallday,notsinceshaving.Thisafternooneverythingismatchingup.Whentheswingshiftcomesondutytheclocksaysfour-thirty,justlikeitshould.TheBigNursedismissestheblackboysandtakesalastlookaroundtheward.Sheslidesalongsilverhatpinoutoftheiron-blueknotofhairbackofherhead,takesoffherwhitecapandsetsitcarefulinacardboardbox(there’smothballsinthatbox),anddrivesthehatpinbackinthehairwithastabofherhand.

           BehindtheglassIseehertelleveryonegoodevening.Shehandsthelittlebirthmarkedswing-shiftnurseanote;thenherhandreachesouttothecontrolpanelinthesteeldoor,clacksonthespeakerinthedayroom:"Goodevening,boys.Behaveyourselves."Andturnsthemusicuplouderthanever.Sherubstheinsideofherwristacrossherwindow;adisgustedlookshowsthefatblackboywhojustreportedondutythathebettergettocleaningit,andhe’sattheglasswithapapertowelbeforeshe’ssomuchaslockedthewarddoorbehindher.