Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           "Thatdamnedradio.Boy.It’sbeengoingeversinceIcomeinthismorning.Anddon’tcomeonwithsomebaloneythatyoudon’thearit."

           Hardingcockshiseartotheceiling."Oh,yes,theso-calledmusic.Yes,Isupposewedohearitifweconcentrate,butthenonecanhearone’sownheartbeattoo,ifheconcentrateshardenough."HegrinsatMcMurphy."Yousee,that’sarecordingplayingupthere,myfriend.Weseldomheartheradio.Theworldnewsmightnotbetherapeutic.Andwe’veallheardthatrecordingsomanytimesnowitsimplyslidesoutofourhearing,thewaythesoundofawaterfallsoonbecomesanunheardsoundtothosewholivenearit.Doyouthinkifyoulivednearawaterfallyoucouldhearitverylong?"

           (IstillhearthesoundofthefallsontheColumbia,alwayswill—always—hearthewhoopofCharleyBearBellystabbedhimselfabigchinook,heartheslapoffishinthewater,laughingnakedkidsonthebank,thewomenattheracks...fromalongtimeago.)

           "Dotheyleaveitonallthetime,likeawaterfall?"McMurphysays.

           "Notwhenwesleep,"Cheswicksays,"butalltherestofthetime,andthat’sthetruth."

           "Thehellwiththat.I’lltellthatcoonovertheretoturnitofforgethisfatlittleasskicked!"

           Hestartstostandup,andHardingtoucheshisarm."Friend,thatisexactlythekindofstatementthatgetsonebrandedassaultive.Areyousoeagertoforfeitthebet?"

           McMurphylooksathim."That’sthewayitis,huh?Apressuregame?Keeptheoldpinchon?"