"Liar," he retorted, enjoying the conversation.
"I feel fine," he said.
"Hypocrite," he replied.
"I'm not afraid of the night, or sleep, or anything," he said.
"Very funny," he said.
He felt bad. He wanted to sleep. And the fact that he was afraid of sleep made him want to lie down all the more and shut his eyes and curl up. "Comfy-cozy?" asked his ironic censor.
"I'll just walk and look at the rocks and the geological formations and think how good it is to be alive," he said.
"Ye gods," cried his censor. "William Saroyan!"
You'll go on, he thought, maybe one day, maybe one night, but what about the next night and the next, and the next? Can you stay awake all that time, for six nights? Until the rescue ship comes? Are you that good, that strong?
The answer was no.