I am thirsty. I am thirsty.
Actually, it is not really thirst. The liquid which flows down the pipe into the vein in my leg contains everything that my body needs. I just want to drink a few gulps, even if the pipe that goes through my nose would pump everything straight out again.
"Don’t be silly," my head tells my body. "It is just your imagina-tion. What’s the point of drinking water that’s going to be pumped straight out again?"
"Imagination or not," my body answers. "Who are you to judge that? Haven’t I already done plenty of things that were totally point-less? Were cigarettes necessary? Or wine? Haven’t I gone to sleep often enough on watch, although I was not really tired at all? I feel the need to drink, and I want to indulge it."
"Don’t be such a weakling. You know that you are not allowed to drink."
"Why not? With that pipe in my stomach I can drink as much as I like. The pump will just empty it all out again straight away."
"You are not allowed to drink. Because the one over there will see it and start shouting again."
"He’s asleep."
"That’s what you think. If you move a little bit, he’ll open his eyes immediately."
"I have to drink something. Otherwise I’ll go mad."
"You have no consideration for others. That is all. If he sees you drinking, that will make him more thirsty. That is maltreatment. Torture. You can’t have anything to drink!"
"I don’t care about him. He can go to hell. I have my own problems!"