Robert Oppenheimer: Well, gentlemen, there we have it. The first nuclear bomb: “Little Boy.” And the second: “Fat Man.”

(The janitor, Edgar, looks up from a box of a dozen donuts; he has already eaten half by himself. He has another donut in his mouth.)

Edgar: Hrmf?

Oppenheimer: I’m sorry: The nuclear bomb will be called “Fat Man.”

(Edgar swallows.)

Edgar: This bomb, why does it look so much like me?

Oppenheimer: Simple geometry. It’s the ideal shape for a maximally reactive nuclear core.

Edgar: My cheeks are not that round.

Oppenheimer: They have to be that round, for the extra plutonium reserves.

Edgar: Okay.

Oppenheimer: Would you prefer we call the bomb “Edgar”?

Edgar: No. That feels worse.