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Enjoy the video. Cindy marched into Bill's office with the kind of determination that made him instinctively sit up straighter. She didn’t bother with pleasantries. "Bill," she said, her tone as serious as a heart attack, "congratulations. You’ve been selected to be a sperm donor." Bill froze, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. "I’m sorry, what now?" Cindy waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry, I won’t be collecting it. That’s not my department. But at some point in your life, you’ll give it to someone, and we’ll use it. Simple as that." Bill blinked, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. "Cindy, I—look, I’m flattered, I guess? But I don’t think I’m the guy for this. I mean, there’s got to be a line of volunteers somewhere, right?" Cindy leaned in, her gaze piercing. "Bill, I see with my mind, not just my eyes. And what I see is someone who’s got the perfect mix of brains and... well, whatever else we need. This isn’t about you, Bill. It’s about science." Bill opened his mouth to protest but found himself at a loss for words. "I don’t know, Cindy. This feels... weird." Cindy didn’t miss a beat. "Weird? Bill, you work at the NIH. Weird is literally in the job description. Now, are you in or not?" Bill sighed, defeated. "Fine. Yes. Okay. For science." Cindy’s expression didn’t soften. "Good. Because you don’t actually have a choice." Bill slumped back in his chair, muttering under his breath. "Great. Just another day at the office." It's about war for art. Artists care!