☁️ THE CLOUD THAT TURNED CLOUDY

One particularly gloomy morning over the data center, no one suspected disaster. But that was the day the cloud became... cloudy. Literally. With rain, fog, and zero visibility.

The cloud that stored billions of cat photos, business presentations, and forgotten novel drafts was suddenly shrouded in overcast gloom. Servers sneezed, protocols coughed, and Wi-Fi peeked out from behind the router, shivering.

— “We’ve got atmospheric overload on the stratosphere level!” cried the technician.
— “Users are going into syncopa!” added the support engineer.
— “Wait, is this... digital bad weather?” asked the intern.
— “No,” said the admin gravely. “It’s cloudiness in the cloud. A climate collapse caused by overly poetic naming conventions.”

First, downloads slowed to a drizzle. PDFs fell short of their recipients. Photos arrived blurry, as if taken by a rainy November itself. One particularly heavy Excel file even got stuck in precipitation.

By evening, real showers began. Dropbox leaked 1.5 gigabytes of presentations. Google Drive disconnected every ten minutes, then simply started to drip.
Even iCloud, usually storm-hardened, cracked and shed a tear. The tears ran down users’ screens, as if the interface itself understood the irony.

— “Call in the sunshine admin!” someone yelled.
He arrived — in shorts and holding a USB stick.

— “Guys, seriously... The cloud is just someone else's computer.
Put up an umbrella. And make a backup. Preferably to something less atmospheric.”

Within hours, climate control was restored. The clouds parted.
The internet once again ran smoothly, and even Outlook stopped sulking.

Since that day, engineers refer to the event as “the cloudless revelation.”
And users learned the simple truth: the best cloud is one where it never rains — and there’s always a button that says “Download All”.