Why are you happy?
“Why are you happy?”
The question came as no surprise to the veteran foremare; she had answered it dozens of times before. Experience told her that the inquiring pegasus was asking for a pair of patient ears to hear him out. And those she had.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes flitting between hers and the floor. “That was pretty vague. Would you mind if we…I mean, please, if you aren’t too busy…”
“Of course not—here, have a seat.”
She motioned to the pillows lined up in front of her desk. He sat hesitantly, as if prepared to bolt at the slightest sign of her displeasure. The desk, he observed, was covered in paperwork, but not at all cluttered; its only adornment was a framed picture facing away from him. The foremare was a model of efficiency: as daunting as it was to voice his long-held concerns, he wanted less to waste her time.
“I’ve been working here for a while now,” he explained, “and I think that has something to do with it. Actually, that’s exactly what’s wrong. I’m sad, boss—this job is depressing me.”
His eyes burned, and he struggled to keep from sniffling. Why did he have to be so sensitive? This was probably the reason nopony else was having the same problem, he thought.
“Come on,” the foremare soothed him, “tell me what’s bothering you.”
“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he choked on his words in an attempt to control himself, “it’s not r-really the job. It’s just havin’ the job, you know? Every time anypony on the ground asks me what I do…I…”
“You tell them that you make the rain.”
“Y-yeah.” He breathed deeply; he couldn’t stand to burden the foremare with his emotions. “I tell them I make the rain, and then they always say the same thing: ‘Oh, I hate it when it rains!’”
“I see.”
“I dunno if anypony’s said it to you, boss, but I hear it all the time! Whenever I leave Cloudsdale it’s the same. I see bakers making cakes, farmers harvesting crops, and even ponies who clear clouds from the sky, and everypony loves them—their jobs make everypony happy!”
“Your job is very important.”
“I KNOW!” he stomped a hoof in anger, his eyes watering again. He gave the foremare a look of apology and continued. “I’m sorry, boss, I’m not mad at you. It’s just…I’ve heard that a lot. I keep tellin’ myself over and over that everypony needs the rain, but it doesn’t help. I don’t wanna be dramatic, but…” he raised himself from his seat and turned sideways to show his cutie mark. It was a trio of rain drops. “Lately I haven’t been seeing these as rain drops: I’ve been seeing them as tears.”
The foremare didn’t speak. When the colt realized that an interruption wasn’t coming, he continued awkwardly.
“It sounds dumb, I know,” he stumbled, “but it feels more and more like…my special talent is making other ponies sad. We send the clouds to the ground and all I can think of is how everypony will run inside and wish for the rain to go away. I can’t take it anymore.”
“So how do you plan on solving this problem?” The foremare asked.
“I was thinking of quitting a while ago…oh, that’s not right,” he met her gaze for the first time, “I came in today to quit, but I saw you on the work floor and you were smiling. You’re always smiling! You helped me so much when I was getting started—it’s like you know everything, even how to be happy while making storm clouds! What haven’t I thought of? Why are you happy, boss?”
His voice was sharp with desperation. No matter how often she heard them, such cries for help never failed to shake the foremare; they were the same questions she herself had struggled with in the past. Happily, she had come across an answer. She cleared her throat to ensure the colt’s attention.
“A long time ago,” she began, “I had doubts just like yours. I had been working here for only a few months, but it hurt that my career was seen by everypony as a necessary evil. Even worse, I loved to make rain clouds—I still do. But back then, like you said before, it felt like I was only good at making other ponies sad. Eventually, I made a decision.”
“What was it?” the colt asked excitedly.
“I quit.”
His heart sunk. He felt so sure that she had been describing his situation as well as her own. But she was still there, and as the forepony no less—that couldn’t have been the answer he was looking for.
“You…quit?”
The foremare chuckled. “The only thing that cheered me up was making more rain clouds,” she said, “but the rain was what made me sad in the first place. I was trapped, so I decided to try something that would make me and everypony else happier, even if it didn’t concern my special talent.”
“What did you do?”
“I went to the ground—Ponyville, to be exact. I lived with a good friend while I looked for a job to support myself. Can you guess what happened then?”
“I dunno if I should,” he said, a smile creeping across his face.
“Go on, I don’t mind.”
“You, uh…it didn’t work out?”
“That’s putting it lightly!” she clapped her hooves together. “Basket weaving, cooking, package delivery, clearing the clouds, daycare—I was terrible at each and every one of them, and I was miserable to boot. All the while everypony kept telling me I had to go back to Cloudsdale to make rain! I thought everypony hated storms, but it turned out I was making everypony miserable anyway by trying to run away from my talent.”
Even though the story made sense, the colt remained unsatisfied. Was this the best he could hope for? Could he only choose between making himself happy or sad while others suffered regardless? Perhaps the foremare could accept something like that, but not him. There had to be something more.
“Are you following me?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said softly, and he rose to his hooves. “Thank you.”
His head hung low as he moved toward the door.
“Whoa there!” she called out, “Did I say I was done? Don’t run out of here looking like that!”
“There’s more?” he turned back, his face brightening again. He knew she wouldn’t let him down!
“There sure is!” she said. The look on his face delighted her more than she could describe. “Sit down, sit down. Let me tell you what happened when I finally came back to Cloudsdale.”
In contrast to his earlier jumpiness, he sat in front of the desk so heavily that nothing could tear him away. “Thank Celestia!” he panted, “I haven’t heard it yet, boss, but I feel better already.”
The foremare had been prepared to speak, but she suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, and the baffled colt couldn’t help but join in. She wiped tears from her eyes and shook herself.
“Oh, that was a good laugh!” she sighed. “Let’s get down to business, though. What do you mean ‘I haven’t heard it yet’?”
“Well, uh,” he faltered, “I mean you…just knowing you have a good answer makes me feel better, I mean, even if you haven’t told me yet…I mean.”
“Have you been listening to me at all?”
They had been laughing together just a second ago. What happened to that? “Of course, boss. I listened.”
“Then you’ve already heard it. You didn’t expect me to say that everypony loves storms after all, did you? You’re not foalish enough to believe that.”
“Well,” he said indignantly, “I thought you’d say something I haven’t thought of, that’s all.”
“You think too much.”
“What? How can—” he closed his eyes and paused. There had to be something more. “…okay.”
“Good!” the foremare nodded. She could see he was finally going to trust her. “When I returned, you could say I bounced in the opposite direction from when I left—I put all of my heart into making rain clouds, and I refused to leave the city. After all, you never hear Cloudsdale ponies whining about rain. I was promoted before long, but I still worked the floor at the expense of my new responsibilities. I was caught in another trap: to keep from thinking about ponies who didn’t like rain, I worked longer and harder than ever.”
“You must have been miserable,” he said.
“Nope,” she shook her head, “I didn’t have time for misery—that’s the point. It wasn’t any way to live, though.”
“So what stopped you?”
“It was three years ago,” she said, “when the Princess came for a visit.”
He knew it! Nopony was wiser than the Princess, so of course she would have the advice he needed!
“You got to meet Princess Celestia?” he asked in awe, “What did she tell you? How did she know?”
“Didn’t I say you think too much?”
She reached across her desk and turned the picture so he could see. It was a photograph of herself, beaming at the side of Princess Luna.
Skepticism crossed his features for a moment, but was soon replaced by a widening grin of understanding.
“Don’t get ahead of me, mister,” the foremare said with as serious a face as she could muster. “I’m sure you understand already, but let me finish.”
“Okey-dokey!”
He was making a ridiculous face, but she willed herself to focus. “Yes, as you already know, Princess Luna came to visit—she and Princess Celestia,” she said. “Since I was in charge, I showed them around a bit, and as we were talking I mentioned how ‘some ponies,’” she drew quotes in the air with her hooves, “were feeling a bit down.”
The colt’s eyes widened in anticipation.
“Then and there,” the foremare continued emphatically, “she jumped into the air and started comparing herself—Luna, the Princess of Equestria—to us regular ponies! ‘Clear skies and storms,’ she declared, ‘are no different than the day and the night. One cannot be without the other; neither is sufficient on its own.’
“She said she was shocked at first when she realized her sister had continued the cycle of sun and moon in her absence from Equestria. ‘Why would Princess Celestia ever choose to yield her glorious day to the gloomy night?’ she wondered. Princess Luna said her jealousy prevented her from seeing that it was for the same reason we make rain clouds to cover the clear sky: balance. Everything needs balance to survive.
“Our work here involves no less than maintaining Equestria’s balance alongside the Princesses themselves. That’s exactly what we do here: wherever we send them, our clouds take priority over the sun and the moon! What do you think of that?”
There was no other way to describe it. “I think I have the best job in the world!”
“But don’t let it go to your head,” she warned. “That mark on your flank isn’t a brand you got by good or bad luck—it doesn’t just mean you have talent, it means you love your talent. Try showing that from now on instead of moping. If somepony asks, tell them what you do with the same feeling you get when you make the rain clouds, and they’ll understand.”
“I will, boss,” he said firmly as he came to his hooves. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”
“You can start by not calling me ‘boss.’ I have a name, you know.”
“Sorry, boss—I mean, uh, Raindrops.”
“Miss Raindrops!”
“Sorry!”
As the colt exited her office with his head held high, Raindrops pulled the photograph toward her and carefully removed it from its frame. On its back was a long tally to which she added a single mark.
“That’s another one for you, Princess.”