With a clamor of bells the sent all the swallows soaring, the festival of Summer came to town. To Omelas, the beautiful city by the sea, and Omelas was ready to recieve it. With streamers stretched between each building and flags strung throughout the rigging of each ship in the harbor. Already people began to crowd around the procession. Some were decorous, old people in long stiff robes, Workmen and the wives walking quiet a merry beside the parade. Others were louder, laughing and happy, children racing through the crowd playing tag, lovers running and dancing arm in arm on the outer edges. The procession itself was quite beautiful, a band of pipers taking the lead followed by a great number of wonderful horses with ribbons and bells braided into their manes and simply a halter with no bit with which the rider guided them. Young girls rode on wagons and threw masses of flowers out into the crowd. simply put it was Joyous
How does one descibe Joy? How describe the citizens of Omelas? They were happy, indescibably so, but they were not simple folk as one would picture. They were no less complex than you and I. Sophists and artists would have you believe that intelligence is defined through pain and torment, that being happy is somehow nieve or stupid. But the people of Omelas were neither, they were mature and knowledgable. They built great buildings and performed great feats, and they were happy. Perhaps this sounds like a dreamworld to you, or a fairytale. Perhaps it should be. However I want to know does this seem possible? Can you see a place where everyone is happy?
If you can't let me describe one more thing. In a basement in one of the beautiful public buildings, there is a room. It has one locked door and no windows. In one corner there is a rusty bucket filled with stiff, foul-smelling mops. The floor is dirt, damp and sticky to the touch. Sitting on the floor is a child, no more than ten years old. It is feeble-minded, perhaps born that way or made that way through years of fear. It sits in the corner farthest away from from the mops picking it's nose and twiddling it's toes. It fears the mops, finds them hideous, but also finds no escape from them even in sleep. Sometimes people come into it's room, they will kick it and glare at it while they fill it's food bowl. Some people will come and watch as this occurs. The child will scream and cry to them, saying "I will be good. Please let me out, I will be good." It says this because it remembers the light outside and the beauty that was Omelas. It's cries are never answered.
Everyone in Omelas knows about the child. They are told as soon as they seem old enough to comprehend. They are also told why. They know that the child's suffering is the reason for their happiness and that if the child were ever to even recieve a kind word from them then the joy in Omelas would wither and die in that instant. Many of them go to see the child because as I said they are not a naive people. They see the horror and injustice that is present within their utopia and are disgusted, they feel hurt and disillusion with their society. They wish that they could release the child from this imprisonment. Eventually however they rationalize it away, for even if the child was released he would never be able to ajdust to a normal life. Then they return to the joy that is Omelas and little wiser but no less happy.
Can you see Omelas now? Can you see it's people? Does the pain in their society make them more believable?