But they seem to know where they are going, the ones who walk away from Omelas.
It is possible that it does not exist.
I cannot describe it at all.
The place they go towards is a place even less imaginable to most of us than the city of happiness.
They leave Omelas, they walk ahead into the darkness, and they do not come back.
They go on.
Each alone, they go west or north, towards the mountains.
Night falls; the traveler must pass down village streets, between the houses with yellow-lit windows, and on out into the darkness of the fields.
Each one goes alone, youth or girl, man or woman.
They keep walking across the farmlands of Omelas.
They keep walking, and walk straight out of the city of Omelas, through the beautiful gates.
These people go out into the street, and walk down the street alone.
Sometimes also a man or a woman much older falls silent for a day or two, then leaves home.
At times one of the adolescent girls or boys who go see the child does not go home to weep or rage, does not, in fact, go home at all.