The narrator has such specific and detailed knowledge of Omelas that it seems as though he or she might have lived there once. The narrator knows what the life of the children is like, what the horses wear and how they act, the names and locations of natural landmarks such...
The narrator has such specific and detailed knowledge of Omelas that it seems as though he or she might have lived there once. The narrator knows what the life of the children is like, what the horses wear and how they act, the names and locations of natural landmarks such as the mountains, even what the air smells like, and how and when the bells ring.
Or perhaps the city is an overtly pure fiction, and the narrator is just the person who poses this imaginary situation? The narrator only "suspect[s]" that the laws are few, and he or she does not know what those laws are. By repeating the first-person plural pronoun, "we," the narrator seems to establish him or herself as one of "us" and not one of them. The narrator says that "[The residents of Omelas] were not less complex than us." And he or she speaks of how we view happiness, how little of it we truly seem to feel, especially compared to these individuals. In many ways, Omelas does seem like a made-up place: the narrator tells us to go ahead and imagine it however we like in some ways. They might have technology like ours, or not. The narrator tells us to "add an orgy" if the city feels too goody-goody to us. Since these details are unimportant, even unknown, then Omelas very much could be implied to be, even by the narrator, a fictional city only.
The narrator's description of the child is unemotional, clinical, and very matter-of-fact, and he or she reserves judgment. The narrator says,
If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms. To exchange all the goodness and grace of every life in Omelas for that single, small improvement: to throw away the happiness of thousands for the chance of the happiness of one . . .
The narrator presents the potential benefit and disadvantage of each possibility. In doing so, he or she seems to take a fairly objective view on the child and the situation in which the town finds itself. The narrator reserves judgment, just as those who walk away from the town seem to do.