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The central idea of this psychomyth, the scapegoat,
I sat down and started a story, just because I felt like it, with nothing but the word “Omelas” in mind. It came from a road sign: Salem (Oregon) backwards. Don’t you read road signs backwards?
“Where do you get your ideas from, Ms Le Guin?” From forgetting Dostoyevsky and reading road signs backwards, naturally. Where else?
As they did without monarchy and slavery, so they also got on without the stock exchange, the advertisement, the secret police, and the bomb.
One thing I know there is none of in Omelas is guilt.
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: that would be to let guilt within the walls indeed.
But it isn’t an answer. It’s a question.
how hideous a thing would be its enjoyment when deliberately accepted as the fruit of such a bargain.
Omelas already exists: no need to build it or choose it. We already live here – in the narrow, foul, dark prison we let our ignorance, fear, and hatred build for us and keep us in, here in the splendid, beautiful city of life. . . .