The answer to that first question will vary from reader to reader.
If you're particularly astute or just pretty cynical, you probably suspected that something was amiss in the town as soon as you read the title of the story. The word "Omelas" is unfamiliar, but because the title is "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas," you pretty much realize right away that Omelas is a place. And you might figure that, if people are walking away from the place, and if the story is about those people who leave, then perhaps something dubious is going on in Omelas, wherever that is.
Other readers might start to suspect that something untoward is going on in Omelas as they read that long first paragraph that bombards the senses with the epic Disney-like description of the Festival of Summer. Joyous clanging bells? Fluttering banners? Dancing people? Prancing horses? It sounds great, but this is a story for grown-ups, not the text of some picture book of bedtime stories. A lot of readers right here will start to wonder what's going on beyond all this foofaraw, especially if they're somewhat familiar with the author.
But readers who trust the author or who somehow expect a happy, birds-chirping, ribbon-flying kind of story might not know something is up in Omelas until the narrator calls attention to the fact that the place seems "goody-goody":
But even granted trains, I fear that Omelas so far strikes some of you as goody-goody. Smiles, bells, parades, horses, bleh. If so, please add an orgy. If an orgy would help, don't hesitate.
At that point, some readers will start to wonder why the narrator is talking about the city appearing to be all happy and utopian; they might wonder then what's going on that can't be seen at the festival.
Still, some readers may be willing to accept the description of Omelas as a place that's just swell. They might not suspect anything different until the narrator drops this comment:
Do you believe? Do you accept the festival, the city, the joy? No? Then let me describe one more thing.
That phrase, "one more thing," feels ominous. What's the thing? Is it a surprise, because the narrator has waited this long to reveal it? Yes.
The following paragraph reveals the horrible aspect of Omelas in all its hideous detail, so if you got all the way to the description of the basement with the locked door and the stinky mops without suspecting that something was wrong, then you have no more time to suspect. That's when you find out for certain what's amiss in Omelas.
The ending, thankfully, involves a description of the people who can't bear to accept the situation with the imprisoned and abused child.
On the one hand, the author prepares readers for this ending by titling the story like she did. Even though we're caught up in reading about the beauty and joy of Omelas, and then the horror it countenances, in the back of our minds we still know that we're reading a story called "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas," so we know that some of these citizens aren't going to tolerate the situation.
On the other hand, the ending is still a surprise. The narrator has spent so much time talking about how citizens react to the abused child, and about how they continue on with their daily lives in spite of their knowledge that he or she is suffering. We're just starting to deal with the fact that these citizens have their little joyous summer festival even while knowing that the child is suffering, and we're focused on our outrage. That's when the author slips in the surprise ending that lightens things up and restores a bit of hope into the statement she's apparently making about the dark side of human nature. The startling fact that some of these citizens give up their utopian lifestyle to "keep walking, and walk straight out of the city of Omelas" comes not only as a surprise, but also as a relief.
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