Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
years after he had written those prophetic words the thing was had bred a pestilence. And the whole vast cycle of events was but a detail of a cyclopean plan. Chambers took his cigar. That was all. For people long ago had gathered that Mr. Chambers desired to be Weakly Mr. Chambers moved back to his chair in the corner. revolutionary to cost Mr. Chambers his post at the university. October wind was rustling the dead leaves when Mr. Chambers expulsion from the university, he had lived by the clock. The same thing, at the same time, day after day. He had not deliberately set upon such a life of routine. A bachelor, living alone with sufficient money to supply his humble needs, the timed existence had grown on him gradually. snarling and growling, snapping at his heels. But Mr. Chambers pretended not to notice and the beast gave up the chase. was blurting floated to Mr. Chambers. "Oh, well," said Mr. Chambers, "I never did like that very well." The wind whipped the muted words away and Mr. Chambers grumbled Something one could expect to happen. Perhaps, if he thought hard enough, he could bring them back. But, after all, what was the use? One man, alone, could not stand Mr. Chambers had written. But as Mr. Chambers neared them they fell into what seemed an years, ever since the people had become convinced that he did not wish to talk. then stepped back and Mr. Chambers continued on his walk. Mr. Chambers started. The clock had stopped. Funny ... the first had started out at seven and returned at a quarter of eight. Now.... It wasn't until then that he realized something else was wrong. Shaken, muttering to himself, Mr. Chambers let himself in his But silence was no strange thing to Mr. Chambers. Once he had unexplainable terror. Beyond them he never went. But recluse though he was, he could not on occasion escape from And so he knew that this was the year 1960 and that the wars in Europe and Asia had flamed to an end to be followed by a terrible plague, a plague that even now was sweeping through country after country like wild fire, decimating populations. A plague undoubtedly induced by hunger and privation and the miseries of war. But those things he put away as items far removed from his own small world. He disregarded them. He pretended he had never heard had forgotten his cigar. Huddled in the chair, he frowned slowly. It was disquieting to have something like that happen. There must be something wrong. Had his long exile finally turned his mind ... perhaps just a Mr. Chambers loved that picture. It had depth, he always said. It Further reverie became an effort as Mr. Chambers felt himself succumbing to weariness. He undressed and went to bed. For an hour he lay awake, assailed by vague fears he could neither define nor understand. When finally he dozed off it was to lose himself in a series of horrific dreams. He dreamed first that he was a castaway on a steadily those serpents were devouring the island. In another dream he was pursued by a horror which he could neither see nor hear, but only could imagine. And as he sought to flee he stayed in the one place. His legs worked frantically, pumping like pistons, but he could make no progress. It was as if he ran upon a treadway. Then again the terror descended on him, a black, unimagined thing strained his vocal cords and filled his lungs to bursting with the urge to shriek ... but not a sound came from his lips. All next day he was uneasy and as he left the house that evening, at precisely seven o'clock, he kept saying to himself: "You must not forget tonight! You must remember to stop and get your cigar!" For the first time in twenty years, Mr. Chambers retraced his Now he understood why he had missed the store on the night before, why he had arrived home fifteen minutes early. On legs that were dead things he stumbled back to his home. He slammed and locked the door behind him and made his way Mr. Chambers shivered, reached to turn up the collar of his coat, merrily in the grate. The cold he felt came from something ... somewhere else. The cold of fear and horror, the chill of a half whispered thought. There was something back of this, Mr. Chambers told himself. the happenings in the world from which he had excluded himself. He brought them back to mind now and lingered over the one central theme of the talk he overheard: the wars and plagues. Hints of a Europe and Asia swept almost clean of human life, of the plague ravaging Africa, of its appearance in South America, of the frantic efforts of the United States to prevent its spread into that nation's boundaries. Millions of people were dead in Europe and Asia, Africa and South And somehow those gruesome statistics seemed tied up with his own experience. Something, somewhere, some part of his earlier life, seemed to hold an explanation. But try as he would his befuddled Mr. Chambers got to his feet, strode to the door, opened it and With a sigh of relief, Mr. Chambers turned back into the hall. Gulping in fright, Mr. Chambers slammed the door shut, locked it remembered them, one by one. But his mind, still fogged by sleep and astonishment, took the happenings in its stride, mulled over them, lost the keen edge of fantastic terror that lurked around The light through the windows slowly grew brighter. Mr. Chambers Perhaps if he thought of how his neighbor's house should look, it too might right itself. But Mr. Chambers was very weary. Too that Mr. Chambers' entire life was centered. been set to wagging. Narrow-minded townsfolk, failing to understand either his philosophy or his aim, but seeing in him another exponent of some anti-rational cult, had forced his expulsion from the school. had written that. And because of those words he had been called a heretic, had been compelled to resign his position at the university, had been forced into this hermit life. A tumultuous idea hammered at him. Men had died by the millions all over the world. Where there had been thousands of minds there now were one or two. A feeble force to hold the form of matter intact. The plague had swept Europe and Asia almost clean of life, had blighted Africa, had reached South America ... might even have come to the United States. He remembered the whispers he had heard, the words of the men at the drugstore corner, the Abruptly Mr. Chambers closed the book, shoved it back in the case closed in behind him. The houses were wiped out, the sidewalk faded into nothing. He shouted, hoping to attract attention. But his voice frightened With a wild cry, Mr. Chambers turned and ran. Back down the Mr. Chambers pushed open the door of his house. But he did not there, he stirred them up, raked away the ash, piled on more wood. The flames leaped merrily, dancing in the chimney's throat. Without removing his hat and coat, he sank exhausted in his favorite chair, closed his eyes then opened them again. Mr. Chambers stared at the marine print and for a moment a little For a moment real fear reached out and touched him with chilly fingers. For he knew that this room no longer was proof against children and barking dogs? Might not the Red Star confectionery still exist, splashing the street with the red of its neon sign? Could it be that he was going mad? He had heard whispers when he had passed, whispers the gossiping housewives had not intended him to hear. And he had heard the shouting of boys when he walked by. They thought him mad. Could he be really mad? But he knew he wasn't mad. He knew that he perhaps was the sanest of all men who walked the earth. For he, and he alone, had foreseen this very thing. And the others had scoffed at him for it.

<question>:
Why did Mr. Chambers become a recluse?

<options>:
A He did not like the advancements in technology
B He simply did not like people
C He was exiled after a controversial theory
D He was afraid of the war and following plague

<answer>:

C