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

<passage>:
“Normality” is a myth we're all a little neurotic, and the study of neurosis has been able to classify the general types of disturbance which are most common. And some types (providing the subject is not suffering so extreme a case as to have crossed the border into psychosis) can be not only useful, but perhaps necessary for certain kinds of work.... birch and willow, limp in the evening quiet, and the taste of phonograph playing in one of the summer cabins with names like Polly Ann Roost and Patches and Seventh Heaven, but to Kimmy it was the hated cry of the Father of Therns calling the dreadful Plant Men to their feast of Kimmy shifted the heavy Martian pistol into his left hand and checked Then he stopped smiling and turned away from the window. It hadn’t been an easy path and what was coming up now was the hardest part. The goddam psychs were the toughest, always wanting him to bug out on the deal because of their brainwave graphs and word association tests and their Rorschach blots. “You’re a lonely man, Colonel Kimball——” “Too much imagination could be bad for this job.” How could you sit there with pentothal in your veins and wires running out of your head and tell them about the still waters of Korus, or the that madrone, Kimmy thought. Was that a Plant Man? The thick white trunk tightly, knowing that he [117] could never cope with a Plant Man with a sword For a moment, Kimmy felt a thrill of apprehension. The deepening Kimmy’s eyes narrowed and he waded stealthily across the sacred river. sang. Kimmy stepped cautiously ashore and moved into the cover of a silence, studying the red figure of the man who was to ride the rocket. They were thinking: Why him? Out of all the scores of applicants—because there are always applicants for a sure-death job—and all the qualified pilots, why this one? The Public Relations Officer was speaking now, reading from the mimeoed release as though these civilians couldn’t be trusted to get the sparse information given them straight without his help, given grudgingly and without expression. Kimball listened, only half aware of what was being said. He watched the faces of the men sitting on the rows of folding chairs, saw their eyes like wounds, red from the early morning hour and the murmuring reception of the night before in the Officers’ Club. They are wondering how I feel, he was thinking. And asking themselves why I want to go. On the dais nearby, listening to the PRO, but watching Kimball, sat Steinhart, the team analyst. Kimball returned his steady gaze thinking: They start out burning with desire to cure the human mind and end with the shadow of the images. The words become the fact, the therapy the aim. What could Steinhart know of longing? No, he thought, I’m not being fair. Steinhart was only doing his job. Kimball looked around the room at the pale faces, the open mouths. What have I to do with you now, he thought? As they filed out of the briefing shack, Steinhart climbed into the command car with Kimball. Chance or design? Kimball wondered. The others, he noticed, were leaving both of them alone. “We haven’t gotten on too well, have we, Colonel?” Steinhart observed in a quiet voice. reminds me of? Shouldn’t there be a diadem on his forehead? He smiled Steinhart reached for a cigaret and then stopped, remembering that Kimball had had to give them up because of the flight. Kimball caught the movement and half-smiled. “I didn’t try to kill the assignment for you, Kim,” the psych said. “It doesn’t matter now.” “No, I suppose not.” “You just didn’t think I was the man for the job.” “Your record is good all the way. You know that,” Steinhart [119] said. “It’s just some of the things——” Kimball said: “I talked too much.” “You had to.” “You wouldn’t think my secret life was so dangerous, would you,” the Colonel said smiling. “You were married, Kim. What happened?” “More therapy?” “I’d like to know. This is for me.” Kimball shrugged. “It didn’t work. She was a fine girl—but she finally told me it was no go. ‘You don’t live here’ was the way she put it.” what did she expect——?” “That isn’t what she meant. You know that.” “Yes,” the psych said slowly. “I know that.” “I wish you luck, Kim,” Steinhart said. “I mean “Thanks.” Vaguely, as though from across a deep and widening gulf. “What will you do?” “You know the answers as well as I,” the Colonel said “Kim,” Steinhart said slowly. “There’s something you “Yes?” Disinterest in his voice now, Steinhart noted clinically. Natural under the circumstances? Or neurosis building up already? “Our tests showed you to be a schizoid—well-compensated, of course. You know there’s no such thing as a normal human being. We all have tendencies toward one or more types of psychoses. In your case the symptoms are an overly active imagination and in some cases an inability to distinguish reality from—well, fancy.” Kimball turned to regard the psych coolly . “What’s reality, Steinhart? Do you know?” The analyst flushed. “No.” “I didn’t think so.” Steinhart went on doggedly. “You were a solitary, a lonely child.” [120] Steinhart felt futile and out of his depth. “We know so little about the psychology of space-flight, Kim——” “You’re glad to be leaving, aren’t you—” Steinhart said finally. “Happy to be the first man to try for the planets——” Kimmy saw the girls before they saw him. In their new, low waisted “Kimm-eeeee—” voices carry down to where he hid from the dangers of the Valley Dor. “Where is that little brat, anyway?” “He always wanders off just at dinnertime and then we have to find him——” “Playing with that old faucet—” Mimicry. “‘My rad-ium pis-tol——’” “Cracked—just cracked. Oh, where IS he, anyway? Kimmm-eee, you Something died in him. It wasn’t a faucet, it WAS a radium pistol. He looked at his sisters with dismay. They weren’t really his sisters. They were Therns, with their yellow hair and their pale skins. He and John shifting light of the two moons. [121] “Kimmmm—eeee Mom’s going to be mad at you! Answer us!” If only Tars Tarkas would come now. If only the great Green Jeddak would clashing—— “Kimmy! You come down here this instant!” shivered, not with horror now. With cold. as he remembered them through the eyes of a nine-year-old—— And his mother, tall and shadowy, standing on the porch of the rented cottage and saying exasperatedly: “ Why do you run off by yourself, Kimmy? I worry about you so—— ” And his sisters: “ Playing with his wooden swords and his radium pistol and never wanting to take his nose out of those awful books—— ” heat of the summer nights and the thick longing in his throat for red which lived, for him, through some alchemy of the mind. He dreamed of Mars. And Steinhart: “ What is reality, Kimmy? You don’t live here, Kim. ” She was right, of course. He wasn’t of earth. Never had been. My love the sun dwindled and earth What is reality, Kimmy? Steinhart was right, he thought vaguely. A tear streaked his cheek. He had never been so alone. lashed supplies. His hands were clawing desperately at the dogs of the was something moving on Kimmm-eee! Kimmmm-eeeee!

<question>:
Why does Kimmy feel disdain for Steinhart?

<options>:
A He refused to pilot a rocket
B His blond hair and pale skin
C He tried to halt the assignment
D He doesn't like therapists

<answer>:

C