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

<passage>:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Harper Breen sank down gingerly into the new Relaxo-Lounge. He placed twitching hands on the arm-rests and laid his head back stiffly. He closed his fluttering eyelids and clamped his mouth to keep the corner "Just lie back, Harp," droned his sister soothingly. "Just give in and let go of everything." Harper tried to let go of everything. He gave in to the chair. And tenderly. With velvety cushions it massaged his back and arms and legs. For all of five minutes Harper stood it. Then with a frenzied lunge he escaped the embrace of the Relaxo-Lounge and fled to a gloriously stationary sofa. causing your trouble. He told you to take a long vacation or you'd crack up. Don't blame him for your own stubbornness." Harper snorted. His large nose developed the sound magnificently. Scribney, whose large, phlegmatic person and calm professorial brain were the complete antithesis of Harper's picked-crow physique and scheming financier's wits, looked severely over his glasses. Harp's nervous tribulations were beginning to bore him, as well as interfere was when he saw the line about the robots. "—the only hotel staffed entirely with robot servants—" The trip out did Harper a world of good. Under the influence of the soporific gas that permeated the rocket, he really relaxed for the themselves into deceleration hammocks for the landing. And then Harper was waking with lassitude still heavy in his veins. He struggled out of the hammock, made his way to the airlock, and found himself whisked by wheelchairs, carrying trays, guiding newcomers, performing janitorial duties tirelessly, promptly, and best of all, silently. Harper was enthralled. He'd staff his offices with them. Hang the expense! There'd be no more of that obnoxious personal friction and proneness to error that was always deviling the most carefully trained desk clerk who, poor man, was a high strung fellow human instead of a robot. Harper watched him shrinking and turning pale lavender in the stress of the argument. the hotel is staffed entirely with robots. They're much more expensive, really, than human employees, but so much more efficient, you know. Admit it, they give excellent service, don't they, now?" Toothily he Harper snorted. "Wants someone she can devil," he diagnosed. "Someone she can get a kick out of ordering around." With vast contempt he stepped to the desk beside her and peremptorily rapped for the clerk. rest-cure, no treatments. You can assign my quarters before continuing your—ah—discussion with the lady." The clerk sputtered. Mrs. Jacobsen sputtered. But not for nothing was "Here you are, Mr. Breen. I'm sure you'll find it comfortable." With a pallid smile he pressed a button and consigned Harper to the care of a silent and efficient robot. The room was more than comfortable. It was beautiful. Its bank of clear well-being he returned to his room and prepared to relax. Harper opened his eyes. Two robots were bending over him. He saw that they were dressed in white, like hospital attendants. But he had no Inexorably it pushed him flat. "You've got the wrong room!" yelled Harp. "Let me go!" But the hypo began to take effect. His yells became weaker and drowsier. Hazily, as he drifted off, he thought of Mrs. Jacobsen. Maybe she had something, There was a tentative knock on the door. "Come in," called Harper bleakly. As soon as the door opened he regretted his invitation, for The robots ignored him. For the first time in his spectacular and ruthless career Harper was up against creatures that he could neither bribe, persuade nor browbeat, inveigle nor ignore. It shattered his ebbing self-confidence. He began waving his hands helplessly. The robots not only ignored Harper. They paid no attention at all to Jake Ellis, who was plucking at their metallic arms pleading, "Take me, boys. I need the treatment bad, whatever it is. I need all the treatment I can get. Take me! I'm just a wreck, fellers—" Stolidly they picked Harper up, plunked him into the chair, strapped him down and marched out with him. Dejectedly Ellis returned to his own room. Again he lifted the receiver but as usual a robot voice answered sweetly, mechanically, and meaninglessly. He hung up and went miserably to bed. There was something nagging at Harper's mind. Something he should do. Something that concerned robots. But he was too exhausted to think it stood over him until he consumed them. They purged and massaged and exercised him. Whenever they let him alone, he simply collapsed into bed and slept. There was nothing else to do anyway. They'd taken his clothes and the that assinine clerk was registering me. I'll bet that clerk got rattled and gave me the wrong key. I'll bet you're supposed to have this room and I'm getting your treatments. Why don't we switch rooms and see what happens?" Jake, looking over Harper's skimpy frame, grunted doubtfully. "Maybe worry about me. I'll anchor your duds all right." Harper had guessed right. Gleefully from the doorway of his new room he watched the robots wheel away his equally delighted neighbor for his first treatment. Then he closed the door and began to don Jake's up on a skinny neck from a collar three sizes too big. And he was shoeless. He was completely unable to navigate in Jake's number twelves. But Harper was a determined man. He didn't even flinch from the elevator. Only the robots were immune to Harper Breen's progress across the huge suave lobby. inexorably forward. He pointed to Harper. "Get that patient!" he ordered. "Take him to the—to the mud-baths!" "No you don't!" yelled Harper. "I want to see the manager!" Nimbly he circled the guard and leaped behind the desk. He began to throw things returned doggedly to his desk, where he began to pick up things and at the same time phrase his resignation in his mind. Brushing aside the startled secretary in the outer cubicle, Harper flapped and shuffled straight into the inner sanctum. The manager, who was busy chewing a cigar to shreds behind his fortress of gun metal downstairs in garb that makes a laughing stock of me? Do you know why? Because that assinine clerk of yours put me in the wrong room and those damnable robots of yours then proceeded to make a prisoner of me! Me, Harper S. Breen! Why, I'll sue you until you'll be lucky if you have a sheet of writing-paper left in this idiot's retreat!" Hayes, the manager, blanched. Then he began to mottle in an apoplectic Listening, an amazing calm settled on Harper. Thoughtfully now he hooked a chair to the desk with his stockinged foot, sat down and the hotel." Coming around to Harper, he effusively shook Harp's scrawny hand, and then personally escorted him not merely to the door but across the lobby to the elevator. Harper gazed out at the stunned audience. This was more like the

<question>:
How did Harper and Jake Ellis intend to have different experiences during their stay at the hotel?

<options>:
A Jake Ellis wanted to receive wellness treatments while Harper simply wanted an uninterrupted stay.
B Jake Ellis intended to make business deals while on vacation while Harper intended to relax.
C Harper had intended on meeting Jake Ellis to buy his company, while Jake Ellis did not plan to meet him.
D Only Harper was assigned the wrong room and received the wrong treatment during his stay.

<answer>:

A