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

<passage>:
Illustrated by Bernklau [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science is in fact dangerous. It's your view of the matter that counts! There was a dizzy, sickening whirl of mental blackness—not true blackness, but a mind-enveloping darkness that was filled with the not-blackness faded. The associative powers of the mind began putting unfamiliar. For a moment, that seemed perfectly understandable. Why shouldn't the room look odd, after he had gone through— that the room itself was unfamiliar as a whole the effect was greater aware that only the pattern was different, not the details. heavy, a big-boned frame covered with hard, well-trained muscles. His hair and beard were a dark blond, and rather shaggy because of the time he'd spent in prison. Prison! Yes, he'd been in prison. The rough clothing he was wearing was certainly nothing like the type of dress he was used to. He tried to force his memory to give him the information he was looking for, but it wouldn't come. A face flickered in his mind for a moment, Italian's face, but he could neither remember the reason for it nor when some kind. It was some sort of carpeting that covered the floor from The room was well lit. The illumination came from the ceiling, which seemed to be made of some glowing, semitranslucent metal that cast a shadowless glow over everything. There was a large, bulky table near the it looked almost normal, except that the objects on it were like nothing that had ever existed. Their purposes were unknown, and their shapes meaningless. The walls, at least, looked familiar. They seemed to be paneled in some fine wood. He walked over and touched it. And knew immediately that, no matter what it looked like, it wasn't wood. The illusion was there to the eye, but no wood ever had such a hard, smooth, glasslike surface as this. He jerked his fingertips away. He recognized, then, the emotion that had made him turn away from the was fear. his palm and held it there. There was nothing to be afraid of! He laughed at himself softly. He'd faced death a hundred times during the war without showing fear notice before. He walked over to it and looked at the queerly-shaped things that lay on its shining surface. He had already decided that the table was no more wood than the wall, and a touch of a finger to the surface verified the decision. The only thing that looked at all familiar on the table was a sheaf of the neat characters, so unlike any that he knew. He couldn't read a word immediately discernible. There were several rows of studs with various unrecognizable symbols on them. in the stillness of the room, and he leaped prisoner had told him, the more elusive it became. some were lost entirely, while others remained clear and bright. What see a gleam of light coming through the division in the curtains. the building he was in. He stepped over, parted the curtains, and— It was night time outside, and the sky was clear. He recognized the familiar constellations up there. But they were dimmed by the light from the city that stretched below him. And what a city! At first, it was difficult for his eyes to convey their impressions intelligently to his brain. What they were recording was so unfamiliar that his brain could not decode the messages they sent. There were broad, well-lit streets that stretched on and on, as far as everything. He forced himself to look down, and it made him dizzy. The building he was in was so high that it would have projected through the immediate surroundings, looked almost homey after seeing that monstrous, He skirted the table with its still-humming machine and walked toward the door that led to the other room. A picture hanging on a nearby wall caught his eye, and he stopped. It was a portrait of a man in unfamiliar, outlandish clothing, but Broom had seen odder clothing in his travels. But the thing that had stopped him was the amazing reality of the picture. It was almost as if there were a mirror there, reflecting the face of a man who stood invisibly before it. It wasn't, of course it was only a painting. But the lifelike, somber eyes of the man were focused directly on him. Broom decided he didn't like the effect at all, and hurried into the next room. from the walls. He stopped and looked down. This floor wasn't covered it had a square, mosaic pattern, as though it might be composed of tile of some kind. And yet, though it was harder than the carpet it had a kind of queer resiliency of its own. The room itself was larger than the one he had just quitted, and not as that he had a weapon of some kind. Even a knife would have made him feel better. But there had been no chance of that, of course. Prisoners of war are Contarini had said that it would be ... how had he said it? "Like Did anyone know he was here? He had the uneasy feeling that hidden, unseen eyes were watching his every move, and yet he could detect that he had seen no one set his nerves on edge even more than the sight of a known enemy would have done. He was suddenly no longer interested in his surroundings. He felt trapped in this strange, silent room. He could see a light shining The door had a pane of translucent glass in it, and there were more of the unreadable characters on it. He wished fervently that he could He looked down at it, wondering if there were any way the door could be locked. There was a tiny vertical slit set in a small metal panel in the It didn't matter. If necessary, he could smash the glass to get through the one he had just come through. How did a man get out of this place, They were all locked. He knew that he could break into any of them, but all looked as though they concealed more of the big rooms. come through showed the telltale glow from the other side. Why? He had the terrible feeling that he had been drawn across time to this stone-walled dungeon, with its smelly straw beds, lit only by the faint shaft of sunlight that came from the barred window high overhead. my friend. It is the mind and the mind alone that sees the flow of time. The body experiences, but does not see. Only the soul is capable of Contarini nodded. "Why not? Did not the saints do so? And what was that? battlefield, dealing death in hand-to-hand combat, and the Italian He felt a chill run through him. What was he doing here? How could he have taken it all so calmly. Afraid of man or devil, no—but this was neither. He had to get back. The utter alienness of this bright, shining, lifeless wonderland was too much for him. The door was as he had left it, the porcelain dish still in place. He the door shut itself behind him. He ran on, through the large room with its many tables, into the brightly lighted room beyond. the Italian had told him to do, and he could not for the life of him He did not hear the intruder until the man's voice echoed in the room. hard-trained body tensed for action. There was a man standing in the coat, and there was a fleshiness about his face that betrayed too much good living. He was saying something in a language that Broom did not understand, and And the fear hit him again in a raging flood, sweeping over his mind and blotting it out. Again, the darkness came. This time, the blackness faded quickly. There was a face, a worried face, looking at him through an aperture in the stone wall. The The face was that of the Italian, Contarini. He was looking both worried Of that there can be no doubt. Why did you return?" of coffee. When I came back, he was here—a big, bearded man, wearing a he was holding that in his hand when I saw him. What? Oh. Where did he go?" Mr. Jasperson paused in his rush of words. "Well, I must have gotten a little dizzy—I was pretty shocked, you know. To be honest, I didn't see

<question>:
Why was the painting so clear?

<options>:
A Broom had never seen a painting
B Broom's fuzziness made it look clearer than it was
C It was special future paint
D It was a photograph

<answer>:

D