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

<passage>:
THE RUMBLE AND THE ROAR The noise was too much for him. He wanted quiet—at any price. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] When Joseph got to the office his ears were aching from the noise of the copter and from his earplugs. Lately, every little thing seemed to make him irritable. He supposed it was because his drafting department was behind schedule on the latest Defense contract. His ears were sore and his stomach writhed with dyspepsia, and his feet hurt. Walking through the clerical office usually made him feel better. The constant clatter of typewriters and office machines gave him a sense of efficiency, of stability, an all-is-well-with-the-world feeling. He waved to a few of the more familiar employees and smiled, but of course you couldn't say hello with the continual racket. This morning, somehow, it didn't make him feel better. He supposed it was because of the song they were playing over the speakers, "Slam Bang Boom," the latest Top Hit. He hated that song. Of course the National Mental Health people said constant music had a beneficial effect on office workers, so Joseph was no one to object, even though he did wonder if anyone could ever actually listen to it over the other noise. In his own office the steady din was hardly diminished despite soundproofing, and since he was next to an outside wall he was to the homogeneous rumble and scream of turbines. , he thought. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Nerves. Nerves. He turned around and got his private secretary on the viewer. She simpered at him, trying to be friendly with her dull, sunken eyes. therapist for me this afternoon. Tell him it's just a case of nerves, though." "Yes sir. Anything else?" Her voice, like every one's, was a high pitched screech trying to be heard above the noise. Joseph switched off. That was a damn funny way of saying it , he thought. "I want you to leave me alone." As if somebody were after me. He spent about an hour on routine paperwork and then Bob Wills showed up so Joseph switched off his dictograph and let him in. headache. Nerves, you know." "Sure, Mister Partch. I won't take a minute I just thought you'd like to have a look at the first model of our widget and get clued in on our progress so far...." "Yes, yes, just go ahead. How does the thing work?" It was an interesting problem, or at any rate should have been. It was one that had been harassing cities, industry, and particularly air-fields, for many years. Of course, every one wore earplugs—and that helped a little. And some firms had partially solved the problem by using personnel that were totally deaf, because such persons were the only ones who could stand the terrific noise levels that a technological civilization forced everyone to endure. The noise from a commercial rocket motor on the ground had been known to drive men mad, and sometimes kill them. There had never seemed to be any wholly satisfactory solution. But now Bob Wills apparently had the beginnings of a real answer. A device that would use the principle of interference to cancel out sound waves, leaving behind only heat. It should have been fascinating to Partch, but somehow he couldn't make himself get interested in it. "The really big problem is the power requirement," Wills was saying. "We've got to use a lot of energy to cancel out big sound waves, but we've got several possible answers in mind and we're working on all of them." He caressed the crackle-finish box fondly. "The basic gimmick works fine, though. Yesterday I took it down to a static test stand over in building 90 and had them turn on a pretty fair-sized steering rocket for one of the big moon-ships. Reduced the noise-level by about 25 per cent, it did. Of course, I still needed my plugs." Joseph nodded approvingly and stared vacantly into the maze of transistors and tubes. "I've built it to work on ordinary 60 cycle house current," Wills told him. "In case you should want to demonstrate it to anybody." Partch became brusque. He liked Bob, but he had work to do. the good work he was doing. Only after he was gone and Joseph was alone again behind the closed door, did he realize that he had a sudden yearning for company, for someone to talk to. was getting an ulcer. Yes, he decided, he was going to have to have a long talk with Dr. Coles that afternoon. Be a pleasure to get it all off his chest, his feeling of melancholia, his latent sense of doom. Be good just to talk He spat a sesame seed against the far wall and the low whir of the automatic vacuum cleaner rose and fell briefly. Joseph winced. The speakers were playing "Slam Bang Boom" again. inward on himself. Of what, after all, did Joseph Partch's life consist? He licked his fingers and thought about it. What would he do this evening after work, for instance? Why, he'd stuff his earplugs back in his inflamed ears and board the commuter's copter and ride for half an hour listening to the drumming of the rotors and the pleading of the various canned commercials played on the copter's speakers loud enough to be heard over the engine noise and through the plugs. And then when he got home, there would be the continuous yammer of his wife added to the Tri-Di set going full blast and the dull food from the automatic kitchen. And synthetic coffee and one stale cigaret. bomb were going to be dropped down the chimney, and you had no way of And what would there be to do after he had finished dinner that night? Why, the same things he had been doing every night for the past fifteen years. There would be Tri-Di first of all. The loud comedians, and the musical commercials, and the loud bands, and the commercials, and the loud songs.... And every twenty minutes or so, the viewer would jangle with one of Perhaps there would be company that night, to play cards and sip drinks and talk and talk and talk, and never say a thing at all. There would be aircraft shaking the house now and then, and the cry of the monorail horn at intervals. And then, at last, it would be time to go to bed, and the murmur of the somnolearner orating him on the Theory of Groups all through the long night. of the alarm clock and whatever disc jockey the clock radio happened to Dimly, he wondered of what civilization itself would be constructed if all the sounds were once taken away. Why of Man so noisy? It was almost as if—as if everybody were making as Like a little boy whistling loudly as he walks by a cemetery at night. went screaming through the streets like wounded dragons. Sirens, bells. Police whistles. and noise. space would be like. reduce the noise level of a rocket motor by 25 per cent, Wills had said. Here in the office, the sound level was less than that of a rocket motor. get a grip on himself. This was silly, childish.... But looking down, he found that he had already plugged in the line cord. An almost erotic excitement began to shake Joseph's body. The sound window, filling the office with an ocean of noise. perfect foetal position. Never be the same again, I'm afraid." "The shock must have been tremendous. An awful psychic blow, especially to a person as emotionally disturbed as Mr. Partch was." "Yes, that machine of Mr. Wills' is extremely dangerous. What amazes me is that it didn't kill Partch altogether. Good thing we got to him when we did." "Yes, you know it is incredible how much the human mind can sometimes take, actually. As you say, it's a wonder it didn't kill him." "Perfectly horrible. How could any modern human stand it? Two hours, he two hours of total silence!"

<question>:
Why did the factory play the song "Slam Bang Boom" multiple times?

<options>:
A To purposefully annoy Mr. Partch
B It was Mr. Partch's favorite song
C To cover the noise from the factory
D To benefit the workers mental health

<answer>:

D