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

<passage>:
By FREDERIC ARNOLD KUMMER, Jr. Elath Taen made mad music for the men of Mars. The red planet lived and would die to the soul-tearing tunes of his fiendish piping. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from plan, building, repairing, bringing their vast energy and progress to decadent Mars, the silent little reddies go their devious ways, following ancient laws which no amount of terrestial logic can shake. Time-bound ritual, mysterious passions and hates, torturous, devious logic ... all these, like dark winding underground streams run beneath the tall fair city that brings such thrilled superlatives to the lips of the terrestial tourists. propaganda off the air-waves. Except for myself, and half a dozen other earthmen in responsible positions, our staff is largely Martian. That's in line with our policy of teaching Mars our civilization until to dish out nationalist propaganda? One hour's program, with the old Martian war-songs being played and some rabble-rouser yelling 'down with the terrestial oppressors' and there'd be a revolution. Millions of reddies against a few police, a couple of regiments of the Foreign city, wan in the light of the twin moons. When he turned to face Ranson again, his eyes were bleak as a lunar plain. "One thing," he said slowly. "The music." "Music?" Ranson echoed. "Look here, Mr. Haller, you...." "It's all right." Jared Haller grinned crookedly. "I'm not insane. Yet. Look, Mr. Ranson! There's just one clue to these mysterious deaths! And that's the music! In each instance the servants told of hearing, very faintly, a strange melody. Music that did queer things to them, even though they could hear it only vaguely. Music like none they'd ever heard. Like the devil's pipes, playing on their souls, while.... Almighty God!" could hear the vague rumbling of the city, with the distant swish of canal boats, the staccato roar of rockets as some earth-bound freighter leaped from the spaceport. Familiar, homey sounds, these, but beneath them, like an undercurrent of madness, ran the macabre melody. There was, there had never been, Ranson knew, any music like this. It was the pipes of Pan, the chant of robots, the crying of souls in torment. It was a cloudy purple haze that engulfed the mind, it was a silver knife plucking a cruel obligato on taut nerves, it was a thin Neither man moved. Ranson knew all the tricks of visual hypnotism, the the hypnotism of sound. Louder and clearer the music sounded, in eerie overtones, quavering sobbing minors, fierce reverberating bass. Sharp shards of sound pierced their ears, deep throbbing underrhythm shook them as a cat shakes a mouse. these, he decided, that their unknown serenader lay concealed. Suddenly the elfin melody changed. Fierce, harsh, it rose, until Ranson felt as though a file were rasping his nerves. He knew that he should dash down, seize the invisible musician below ... but logic, facts and duty, all were fading from his mind. The music was a spur, goading him brain, a strange unreasoning bloodlust grew with the savage beat of the wild music. Berserk rage sounded in each shivering note and Ranson felt to kill ... kill! Blindly he whirled, groping for his gun, as the music rose in a frenzied death-wail. distorted his features, insane murder lurked in his eyes. The music was his master, and it was driving him to frenzy. "Kill!" the weird rhythm Whether it was the deadly melody outside, or the instinct of bared in animalistic grins, breath coming in choked gasps, whirling in a mad dance of death as the macabre music distilled deadly poison within their brains. At that moment the lethal rhythm outside changed abruptly. From the fierce maddening beat of a few minutes before, the chords took on a yearning seductive tone. A call, it seemed, irresistible, soft, with a thousand promises. This was the song the sirens sang to Ulysses, the call of the Pied Piper, the chant of the houris in paradise. It conjured up pictures in Ranson's mind ... pictures of fairyland, of exquisitely beautiful scenes, of women lovely beyond imagination. All of man's hopes, man's dreams, were in that music, and it drew Ranson as toward the source of the music, like a man drugged. As he approached the window the melody grew louder. The hypnotism of sound, he knew, but he didn't care. It was enthralling, irresistible. if it hadn't been self-defense, I probably would have fought with him. That music was madness, I tell you! Madness! Nobody's responsible when under its influence! I...." alleged music. I might believe you, Ranson, but how many other people would? Even members of Terrestial Intelligence aren't sacro sanct. I'll have to hold you for trial." "While the real killer, the person playing that music, gets away? Look! loose on Mars, the devil's melody! And it's got to be stopped before it turns this planet upside down!" in hand. "Let this mad music go unchecked and it's death to all terrestials on Mars! And I'm going to stop it! So long, captain! You the unknown musician had stood, eyes on the gauges. Molecules of it was a safe bet that no one other than the strange musician had tiny bits of matter left behind by the unknown. The theory behind it was quite simple. The T.I. scientists had reasoned that the sense of smell is merely the effect of suspended molecules in the air acting upon sensitive nerve filaments, and they knew that any normal human can follow a trail of some strong odor such as perfumes, or gasoline, while animals, possessing more sensitive perceptions, can follow less distinct trails. To duplicate this mechanically had proven more difficult than an electric eye or artificial hearing device, but in the end they had triumphed. Their efforts had resulted in the machine planet. The tales told about him were fabulous and this was the man behind the unholy music! the T.I. man's lips. Faintly, in the distance, came the strains of soft eerie music! "Good God!" Ranson's eyes darted about the laboratory. "That ... that's the same as Haller and I...." "Exactly, Mr. Ranson." Elath Taen smiled thinly. "Listen!" The music was a caress, soft as a woman's skin. Slow, drowsy, like the hum of bees on a hot summer's afternoon. Soothing, soporific, in dreamy, crooning chords. A lullaby, that seemed to hang lead weights upon the eyelids. Audible hypnotism, as potent as some drug. Clearer with each second, the melody grew, coming nearer and nearer the the influence of the weird dream-music. Ranson knew he should act, an intolerable effort. His skin felt as though it were being rubbed with velvet, a strange purring sensation filled his brain. He tried to think, to move, but his will seemed in a padded vise. The music was the music, tried to raise his gun, but the weapon slipped from his fingers, he fell to his knees. Sleep ... that was all that mattered ... sleep. The music was like chloroform, its notes stroked his brain. enigmatic girl, watched her hands dance over the keys to produce the

<question>:
What was the author's purpose in describing the feeling the hypnotizing music evoked in such detail every time that it played?

<options>:
A To convey the dangerous intent of the music.
B To convey how powerful the music is.
C To help the readers hear the music in their head.
D To convey that the music is too complex to have been created by terrestrials.

<answer>:

B