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

<passage>:
"If I'm a spy," he said impatiently, "then I'm supposed to look for THE SPY IN THE ELEVATOR indications of an attack by you people on my Project." I shrugged. "If that's your job," I said, "then that's your job." job, you blatant idiot!" he shouted. "I'm not a spy! If I He was dangerously insane. He threatened a spy, then that would be my job!" to destroy everything that was noble and were Project?" I stared at him. "That's impossible!" I cried. "We aren't planning to attack anybody! We just want to be left in peace!" waited for it. They simply knew that it had been captured by some other think I'm a spy. That blundering Army of yours thinks I'm a spy. That fathead who turned me in thinks I'm a spy. But I'm a spy, and I'm going to tell you what I am." I waited, looking as attentive as possible. "I come," he said, "from a Project about eighty miles north of here. I came here by foot, without any sort of radiation shield at all to And that was like saying there's no need any longer for stomachs, but I didn't say so. I didn't say anything at all. "I'm a trained atomic engineer," he went on. "In my project, I worked on the reactor. Theoretically, I believed that there was a chance the radiation Outside was lessening by now, though we had no idea exactly how much radiation had been released by the Atom War. But I wanted to test the theory, and the Commission wouldn't let me. They claimed public safety, but I knew better. If the Outside were safe and the she leaned even closer to the screen—"there's a spy in the elevator." It was my turn to be stunned. I just gaped at her. "A—a what?" "A spy. He was discovered on the hundred forty-seventh floor, and "He runs it up and down the shaft," she explained, "trying to crush anybody who goes after him." For a minute or two, all I could do was sit and absorb what I'd been told. A spy in the elevator! A spy who had managed to work his way all What in the world was the matter with the Army? If things were getting that lax, the Project was doomed, force-screen or no. Who knew how many more spies there were in the Project, still unsuspected? Until that moment, the state of siege in which we all lived had had no reality for me. The Project, after all, was self-sufficient and threat of other projects had never been more for me—or for most other people either, I suspected—than occasional ore-sleds that didn't return, occasional spies shot down as they tried to sneak into the building, occasional spies of our own leaving the Project in tiny radiation-proof cars, hoping to get safely within another project and bring back news of any immediate threats and dangers that project might be planning for us. Most spies didn't return most ore-sleds did. And within the Project life was full, the knowledge of external dangers merely lurking at the backs of our minds. After all, those external dangers had been no more than potential for decades, since what Dr. Kilbillie called the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War. Dr. Kilbillie—Intermediate Project History, when I was fifteen years old—had private names for every major war of the twentieth century. World Wars One, Two, and Three. The rise of the Projects, according to Dr. Kilbillie, was the result of many many factors, but two of the most important were the population explosion and the Treaty of Oslo. The population explosion, of course, meant that no Projects were bombed. Of course, they made up for this as best they could by using tactical treaties which were broken during the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War, by the time it was finished nobody was quite sure any more who was on whose side. That project over there on the horizon might be an ally. And then again it might not. Since they weren't sure either, it was risky to expose yourself in order to ask. was left to the Army. The rest of us simply lived our lives and let it go at that. But now there was a spy in the elevator. When I thought of how deeply he had penetrated our defenses, and of how would agree with me that a spy in the elevator was good and sufficient didn't we? Usually, I mean, when they didn't contain spies. So what was Well, according to Dr. Kilbillie (a walking library of unnecessary information), the Project had been built when there still had been such things as municipal governments (something to do with cities, which were more or less grouped Projects), and the local municipal government shut on the other side. The Army might have caught the spy already. the spy came out, waving a gun. He couldn't have been anyone else but the spy. The gun, in the first place. The fact that he looked harried and upset and terribly nervous, in the second place. And, of course, the fact that he came from the high-cheekboned face featuring deepset eyes and a thin-lipped mouth. He wore gray slacks and shirt, with brown slippers on his feet. He looked exactly like a spy ... which is to say that he didn't spy, he looked overpoweringly ordinary. More than anything else, he But if I had any visions of imminent rescue, the spy dashed them. He I knew my only slim chance of safety lay in answering his questions promptly, cooperating with him until and unless I saw a chance to either escape or capture him. "You'll never get away," I told him. "The whole Project is alerted." "You let me worry about that," he said. He licked his lips. "You got And now I had yet another grudge against this blasted spy. Which to be able to maintain the fiction should he question me further about it. "No. Why should we?" "To find out how far the radiation level outside has dropped." "For what? Who cares about that?" He frowned bitterly. "The same answer," he muttered, more to himself "Man was progressing. For all his stupidities and excesses, he was growing up. His dreams were getting bigger and grander and better all the time. He was planning to tackle space ! The moon first, and then waiting to be plucked like an apple from a tank. And Man was reaching out for it." He glared as though daring me to doubt it. I decided that this man was doubly dangerous. Not only was he a spy, to watchful spy. room and sat down in my favorite chair. He studied me narrowly, and suddenly said, "What did they tell you I was? A spy?" "Of course," I said. He grinned bitterly, with one side of his mouth. "Of course. The damn fools! Spy! What do you suppose I'm going to spy on?" He asked the question so violently and urgently that I knew I had to answer quickly and well, or the maniac would return. "I—I wouldn't know, exactly," I stammered. "Military equipment, I suppose." "Military equipment? What adequate defense equipment. I chose to believe the Army over an enemy spy. "Your people send out spies, too, don't they?" he demanded. "And what are they supposed to spy on?" "Well—" It was such a pointless question, it seemed silly to even answer it. "They're supposed to look for indications of an attack by one of the other projects." "And do they find any indications, ever?" "I'm sure I don't know," I told him frostily. "That would be classified information." "You bet it would," he said, with malicious glee. "All right, if that's what a spy, then it follows that I'm doing the same thing, right?" "I don't follow you," I admitted.

<question>:
Why did the spy enter the Project?

<options>:
A He wanted to test human travel safety Outside
B He was mounting a nuclear attack
C He suspected they were going to attack his own Project
D He wanted to gain information about the technologies in the Project

<answer>:

A