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

<passage>:
scurrying, moving, changing—each half recognizable as it passed, but leaving only a vague impression behind. Memories were shattered into their component data bits in that maelstrom of not-quite-darkness, and scattered throughout infinity and eternity. Then the pseudo-dark stopped its violent motion and became still, no longer scattering the fleeing memories, but merely blanketing them. And between the data-bits began pulling them back together again as the not-blackness faded. The associative powers of the mind began putting vast jigsaw puzzle in five dimensions, little clots and patches formed as the bits were snuggled into place here and there. The process was far from complete when Broom regained consciousness. Broom sat up abruptly and looked around him. The room was totally He rubbed his head and looked around more carefully. It was not just that the room itself was unfamiliar as a whole the effect was greater than that. It was not the first time in his life he had regained consciousness in unfamiliar surroundings, but always before he had been aware that only the pattern was different, not the details. He sat there on the floor and took stock of himself and his surroundings. 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, and a name. Contarini. He seemed to remember a startled look on the Italian's face, but he could neither remember the reason for it nor when it had been. But it would come back he was sure of that. wall to wall, but no carpet had ever felt like this. He lifted himself gingerly to his feet. He wasn't hurt, at least. He 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 The memories were coming back. This time, he didn't try to probe for them he just let them flow. unrecognizable symbols on them. This would certainly be something to tell in London—when and if he ever got back. He shook his head. The more he tried to remember what his fellow prisoner had told him, the more elusive it became. plain that going into the past was impossible. Then could he, Broom, get back to his own time, or was he destined to stay in this—place? a man's memories. Well, wasn't that obvious anyway? Even normal movement through time, at the rate of a day per day, made some memories fade. And some were lost entirely, while others remained clear and bright. What would a sudden jump of centuries do? His memory was improving, though. If he just let it alone, most of it would come back, and he could orient himself. Meanwhile, he might as well explore his surroundings a little more. He resolved to keep his hands off anything that wasn't readily identifiable. Broom decided he might as well get a good look at whatever was outside impressions intelligently to his brain. What they were recording was so unfamiliar that his brain could not decode the messages they sent. Broom backed away from the window and let the curtain close. He'd had unfamiliar, outlandish clothing, but Broom had seen odder clothing in chair. Broom's footsteps sounded loud in the room, the echoes rebounding might be someone else here besides himself. He looked around, wishing Contarini had said that it would be ... how had he said it? "Like sleeping for hundreds of years and waking up in a strange world." Well, it was that, all right. Did anyone know he was here? He had the uneasy feeling that hidden, His wish for a weapon came back, stronger than before. The very fact 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 the unreadable characters on it. He wished fervently that he could decipher them they might tell him where he was. this mysterious place. They were all locked. He knew that he could break into any of them, but he had a feeling that he would find no exit through any of them. They He had the terrible feeling that he had been drawn across time to this place for a purpose, and yet he could think of no rational reason for believing so. He stopped as another memory came back. He remembered being in the stone-walled dungeon, with its smelly straw beds, lit only by the faint shaft of sunlight that came from the barred window high overhead. Broom outranked the little Italian, but prison can make brothers of all Broom held back a grin. "Then why, my Venetian friend, have you not left "Afraid?" Broom raised an eyebrow. He had seen Contarini on the "I hope, my dear Contarini," Broom said dryly, "that you are not under Broom had thought that over for a moment, then grinned. "All right, my The memory faded from Broom's mind. Had he really moved through some segment of Eternity to reach this ... this place? Had he— He felt a chill run through him. What was he doing here? How could he Instinctively, he turned and ran back toward the room he had left. If he got back to the place where he had appeared in this world, perhaps—somehow—some force would return him to where he belonged. the door shut itself behind him. He ran on, through the large room with its many tables, into the brightly lighted room beyond. He stopped. What could he do now? He tried to remember the things that the Italian had told him to do, and he could not for the life of him remember them. His memory still had gaps in it—gaps he did not know were there because he had not yet probed for them. He closed his eyes in concentration, trying to bring back a memory that would not come. He did not hear the intruder until the man's voice echoed in the room. Broom's eyes opened, and instantly every muscle and nerve in his the tenseness in his voice betrayed his fear. Broom relaxed. He had Broom laughed. "You have nothing to fear from me, little man. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Richard Broom, known as—" He stopped, and his eyes widened. Total memory flooded over him as he realized fully who he was and where he belonged. And the fear hit him again in a raging flood, sweeping over his mind and face, looking at him through an aperture in the stone wall. The surroundings were so familiar, that the bits of memory which had been Richard Broom sat up on his palette of straw. The scene in the strange building already seemed dreamlike, but the fear was still there. "I couldn't remember," he said softly. "I couldn't remember who I was nor why I had gone to that ... that place. And when I remembered, I came back." Contarini nodded sadly. "It is as I have heard. The memory ties one too strongly to the past—to one's own time. One must return as soon as the mind had adjusted. I am sorry, my friend I had hoped we could escape. But now it appears that we must wait until our ransoms are paid. And I much fear that mine will never be paid." "Nor mine," said the big man dully. "My faithful Blondin found me, but locked the door when I left. What? Well, the only thing that's missing as far as I can tell is a ceramic ash tray from one of the desks he was holding that in his hand when I saw him. What? Oh. Where did he go?" Mr. little dizzy—I was pretty shocked, you know. To be honest, I didn't see where he went. I must have fainted. He cradled the phone, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbed at his damp forehead. He was a very frightened little man, but he knew he'd get over it by morning. THE END

<question>:
Why doesn’t Broom know where he is or who he is?

<options>:
A He has gone mad and is hallucinating.
B He was kidnapped and tortured.
C He time traveled to the future, which caused amnesia.
D He had his memory wiped by the government.

<answer>:

C