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

<passage>:
He wished Trader Tom would return and extract some higher price from him for the Modifier, which was clearly missing from the kit. Or to get even more for simply repossessing the kit. But Trader Tom would not be back. He came this way only once. Manet thumbed through the manual in mechanical frustration. As he did Every lonely man tries to make friends. Manet just didn't know when to stop! William Manet was alone. In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It would give him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlate loneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take him to start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to begin teaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminable lectures to a bored and captive audience of one. ill-matched parts left in the box took a new shape in his mind and under his fingers.... dirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal and think more like a god than any man for generations. But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearing "Move!" Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was already talking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he had bore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that his arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity. No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manet could only be this lonely on Mars. the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "No?" Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human. Manet felt nothing more at this information than an esthetic pleasure at the symmetry of the situation. and one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The whole gimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one was needed here—no human being, at least. The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn't "It completes the final course in socialization," Victor continued. "I yourself know some of the things, it could be used against you. It is my function to use everything I possibly can against you." "When do you start?" "I've finished. I've done my worst. I have destroyed the Modifier." "What's so bad about that?" Manet asked with some interest. "You'll have Veronica and Ronald and me forever now. We'll never service for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodations for couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren't providing fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits between are through? You have fulfilled your function?" So Manet put on the pressure suit he had been given because he would never need it, and marched out to meet the visiting spaceship. He wasn't quite clear how he came from walking effortlessly across like me. The one thing a man can't accept is a passive state, a state of uselessness. Not if he can possibly avoid it. Something has to be happening to him. He has to be happening to something. You didn't kill me because then you would have nothing left to do. You'll never kill me." hang there for examination. "Pardon me, but could you tell me just what place this is?" The host shrugged. It was the only word for it. "Whatever place you choose it to be, so long as you're with Trader Tom. 'Service,' that's any new friends. You'll have me to constantly remind you of your "Trader Tom? Service?" uselessness, your constant unrelenting sterility of purpose. How's that for boredom, for passiveness?" exactly. Trader Tom Service—Serving my motto. It is a way of life with me." the Wants of the Spaceman Between the Stars. Of course, 'stars' is the wants of spacemen," he exploded. "Ah," Trader Tom said, cautionary. He moved nearer the fire and warmed "But remember only that businessmen are reactionary. It's well-known. Ask anyone on the street. Businessmen are reactionary even beyond the Trader Tom Credit Card." "That's it precisely!" Trader Tom said with enthusiasm. "You estate ." "But I may leave no estate!" Trader Tom demonstrated his peculiar shrug. "All businesses operate on Irritably, "How do I know what I want until I know what you have?" "I know? All right, I know. You don't have it for sale." am a trader—Trader Tom. I trade with many parties. There are, for "Of course," Trader Tom replied, "I suspected. It is not so unusual, When he looked up from the card, Manet saw the box. Trader Tom was "It is commercialized," Trader Tom admitted with no little chagrin. charges." "You never know the cost. Only your executor knows that. It's the Trader Tom plan." "Well, is it guaranteed?" "There are no guarantees," Trader Tom admitted. "But I've never had any complaints yet." "You won't be," Trader Tom said. "I won't pass this way again." Manet didn't open the box. He let it fade quietly in the filtered but Finally, Manet woke up one morning. He lay in the sheets of his bunk, Companion .... Then . Manet tried to flip past this outside. Not a thing. There was always something missing from kits. The Red King followed.... Uselessly. ad nauseum . What a narrow band of interests! With the whole universe to explore in thought and concept, why did he have to be trapped with such an unoriginal human being? Manet's eyes orbitted towards the checkerboard. their checker games always ended in a tie? Then he sighed, rolled over to his feet and started trudging toward Communication. He padded down the rib-ridged matted corridor, taking his usual small pleasure in the kaleidoscopic effect of the spiraling reflections on the walls of the tubeway. preferred an American disk-jockey himself, one who appreciated New York swing. "We imagine that you are most interested in how long you shall be required to stay at your present stations," said the Voice of God's paternal uncle. "As you on Mars may know, there has been much discussion as to how long it will require to complete the present schedule—" there was of course no "K" sound in the word—"for may recall that three years ago the official estimate was changed to thirty-one years. The recent estimate by certain reactionary sources of two hundred and seventy-four years is not an official government home, or not particularly bad if you are counting on drawing your handsome salary for the time spent on Mars. We have every reason to believe our original estimate was substantially correct. The total time is, within limits of error, a flat 18 years." He sat there thinking about eighteen years. He did not switch to video for some freshly taped westerns. hodgepodge, and thought: eighteen years. Perhaps I should have begun here, he told himself. But I really don't have as much interest in that sort of thing as the earthier types. Simple companionship was all I wanted. And, he thought on, even an Manet folded his arms stoically and added: "Please don't talk." She made her return. "Not now," he instructed her. "Whenever you say." He stood up and began pacing off the dimensions of the compartment. There was no doubt about it: he had been missing his regular exercise. "Now?" she asked. "I'll tell you." Manet threw back the bolt and wheeled back the hatch. "Do you know what I'm going to do with you?" Manet demanded. "I'm going to lock you up in here, and leave you for a day, a month, a year, forever! Now what do you think about that?" "If you think it's the right Manet slammed the hatch in disgust. back after you've been behind a locked door with my best friend?" He went down the corridor, giggling. He giggled and thought: This will never do.

<question>:
Why does the trader not get any requests for returns?

<options>:
A He charges a lot for his wares
B His merchandise is so pleasing
C People don't know how much the items cost
D He only visits each place one time

<answer>:

D