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

<passage>:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that It surely was all right for me to let myself do it now. I couldn't have set was enjoying a quiz by itself and creased in my pocket was the newspaper account of the failure of a monumental human adventure in the ex-Army, Lions Club member, beefy, respectable, well-intentioned, not a complete fool. The guy on the corner reading a newspaper by the bus stop. "Listen to me! These people, they're conspiring against me, trying to drive me insane! Two men, a girl—" "For my money, Marilyn Monroe is the insubstantiality he was. There was a stick figure of a man left before me, an economical skeleton supporting the shell of a human being and two-thirds of a two-trouser suit. Hide. Modern Man with being—obviously, on second thought, only the discarded skin of one of And a moldering pile of letters and papers. The old man sat behind a fortress of magazines and books, treacherously And which he had reading the funnies in a newspaper. His bald head swiveled on the answered. "Came back for more of the stuff, did you?" hunched shoulders of his sweater which was azuring toward white. He parents, children, grandparents, the caption: Vodka is a Part of the American Tradition. All of it lying here to rot. My work. "I know what a craving can be. I shouldn't smoke, but I do. I've tried one in each hand. It like that with you?" "Not that bad. To me it's just—" hand. Something happened. to stop but I lie there thinking about cigarettes half the night. Long "Don't tell me reading isn't a craving with some of you fellows. I've part, but a part. "That's not what I want to see. I want—" of my piloting. "What have you done to my mind?" "We've been trying to get it to grow back up," Sergeant said reasonably. "Think of this. Fountain of Youth. Immortality. Rejuvenation. This is it. Never mind how it works. Most minds can't ritual, "a dime for ones with incomplete covers, three for a quarter, damned thing all over again. We use synapse-shift to switch your upper conscious memories to your id and super-ego, leaving room for new memories. You remember only those things out of the past you stand being young and knowing they will have to go through the same to, to retain your identity." "Identity," I repeated. "I have no identity. My identity is a dream. I have two identities—one of them years beyond the other." Sergeant tilted his head and his eyes at me and slapped me across the have , all of them. Rejuvenation Service couldn't help it if you were too old for a You shouldn't have waited until you were so old, so very old. We used the very oldest sets and mock-ups we had for "This one, this one," he said. "This must be a good one. I bet she to keep wandering onto pieces. Pieces." "I'll take it." sets, even. gets shoved right into that propeller there. I bet she gets chopped to My sickness was terrible. It is as bad to be nostalgic for things you have never known as for an orphan who has never had a home to be homesick. Living in the past, that was always me. I never watched anything on TV made later than 1935. I was in love with Garbo, Ginger Rogers, Dolores War. This was the biggest part of it all, I think. You identify with the hero of any story if it's well enough written. synchronization. Look at that chivalrous wave. You can almost see the But not enough. paper and printer's ink. set. It was a comforting anti-anachronism here. together. Then I saw that the top part of the set was a mirror reflecting an image from the roof of the cabinet where the actual turns the blade back on him. It goes through his neck, all the way through. The blonde is running toward Farnum as he polishes off the rest of the gang and dismounts, her blouse shredded, revealing one breast—is Flicker Flashbacks between chapters of I had seen these pictures before the war. Defense—War—Savings—Security—Liberty—Freedom—I had bought stamps at school. I never did get enough to trade in for a bond, but Mama had it. Something was wrong. Two men were in the front seat. The driver showed How could I tell him that? "I didn't back seat. "Look here, Sarge. They look pretty dirty." Sarge took up the grinned, toothless. I didn't fight back, not against the two of them. I knew that much. I voice said above me. I looked up a little bit and saw an ugly, battered hand thumbing across a stack of half a dozen magazines like a giant deck of cards. "Why don't you take up detective stories?" he asked me. The solution was obvious. War One. I was in my mid-twenties on television were mere hallucinations. Different runs. That was it. The thing had been around half a dozen The thing I must remember, I told myself, was that my recollections were false and unreliable. It would do me no good to keep following these false memories in a closed curve. They were keeping me from re-entering the past where I belonged, punishing me to make me stay in my trap of the present. That was the worst part of it. False memories, feelings of persecution, that was one thing. Believing that you are actively caught up in a mixture of the past with the present, a Daliesque viscosity of reality, was something else. I needed help. Or if there was no help for me, it was my duty to have myself placed one at random, for no particular reason. practice for him while he is on vacation." I nodded. What I was thinking could only be another symptom of my The old man snickered. "I know what you want. Indeed I do. This way." me about it? Some people have preconceived ideas that I don't want to fight with at the beginning. Or, if you prefer, you can sit there in front of my desk and tell me all about it. Remember, I'm a "I feel," I said, "that I am caught up in some kind of time travel." "Some. I read a lot. All kinds of books. Tolstoi, Twain, Hemingway, upon stacks of air-war pulp magazines. them instead of live them. Catharsis. Sublimate, Mr. I seemed to be losing control of the conversation. "But this time travel...." "Mr. Turner, do you really believe in 'time travel'?" "Then how can there be any such thing? It can't be real." "I know that! I want to be cured of imagining it." "The first step is to utterly renounce the idea. Stop thinking about the past. Think of the future." "How did you know I keep slipping back into the past?" I asked. time travel...." "But not to the past or to the future," I said. actually have more control over themselves than you realize. If you will I didn't tell you a thing about the Back Number Store. I'm starting to think I'm not crazy at all. You—you're trying to do something to me. You're all in it together." Sergeant shook his head sadly. I realized how it all sounded. Those hands of his. There was something about them that wasn't so. They might have been the hands of a corpse, or a doll.... " can't win them all, and I had been in a lot of scraps when I had been younger. (Hadn't I?) I stepped in while he was trying to decide whether to use the hypo on I had a good reason. Death. A sleep, a reawakening, a lie. It's nothing like that. It's nothing. The end of everything you ever were or ever could be.

<question>:
Why does the protagonist have more than one set of memories?

<options>:
A He has traveled back and forth through time
B His memories are being moved in his brain to make room for new ones
C He is not taking his medication for his mental illness
D He has a portion of another persons brain

<answer>:

B