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 it was happening to him, all right, he could take that ... but what if he was happening to it? Putting people painlessly to sleep is really a depressing job. It keeps me awake at night thinking of all those bodies I have sent to the vaults, and it interferes to a marked extent with my digestion. I the one to pep me up, the capsule to strengthen my qualities as a was no longer bored by a reality in which he was matching wits with longer hopeless in his quest to gain another reality because he knew frighten me any more. I've put to sleep too many megalomaniacs, dictators, and civil servants. "Warden Walker, I've been following your career with considerable wanted to believe them. The stories gave them what they were after—without me having to break the law and put them to sleep for crimes they hadn't committed. They would find out some day that I had lied to them, but maybe by that sleepy-bye vaults? He's still sitting in there on your furniture as smug as you please." "It's not that. I just don't think he deserves any special privileges. them or turn them free we have to imprison them." I waited for Coleman's reaction. He merely nodded. "Of course, it's barbaric to think of a prison as a place of punishment," I continued. "A prison is a place to keep a criminal away from society for a specific time so he can't harm that society for that time. Punishment, rehabilitation, all of it is secondary to that. The purpose of confinement is confinement." living through a—uh—movie with full sensory participation for year "I should think so," Coleman said emphatically. "Warden, don't you of riots, solitary confinement, television, and jailbreaks may have made time easier to serve? Do these men ever think they are actually of yellow light. "I don't approve of your decision, Warden. Not at unless—" Coleman lifted a dark eyebrow above a black iris. "Unless?" I cleared my throat. "Unless they go mad and really believe the dream "How do prisoners like that adjust to reality?" think they are having some kind of delusion. Many of them become schizoid and pretend to go along with reality while secretly 'knowing' it to be a lie." "Yes, sir," I replied. "By letting the prisoner project his own life "You don't want life as a Sleeper, do you?" I pursued. "You did want life here was only a Dream such as I fed to my own prisoners. It was Hadn't I thought about it ever since I had been appointed warden and prison vault for so many years for such and such a crime. presented always helped me to relax. a prisoner what the modern penal system was all about by giving him a be released from my Dream, he had said smugly. pad, "I can't put you back into a Dream. You served your full time for your crime. The maximum." "But I haven't adjusted to society!" "But Warden, sir, my psychiatrist said that I was unable to cope with reality. Come on now, Warden, you don't want a guy who can't cope with Lincoln in his Dream, I saw. He had lived the life right up to the night when he was taking in Horbit couldn't accept history that he had no more life to live. He only knew that if in his delirium he could gain Dreamland once more, he Horbit laughed. "Your files aren't infallible, Warden." throat, "what are you going to do with it?" "I'm going to make you go down to the vaults and put me back to sleep, Warden." I nodded. "I suppose you can do that. But what's to prevent me from "What's this?" I asked unnecessarily. I could read it. "A confession that you accepted a bribe to put me back to sleep," Horbit said, his tic beating out a feverish tempo. "As soon as you've Nothing like this had ever happened in my years as warden. pass it? My life was nerve-racking and mind-wrecking, but I liked the challenge—it was the only life I knew or could believe in. all the others before him who had served long as warden of Dreamland. A few had quit while they were still ahead and spent the rest of their lives recuperating. Our society didn't produce individuals tough enough to stand the strain of putting their fellow human beings to sleep for long. "I couldn't have done it, Warden," Horbit mumbled drowsily. "I couldn't Wasn't it perhaps a matter of knowing that all of it wasn't real and disarming a dedicated maniac. With only an hour to spare for gym a day, sleep sentence would be extended. Or was it that, in some sane part of my mind, I wanted release from unreality badly enough to take any risk I tried to coerce you with a gun. That's a crime, Warden—you know that's a crime! I have to be put to sleep!" Keller flicked his mustache with a thick thumbnail. "How about that? You won't let a guy back into the sleepy-bye pads, so he pulls a gun on you to make you, and that makes him eligible. He couldn't lose, Warden. No, sir, he had it made." swinging the blackjack the Committee had taken away from him a decade interview. They came. There were the hysterical relatives, the wives and mothers and brothers who demanded that their kin be Awakened because they were special cases, not really guilty, or needed at home, or possessed of such awesome talents and qualities as to be exempt from the laws of or if some important project was falling apart without his help, but most of the time I just sat with my eyes propped open, letting a sea of vindictive screeching and beseeching wailings wash around me. The relatives and legal talent were spaced with hungry-eyed mystics The onetime inmate who wanted back in after a reprieve was fairly rare. "Warden," Paulson said, "I've decided to give myself up. I murdered a violent man. He had served his time and been released. Conceivably he suddenly get enough guilt feelings to cause you to give yourself up?" Paulson tried his insufficient best to smile evilly. "It wasn't conscience, Warden. I never lie awake a minute whenever I kill anybody. It's just—well, Dreaming isn't so bad. Last time I was Allen kind of life I lead." "Paulson, you know I could have you watched night and day if I thought you really were a murderer. But I can't send you back to the sleep hearing peace, safety, prosperity and brotherly love all the time. I "Naw, he ain't violent, Warden. He just thinks he's somebody important." My pattern of living—call it my office routine—had been sentences to be fixed by the warden. My predecessors had given him I couldn't follow his reasoning. Just how making me think my life was only a Dream such as I imposed on my own prisoners could help him, I "Warden Walker," Coleman intoned in his magnificent voice, "I'm life extreme, Warden." in the real world, but I had thought somehow he wanted to escape to a Dream world. Yet he didn't want to be in for life, the way Paulson and There seemed to be no point or profit in what he had told me that morning, nothing in it for him. Coleman smiled benignly. "Certainly, Warden." Horbit was sitting in his detention quarters idly flicking through "Do you think you can pull the wool over my eyes, you scamp? Mine eyes have seen the glory." the gloom of the room. No wonder he found reality so boring and been able to do something about adjusting his metabolism. "Paulson," I said gently, "I want to speak with you." He bolted upright in his chair. "You're going to put me back to sleep." "I came to talk to you about that," I admitted. I pulled up a seat and adjusted the lighting so only his face and mine

<question>:
What did the warden enjoy about his life?

<options>:
A Taking his pills
B Being challenged
C Being responsible to his supervisors
D Putting people to sleep

<answer>:

B