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

<passage>:
THE SPY IN THE ELEVATOR "If I'm a spy," he said impatiently, "then I'm supposed to look for job, you blatant idiot!" he shouted. "I'm not a spy! If I the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] a spy, He was dangerously insane. He threatened to destroy everything that was noble and It was just one of those days. Everybody gets them. Days when you're lucky in you make it to nightfall with no bones broken. But of all times for it to happen! For literally months I'd been Project and had blown itself up. Well, of course, after working as an ore-sled dispatcher for three killed. She couldn't visualize anything less than that keeping me from arriving at the designated moment. When I told her what actually had happened—I'd broken a shoe lace—she refused to speak to me for four 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 and I was hungry—and while hurriedly jury-rigging drapery across that gaspingly transparent window—one hundred and fifty-three stories straight down to slag—I kept going over and over my prepared proposal speeches, trying to select the most effective one. that traveled between the hundred thirty-third floor and the hundred sixty-seventh floor, where it was possible to make connections for either the next local or for the express. So it couldn't be more than o'clock. I'm late! " I shook my fist at the screen. "Do you realize what you've 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 jammed it between floors. But the Army is doing everything it can think afraid they'll have to starve him out." "Oh, no!" told. A spy in the elevator! A spy who had managed to work his way all the way up to the hundred forty-seventh floor before being unmasked! 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 completely enclosed. No one ever left, no one ever entered. Under our roof, we were a nation, two hundred stories high. The ever-present 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 be planning for us. Most spies didn't return 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. There was the Ignoble Nobleman's War, the Racial Non-Racial War, and the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War, known to the textbooks of course as 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 there was continuously more and more people but never any vertical. Before 1900, the vast majority of human beings lived in tiny huts of from one to five stories. By 2000, everybody lived in Projects. From the very beginning, small attempts were made to make these Projects more than dwelling places. By mid-century, Projects (also called apartments and co-ops) already included restaurants, shopping centers, baby-sitting services, dry cleaners and a host of other adjuncts. By the end of the century, the Projects were completely separate floors set aside for schools and churches and factories, robot ore-sleds capable of seeking out raw materials unavailable within the Projects themselves and so on. And all because of, among other things, the population explosion. And the Treaty of Oslo. meant that no Projects were bombed. Of course, they made up for this as best they could by using tactical atomic weapons all over the place. After the war almost the whole world was quite dangerously radioactive. Except for the Projects. Or which had been invented on the very eve of battle, and which deflected radioactive particles. However, what with all of the other treaties which were broken during the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War, by the time it was finished nobody And so life went on, with little to remind us of the dangers lurking Outside. The basic policy of Eternal Vigilance and Instant Preparedness But now there was a spy in the elevator. When I thought of how deeply he had penetrated our defenses, and of how were our safeguards only so long as all potential enemies were on the elevator, praying that the spy had been captured by now and that Linda would agree with me that a spy in the elevator was good and sufficient except adventurous young boys playing cops and robbers, running up and down from landing to landing. I myself hadn't set foot on a flight of had had on its books a fire ordinance, anachronistic even then, which required a complete set of stairs in every building constructed in the city. Ergo, the Project had stairs, thirty-two hundred of them. And now, after all these years, the stairs might prove useful after flight, that meant two hundred and eight steps. Could I descend two hundred and eight steps for my true love? I could. steps and a floor. Eight steps and a landing, eight steps and a floor. On the landing between one fifty and one forty-nine, there was a guarded by at least a platoon of Army men. Half a dozen possible 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 exactly like a spy ... which is to say that he But if I had any visions of imminent rescue, the spy dashed them. He "One fifty-three," I said. This was a desperate and dangerous man. 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 "You'll never get away," I told him. "The whole Project is alerted." boiling water." "I only have my day's allotment," I protested. "Just enough for two cups, lunch and dinner." And now I had yet another grudge against this blasted spy. Which "When they come back," he said. "How much radiation do they pick up? Don't you people ever test them?" "For what? Who cares about that?" He frowned bitterly. "The same answer," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "The same answer every time. You people have crawled into course not!" "The same thing," he grumbled, "over and over again. Always the same even a desirable ! The moon first, and then the planets, and finally the stars. The whole universe was out there, I decided that this man was doubly dangerous. Not only was he a spy, to watchful spy. suddenly said, "What did they tell you I was? A spy?" fools! Spy! What do you suppose I'm going to spy on?" "The defenses," he interrupted me, "are non-existent. If you mean the other defenses are there? None." spy. "Your people send out spies, too, don't they?" he demanded. "Well, of course." "And what are supposed to spy on?" spies are doing, and if a spy, then it follows that

<question>:
How many buildings has the spy breached the security of?

<options>:
A Two
B None
C One
D Countless

<answer>:

C