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

<passage>:
Gavir gingerly fitted the round opening in the bottom of the silvery globe over the top of his hairless blue skull. He pulled the globe down until he felt tiny filaments touching his scalp. The tips of the wires were cold. Dreaming Through the Universe tonight brings you the first native Martian to appear on the dreamwaves—Gavir of the Desert Men. With him is his guardian, Dr. Malcomb Rice, the noted anthropologist." of Earthmen. Malcomb told how he had been struck by Gavir's intelligence and missionary-taught ability to speak Earth's language, and had decided to bring Gavir to Earth. being seized by MDC guards for a labor pool, to wind up in the MDC mines? Mars was where Gavir's father had been pinned, bayonets through his hands and feet, to the wall of a shack just the other side of the Barrier, to die slowly, out of Gavir's reach. Father James told Gavir that the head of MDC himself had ordered the killing, because Gavir's father had tried to organize resistance to the Corporation. Mars was where the magic powers of the Earthmen and the helplessness of the Martian tribes would always protect the head of MDC from Gavir's vengeance. Back to that world of hopeless fear and hatred? back to Mars! I want to stay here! But that wasn't what he was supposed to think. Quickly he said, "I will be happy to return to my people." "Well, enough of that!" the moderator said briskly. "How about singing one of your tribal songs for us?" Gavir said, "I will sing the Song of Going to Hunt Everything that Gavir saw and heard and felt in his mind, the dreamees I t was cold, bitter cold, on the plain. The hunter stood at the edge of the camp as the shriveled Martian sun struck the tops of the Shakam hills. The hunter hefted the long, balanced narvoon, the throwing knife, in his hand. He had faith in the knife, and in his skill with Crouching behind crumbling red rocks, racing over flat expanses of orange sand, the hunter sought traces of the seegee, the great slow desert beast whose body provided his tribe with all the essentials of existence. At last he saw tracks. He mounted a dune. Out on the plain before him a great brown seegee lumbered patiently, unaware of its startled sidestep saved him from the neck-breaking snap of the great jaws. The drock's long body was armored with black scales. Curving fangs protruded from its upper jaw. Its hand-like forepaws ended in hooked claws, to grasp and tear its prey. It was larger, stronger, faster than the hunter. The thin Martian air carried weirdly high-pitched cries which proclaimed its craving to sink its fangs into the hunter's body. The drock's huge hind legs coiled back on their triple joints, He began shouting even before Gavir removed his headset. "What kind of a fool are you? Before you started that song, you dreamed things about the Martian Development Corporation that were libelous! I got the whole thing—the Barrier, the guards, the labor pools and mines, the father crucified. It was awful! MDC is one of our biggest sponsors." Malcomb said, "You can't expect an untrained young Martian to control his very thoughts. And may I point out that your tone is hostile?" At this a sudden change came over the producer. The standard Earth shadows of hunched buildings. A half-dozen Earthmen approached him, stopped and stared. Gavir stared back. The Earthmen wore black garments and furs and metal ornaments. The biggest of them wore a black suit, a long black cape, and a broad-brimmed black hat. He carried a coiled whip in one hand. The Earthmen turned to one another. "A Martian." "Let's give pain and death to the Martian! It will be a new experience—one to savor." "Take pain, Martian!" The Earthman with the black hat raised his arm, and the long heavy lash fell on Gavir. He felt a savage sting in the arm he had thrown up to protect his eyes. the face. As the others rushed in, Gavir flailed about him with long arms and heavy fists. He began to enjoy it. It was rare that a Martian had an opportunity to knock Earthmen down. The mood of the Song of Going to Hunt soft plumpness and a receding hairline made him look slightly older than average. He pointed a rigid finger at Malcomb and Gavir. "I want you two to A voice boomed out of the ceiling. "That Martian boy has power. That song was a fist in the jaw. More!" A woman's voice followed: "If you let that boy go back to Mars I'll never dream a Global program again." Gavir trembled with joy. Hoppy Davery pressed another button and a and tight brown breeches. She was bare from the waist up and her artificial color. She kissed Hoppy Davery on the forehead, leaving red blotches on his pink dome. He wiped his forehead and looked at his hand. "Do you have to wear that barbaric face-paint?" Hoppy turned sad eyes young flesh. "See you again, Blue Boy." After Sylvie left, Hoppy Davery said, "That might be a good professional name—Blue Boy. Gavir doesn't mean Song of Creation ." "It's part of a fertility rite," Malcomb explained. The sponsor was pacing back and forth in Hoppy Davery's office when Malcomb and Gavir arrived. Hoppy introduced him proudly. "Mr. Jarvis Spurling, president of the Martian Development Corporation." Gavir's hand leaped at the narvoon under his doublet. Then he stopped himself. He turned the gesture into the proffer of a concentration camp you run on Mars. Coming, Gavir?" Gavir grinned at Spurling. "The contract, I believe, does not cover my private life." "It won't happen again. You're a hero to the Senile Delinquents now. By the way, the big fellow with the broad-brimmed hat, he's one of the not like a Martian woman, but he found the differences exciting and attractive. He went to her, and he forgot entirely that she was over a hundred years old. Gavir toured the world with Sylvie, mobbed everywhere by worshipful Century-Plussers. Male Century-Plussers by the millions adopted blue doublets and blue kilts in honor of their hero. Blue-dyed hair was now de rigueur among the ladies of Lucifer Grotto. The Hat Rat himself, who often appeared at a respectful distance in crowds around Gavir, now wore a wide-brimmed hat of brightest blue. Complaint . It was an ancient song, a Desert Man's outcry against injustice, enemies, false friends and callous leaders. It was a protest against sufferings that could neither be borne nor prevented. At the climax of the song Gavir pictured a tribal chief who refused to make fair division of the spoils of a hunt with his warriors. Gradually he allowed this image to turn into a picture of Hoppy Davery withholding sonic pistol strapped at his waist. A protesting Malcomb was behind pistol out and pointed it at Gavir. Gavir stood up. His right hand plucked at his doublet. Mars, Bluie, and you're out hunting a drock. And you find one, only this drock has a gun. How about that, Bluie?" Gavir took out the narvoon, grasped the blade, and drew his arm back. contrivance of dark brown wood and black metal tubing cradled in his arm. "This ancient shotgun I dedicate to your blood feud. I shall hunt down your enemy, Gavir!"

<question>:
What was the silver helmet filled with wires that Gaivir put on?

<options>:
A A mechanism to keep him more under control while performing
B A device to transmit his thoughts through dreamvision
C A space helmet to allow him to survive in Earth's gravity
D The traditional headwear for his Martian tribe

<answer>:

B