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 dark." "You're joking." one question: Would you like answering for humanity any better than Ernie Meeker did? The Invisible Being shifted his anchorage a bit in Earth's "Except what?" "Except we can never be sure of that 'reasonable' part." "Of course not! Thank your stars that's I'd be out of a job." "And have to scheme up some other excuse for free-touring the Cosmos with backtracking permitted." and were the best of friends. "Well, how many Gifts would you suggest for the test?" "How about two Little and one Big?" the Coadjutor ventured. "Umm ... statistically adequate but spiritually unsatisfying. Remember, the fate of his race hangs on his reactions to them. I'd be inclined to increase your suggestion by one each and add a Great." "No—at least I question the last. After all, the Great Gifts aren't as important, really, as the Big Gifts. Besides...." What Little Gifts would you suggest?" "That's something I want to talk about. Many of the Little Gifts are "Which as you very well know scores them nothing one way or the other on a Galaxy Center test. We're agreed on the nature and the number of our Gifts—three Little, two Big, and one Great?" Ernie blinked. After a moment, he pointed toward the center of the Ernie Meeker went home and shaved. Five days—and shaves—later, he better. Or worse sometimes, of course." "And sometimes," his office mate said, "you wear out a blade fast by "That's true, all right," Ernie agreed, trying to remember how well he irritated shrug. As he shaved, it occurred to him that a good detective-story murder a lot of muscle into the stroke to get through the tangle, and— urrk ! way. He told himself the blade was duller still. Just a bit. myself that a wornout blade was still sharp enough, when it obviously couldn't be. Or maybe—" he grinned a little wryly—"maybe I'd almost get one more shave out of you and then you'd fall to pieces like heard tinkle faintly down and away the first of the Little Gifts, the That day, Ernie felt a little sick, somehow. After dinner, he decided Ernie sat down suddenly on the toilet seat. The spoon rattled against 2 O into hemi-quasi-stable H and O, furnishing a serviceable fuel-and-oxydizer mix for most motorcycles, automobiles, trucks, motorboats, airplanes, stationary motors, torque-twisters, translators, and rockets (exhaust velocity up to 6000 meters per warmer. "Ernie! Are you going to be much longer?" The knock hadn't been loud and his widowed sister's voice was more lunch." She nodded absently. Sleep refused even to flirt with Ernie, his mind was full of so many Ernie Meeker had discovered, inside the birthday box that was himself, churning in it, vividly clear, along with the first chapters of the new detective story. If he kept on absorbing information that fast, he'd have to be revising all his opinions and beliefs every couple of days at least—maybe every couple of hours. It seemed a dreadful, literally maddening prospect—his mind would It was an abnormal, dangerous, temporary sensitivity, he told himself, generated by the excitement of the crazy discovery he'd made infinity-paneled adventure-comic of his life as he bolts his last rough ration of air. Or like the feeling a psychotic must have that he's on the verge of visualizing the whole universe, having its ultimate Ernie Meeker was not a drinking man, then. A pint had stood a week on individually, or at most in strings of three and four. Which, if it wasn't as it ideally should be in an ambitious man's mind, was at least darn comfortable. He had not rejected the Big Gift of Page-at-a-Glance Reading. Not quite. But he had dislocated for tonight at least the imposed nervous field on which it depended. Further than that, in the way of engine hygiene, Ernie's strictly and was relieved to find it still empty. He wished fervently, not for with some friend who knew more than himself about motors (he hadn't decided anyway who that would be). It would be just too silly to practical jokes, secret product perhaps military, or mad inventor (except himself). At that point, simple faith came to Ernie's rescue: in the same Ernie felt light-headed. He decided there was enough water in the gas "Ernie! Come on in and have breakfast!" Fabius. On the whole, Ernie was glad his sister was in the car when he though he didn't feel exactly right about exposing her to the danger of being blown up without first explaining to her the risk. But the motor started right up and began purring powerfully. Ernie's sister commented on it favorably. he insisted, rather lamely, he feared. His sister looked at him steadily. He settled his head between his shoulders and concentrated on driving. His feeling of excitement was spoiled, but a few minutes of silence brought it back. He thought of Ernie chose a moment when his sister was out of the room to ask if or some usable fuel. "Who's been getting at you?" Uncle Fabius demanded sharply, to Ernie's surprise and embarrassment. "That's one of the oldest swindles. gets dull. You're looking pale, Ernie—don't tell me you've already put With considerable difficulty, Ernie convinced his uncle that he had impassioned ninety-minute defense of big business, small business, prosperity, America, money, know-how, and a number of other institutions that defended pretty easily, so that the situation was wholly normal when Ernie's sister returned. To tell the truth, Ernie wasn't feeling as elated about today's fifty-mile drive as he'd imagined he would. Now he thought he could put then he'd have felt more able to do something able to talk about it and assure himself he wasn't going crazy ... oh, it is rough when you can't share things, really rough not being able to share depressing news corrodes the spirit, but not being able to share exciting news can sometimes be even more corroding. one word about exhaust velocities. From that moment, the fuel-powder became a trial to Ernie rather than a ideas away, but they kept coming back. And yet he did no more bathroom testing. Of course the car still ran. He even fueled it once again with the troubled stomach. Ernie explained on the spur of the moment that he was Meanwhile, besides the problem of the white powder, Ernie was having other unsettling experiences, stemming (though of course he didn't know that) from the other Gifts—and not just the Big Gift of Page-at-a-Glance Reading, though that still returned from time to time to shock his consciousness and send him hurrying for a few quick shots. Like many another car-owning commuter, Ernie found the traffic and parking problems a bit too much for comfort and so used the fast During those brief, swift, crowded trips Ernie, generally looking to his spirit than he realized. But now all that had been suddenly total strangers struck up conversations almost every morning and afternoon. Ernie couldn't figure out the reason and wasn't at all sure he liked it—except for Vivian. She worked in an office too, a fancier one than Ernie's, as he found was a mystery to him. He finally asked her about it in what he hoped was a joking way, though she seemed to know a lot more about joking than he did. "Don't you know?" she countered. "I mean what makes you attractive to "Well, I'll tell you then, Ernie, and I've got to admit it's something always has, something that sounds like poetic over-enthusiasm if you stop to analyze it, a physical impossibility, but that I have to admit maybe they wouldn't flash in

<question>:
How was Ernie's life after the gifts compared to before?

<options>:
A More comfortable
B More stressful
C Less exciting
D More fun

<answer>:

B