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 "No!" "Yes, and he will pretend to find you accidentally and get you to help him find a way back to his own world, glorying in making a fool of you. frighten me any more. I've put to sleep too many megalomaniacs, dictators, and civil servants. 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 door, "when are you going to let me throw that stiff Coleman into the sleepy-bye vaults? He's still sitting in there on your furniture as smug as you please." "You don't sound as if you like our distinguished visitor very well," I remarked. "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 Besides, it was guys like him that took away our nightsticks. My boys from society for a specific time so he can't harm that society for that didn't like that. Look at me—I'm defenseless!" purpose of confinement is confinement." The councilman edged forward an inch. "And you really think Dreamland is the most humane confinement possible?" unless—" Coleman lifted a dark eyebrow above a black iris. "Unless?" I cleared my throat. "Unless they go mad and really believe the dream Coleman sat back down suddenly. "You don't want life as a Sleeper, do you?" I pursued. "You did want get through the next twenty-four-hour period as you have through the foregoing part of your Dream, you will be awakened at this time a relatively short He was telling me true, if I had forgotten that everything that happened was only a Dream, and if I admitted it, the councilman would know I was mad. Dream." Coleman stood up and walked out of my office. The clock told me it was after five. I began clearing my desk. a prisoner what the modern penal system was all about by giving him a Dream in which he dreamed about Dreamland itself." "Yes, indeed," Coleman concurred. Just that and no more. to get more out of him, some proof, some clue beyond the preposterous announcement he had made. I held onto the sides of my desk to keep from diving over and teaching him to change his concept of humor. The day was starting. If I got through it, giving a good show, I would be released from my Dream, he had said smugly. But if this was a dream, did I want probation to reality? Horbit was a twitchy little man whose business tunic was the same "Mr. Horbit—Eddie—" I said, glancing at his file projected on my desk pad, "I can't put you back into a Dream. You served your full time for your crime. The maximum." night when he was taking in An American Cousin Horbit couldn't accept history that he had no more life to live. He "Now that you've got it in here," I said in time with the pulse in my 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 waking you up as soon as I've taken away your gun?" "This!" He tossed a sheet of paper onto my desk. "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 signed it, I'll use your phone to have it telefaxed to the Registrar of Horbit's screams brought in the guards. Captain Keller, my head guard, a tough old bird who wore his uniform like armor. "Trying to force his way back to the sleep tanks," I told Keller. He nodded. "Happened before. Back when old man Preston lost his grip." 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. 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 to prove that I was morally capable of returning to the real world? I hardly heard Horbit when he half-shouted at me as my men led him from 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 Warden. No, sir, he had it made." My answer to Keller was forming, building up in my jaw muscles, but I took a pill and it went away. "Hold him in the detention quarters," I said finally. "I'm going to make a study of this." 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 day for me, as Horbit. 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 "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 "Do you want to wait voluntarily in the detention quarters?" I asked him. He agreed readily enough. sentences to be fixed by the warden. My predecessors had given him first a few weeks, then a few months of sleep in Dreamland. Coleman's eyes didn't frighten me me out of executing this sentence by what you told me this morning?" 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 Horbit did. morning, nothing in it for him. Unless— Unless what he said was literally true. Horbit was sitting in his detention quarters idly flicking through Horbit looked up, his eyes set in a clever new way. " "Do you think you can pull the wool over my eyes, you scamp? Mine eyes have seen the glory." "How am I going to accomplish that?" Horbit asked worriedly. 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 Horbit. At the end of it, Paulson was nodding just as eagerly.

<question>:
What did Horbit beg the narrator for?

<options>:
A To quit his job
B To sign a statement certifying he was in a dream
C To put him to death
D To put him to sleep

<answer>:

D