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

<passage>:
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from The Counterfeit Man More Science Fiction without note. Circus "Just suppose," said Morgan, "that I did believe you. Just for argument." He glanced up at the man across the restaurant table. "Where would we go from here?" The man shifted uneasily in his seat. He was silent, staring down at his plate. Not a strange-looking man, Morgan thought. Rather ordinary, in fact. A plain face, nose a little too long, fingers a little too dainty, a suit that doesn't quite seem to fit, but all in all, a perfectly ordinary looking man. Maybe too ordinary, Morgan thought. Finally the man looked up. His eyes were dark, with a hunted look in their depths that chilled Morgan a little. "Where say your name is Parks—right?" The man nodded. "Jefferson Haldeman Parks, if that helps Parks nodded. and tried to flag down a ride." " Strange! " Parks' eyes widened. "I—I was speechless. At first I hadn't noticed too much—I was concerned with the fall, "Well, obviously, I needed money. I had gold coin. There had been no way of knowing if it would be useful, but I'd taken it on chance. I tried to use it at a newsstand first, and the Parks dropped two small gold discs on the table. They were perfectly smooth and perfectly round, tapered by wear to a thin blunt edge. There was no design on them, and no printing. Morgan looked up at the man sharply. "What did you get for Parks shrugged. "Too little, I suspect. Two dollars for the "I know that now. I didn't then. Naturally, I assumed that with everything else so similar, principles of business would also be similar." Morgan sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, then what?" Parks poured some more coffee. His face was very pale, "No. I wanted to see the mayor himself. I thought that was "They didn't believe you," said Morgan. "Not for a minute. They laughed in my face." Morgan nodded. "I'm beginning to get the pattern. So what only they weren't so gentle. They wouldn't listen either. They muttered something about cranks and their crazy notions, and when they asked me where I lived, they thought I was—what did they call it?—a wise guy! Told me to get out and not come back with any more wild stories." prepared for almost anything excepting this. It was frightening. I tried to rationalize it, and then I quit trying. It wasn't that I attracted attention, or anything like that, quite the contrary. Nobody even looked at me, unless I said something to them. I began to look for things that were different , things that I could show them, and say, see, this proves that I'm telling the truth, look at it—" He looked up helplessly. "And what did you find?" "Nothing. Oh, little things, insignificant little things. Your calendars, for instance. Naturally, I couldn't understand your frame of reference. And the coinage, you stamp your coins we We have little animals that look more like rabbits than poodles. But there was nothing any more significant than that. Absolutely nothing." "Except yourself," Morgan said. "Ah, yes. I thought that over carefully. I looked for differences, obvious ones. I couldn't find any. You can see that, just looking at me. So I searched for more subtle things. Skin texture, fingerprints, bone structure, body proportion. I still Parks shrugged tiredly. "Not really. He examined me. He practically took me apart. I carefully refrained from saying anything about who I was or where I came from just said on the back and said, 'Parks, you've got nothing to worry being as I've ever seen.' And that was that." Parks laughed bitterly. "I guess I was supposed to be happy with the verdict, defied reason, it was infuriating." Morgan nodded sourly. "Because you're not a human being," he said. "That's right. I'm not a human being at all." "How did you happen to pick this planet, or this sun?" Morgan asked curiously. "There must have been a million Parks unbuttoned his collar and rubbed his stubbled chin you fiction writers make so much of. With a rocket vehicle you pick your destination, make your calculations, and off you go. something blew. Next thing I knew I was falling. When I tried to make contact again, the scanner was gone!" "And you found things here the same as back home," said "The same! Your planet and mine are practically twins. Similar cities, similar technology, everything. The people are the same, with precisely the same anatomy and physiology, the same sort of laws, the same institutions, even compatible languages. Can't you see the importance of it? This planet is on the other side of the universe from mine, with the first intelligent life we've yet encountered anywhere. But when I try to tell your people that I'm a native of another star system, they won't believe me !" "Why should they?" asked Morgan. "You look like a human being. You talk like one. You eat like one. You act like one. What you're asking them to believe is utterly incredible." " But it's true. " Morgan shrugged. "So it's true. I won't argue with you. But as I asked before, even if I did believe you, what do you expect to do about it? Why pick There was a desperate light in Parks' eyes. "I was tired, tired of being laughed at, tired of having people looking at me as though I'd lost my wits when I tried to tell them the truth. You were here, you were alone, so I started talking. And then I found out you wrote stories." He looked up eagerly. "I've got to get back, Morgan, somehow. My life is there, my family. And think what it would mean to both of our worlds—contact with another intelligent race! Combine our knowledges, our technologies, and we could explore the galaxy!" He leaned forward, his thin face intense. "I need money and I need help. I know some of the mathematics of the warp principle, know some of the design, some of the power and wiring principles. You have engineers here, technologists, physicists. But they won't do it if they don't believe me. Your government won't listen to me, they won't appropriate any money." "Of course they won't. They've got a war or two on their hands, they have public welfare, and atomic bombs, and write ! That's what you can do. You can tell the world about me, you can tell exactly what has happened. I know how public interest can be aroused in my world. It must be the same in yours." "A dozen, a hundred, maybe a thousand." "And how many believed you?" "None." "You mean nobody would believe you?" " Jefferson Parks gripped the table, his knuckles white. "Why?" he cried hoarsely. "If you believe me, why can't you help me?" Morgan pointed to the magazine lying on the table. "I write, yes," he said sadly. "Ever read stories like this before?" Parks picked up the magazine, glanced at the bright cover. "I barely looked at it." "You should look more closely. I have a story in this issue. The readers thought it was very interesting," Morgan grinned. "Go ahead, look at it." The stranger from the stars leafed through the magazine, caught the first paragraph and he turned white. He set the magazine down with a trembling hand. "I see," he said, and the life was gone out of his voice. He spread the pages viciously, The paragraph said: "Just suppose," said Martin, "that I did believe you. Just for argument." He glanced up at the man across the table. "Where do we go from here?"

<question>:
Why is it significant that Parks is so ordinary?

<options>:
A He does not look like a stereotypical criminal, which makes him more credible.
B He appears to be mentally stable, proving that anyone can have a mental illness.
C He appears to be a regular human, which makes his story more unbelievable.
D Writers often find ordinary things to be interesting.

<answer>:

C