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

<passage>:
it full and most of the warmth had leaked from my fingers when I saw just above the white blanket of frozen air. I'd never seen a live young shaking, and almost froze my feet and did frost my helmet so solid on blankets and rugs Pa has got hung around to slow down the escape of into air, because there's no sound outside in the vacuum, of course. But my mind was still crawly and uneasy as I pushed through the last blankets—Pa's got them faced with aluminum foil to hold in the four of us and our things. The floor is covered with thick woolly rugs. Three of the sides are blankets, and the blankets roofing it never seen the real walls or ceiling. Against one of the blanket-walls is a big set of shelves, with tools The fourth wall has blankets all over except around the fireplace, in pail from me and bawl me out for loitering—he'd spotted my frozen It slowly melts and vanishes and refreshes the Nest and feeds the fire. The blankets keep it from escaping too fast. Pa'd like to seal the whole place, but he can't—building's too earthquake-twisted, and the first blankets, along with extra coal and cans of food and other things, such as pails of snow to melt for water. We have to go way down to the bottom floor for that stuff, which is a mean trip, and get it through a door to outside. You see, when the Earth got cold, all the water in the air froze first and made a blanket ten feet thick or so everywhere, and then down on top of that dropped the crystals of frozen air, making another white blanket sixty or seventy feet thick maybe. Of course, all the parts of the air didn't freeze and snow down at the same time. First to drop out was the carbon dioxide—when you're shoveling for water, you have to make sure you don't go too high and get any of that stuff mixed in, for it would put you to sleep, maybe for good, and make the fire go out. Next there's the nitrogen, which doesn't count one way or the other, though it's the biggest part of the blanket. On top of that and easy to get at, which is lucky for us, there's the oxygen that keeps us alive. Pa says we live better than kings ever did, breathing pure oxygen, but we're used to it and don't notice. Finally, at the very top, there's a slick of liquid helium, which is funny stuff. All of these gases in neat separate layers. Like a pussy caffay, Pa laughingly says, whatever that is. the entry-slit in the blankets and wringing her hands together—the would be frozen dead, it takes on a strange new life. A slimy stuff comes crawling toward the Nest, just like an animal snuffing for heat—that's the liquid helium. And once, when I was little, a bolt of lightning—not even Pa could figure where it came from—hit the nearby steeple and crawled up and down it for weeks, until the glow finally clothes—mine had been warming by the fire. Pa made them. They have plastic headpieces that were once big double-duty transparent food cans, but they keep heat and air in and can replace the air for a little while, long enough for our trips for water and coal and food and so on. knocks off the ice that keeps trying to clog it. Once a week he goes up be anything human or friendly. Besides that, there's a feeling that comes with it always being night, cold air.) We are on a hill and the shimmery plain drops away from us and then flattens out, cut up into neat squares by the troughs that used to by rounded caps of air crystals, like the fur hood Ma wears, only underlined by white dashes of air crystals. Some of them are on a and all the rest that happened when the dark star captured the Earth. Here and there a few icicles hang, water icicles from the first days of the cold, other icicles of frozen air that melted on the roofs and dripped and froze again. Sometimes one of those icicles will catch the steady and warm, and the people on it fixing to make money and wars and what with the earthquakes and floods—imagine, oceans of unfrozen calls it, when all Earth got yanked suddenly, just as Pa has done to buildings toppled, oceans slopped over, swamps and sandy deserts gave great sliding surges that buried nearby lands. Earth was almost jerked out of its atmosphere blanket and the air got so thin in spots that people keeled over and fainted—though of course, at the same time, would freeze—and they'd been working like mad to fix up a place with airtight walls and doors, and insulation against the cold, and big supplies of food and fuel and water and bottled air. But the place in the Big Freeze that followed—followed very quick, you know, both frozen folk I've seen, a few of them in other rooms in our building, others clustered around the furnaces in the basements where we go for a leg in splints. In another, a man and woman are huddled together in a bed with heaps of covers over them. You can just see their heads warmth and food. They're all still and stiff as statues, of course, but just like life. forgotten about that on account of trying to hide it from the others. What, I asked myself, if the frozen folk were coming to life? What if they were like the liquid helium that got a new lease on life and started crawling toward the heat just when you thought its molecules ought to freeze solid forever? Or like the electricity that moves endlessly when it's just about as cold as that? What if the ever-growing cold, with the temperature creeping down the last few degrees to the last zero, had mysteriously wakened the frozen folk to from the dark star and making the frozen folk move, using them to do The frozen folk with minds from the dark star behind their unwinking skin tightened all over me. "Life's always been a business of working hard and fighting the cold," Pa was saying. "The earth's always been a lonely place, millions of inmost blanket trembled and bulged a little. Just as if they were frozen folk certainly wouldn't be wearing those. Also, I noticed that survive we'd just thought so, for natural enough reasons. These three from atomic energy. Just using the uranium and plutonium intended for bombs, they had enough to go on for thousands of years. They had a regular little airtight city, with air-locks and all. They even generated electric light and grew plants and animals by it. (At this Pa let out a second whoop, waking Ma from her faint.) can't maintain an air supply without hermetic sealing. It's simply impossible." They'd been scouting around for survivors, but they never expected to find any in a place like this. They had rocket ships at Los Alamos and plenty of chemical fuel. As for liquid oxygen, all you had to do was go out and shovel the air blanket at the top level survivors. No good trying long-distance radio signals, of course, since there was no atmosphere to carry them around the curve of the Earth. Well, they'd found other colonies at Argonne and Brookhaven and way around the world at Harwell and Tanna Tuva. And now they'd been giving bucket of air quick from behind the blankets. Of course that started them all laughing and jabbering again. The newcomers even got a little drunk. They weren't used to so much oxygen. matter, not having to carry the whole responsibility for keeping the human race going, so to speak. It scares a person." I looked around at the blanket walls and the fire and the pails of air the little pile and grinned suddenly and put a couple of handfuls on,

<question>:
What are the layers of frozen material, from bottom to top?

<options>:
A Water, carbon dioxide, nitrogen, oxygen, helium
B Water, carbon dioxide, helium, oxygen, nitrogen
C Water, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, helium, oxygen
D Water, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, oxygen, helium

<answer>:

A