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

<passage>:
“Normality” is a myth we're all a little neurotic, and the study of neurosis has been able to classify the general types of disturbance which are most common. And some types (providing the subject is not suffering so extreme a case as to have crossed the border into psychosis) can be not only useful, but perhaps necessary for certain phonograph playing in one of the summer cabins with names like Polly Ann Roost and Patches and Seventh Heaven, but to Kimmy it was the hated cry of the Father of Therns calling the dreadful Plant Men to their feast of Kimball tried to see him in the black gloom. He hadn’t been asleep. It “Coming up.” He swung his feet to the bare boards and sat for a moment, wishing he hadn’t had to give up smoking. He could almost imagine the textured an easy path and what was coming up now was the hardest part. The goddam psychs were the toughest, always wanting him to bug out on the deal because of their brainwave graphs and word association tests and their Rorschach blots. “You’re a lonely man, Colonel Kimball——” “Too much imagination could be bad for this job.” Kimball snapped on a light and looked at his watch. 0310. Zero minus one For a moment, Kimmy felt a thrill of apprehension. The deepening belong. With my friends, Tars Tarkas the great Green Jeddak, and Carter, the Warlord, and all the beautiful brave people. The phonograph sang with Vallee’s voice: “Cradle me where southern skies can watch me with a million eyes——” Kimball stood now in the bright glare of the briefing shack, a strange silence, studying the red figure of the man who was to ride the rocket. They were thinking: Why him? Out of all the scores of applicants—because there are always applicants for a sure-death information given them straight without his help, given grudgingly and without expression. [118] Kimball listened, only half aware of what was being said. He watched the faces of the men sitting on the rows of folding chairs, saw their eyes like wounds, red from the early morning hour and the murmuring reception I feel, he was thinking. And asking themselves why I want to go. On the dais nearby, listening to the PRO, but watching Kimball, sat Steinhart, the team analyst. Kimball returned his steady gaze thinking: They start out burning with desire to cure the human mind and end with the shadow of the images. The words become the fact, the therapy the Kimball looked around the room at the pale faces, the open mouths. What have I to do with you now, he thought? Outside, the winter night lay cold and still over the Base. Floodlights ferroconcrete. As they filed out of the briefing shack, Steinhart climbed into the command car with Kimball. Chance or design? Kimball wondered. The others, he noticed, were leaving both of them alone. Kimball thought: He’s pale skinned and very blond. What is it that he wore yellow wings and a circlet of gold with some fantastic jewel on their forehead? Kimball had had to give them up because of the flight. Kimball caught the movement and half-smiled. “I didn’t try to kill the assignment for you, Kim,” the psych said. “It doesn’t matter now.” “No, I suppose not.” Kimball said: “I talked too much.” “You had to.” “You were married, Kim. What happened?” Kimball shrugged. “It didn’t work. She was a fine girl—but she what did she expect——?” “That isn’t what she meant. You know that.” “Yes,” the psych said slowly. “I know that.” They rode in silence, across the dark Base, between the concrete sheds and the wooden barracks. Overhead, the stars like dust across the sky. Kimball, swathed in plastic, a fantastic figure not of earth, watched them wheel across the clear, deep night. “I wish you luck, Kim,” Steinhart said. “I mean that.” impatiently. “Set up the camp and wait for the next rocket. If it comes.” “In two years.” “In two years,” the plastic figure said. Didn’t he know that it didn’t matter? should know about. Something you really should be prepared for.” “Yes?” Disinterest in his voice now, Steinhart noted clinically. Natural under the circumstances? Or neurosis building up already? course. You know there’s no such thing as a normal human being. We all symptoms are an overly active imagination and in some cases an inability to distinguish reality from—well, fancy.” Kimball turned to regard the psych coolly . “What’s reality, Steinhart? Do you know?” The analyst flushed. “No.” child.” [120] Kimball was watching the sky again. about the psychology of space-flight, Kim——” Silence. The rumble of the tires on the packed sand of the road, the Kimball nodded absently, wishing the man would be quiet. Mars, a dull Kimmy saw the girls before they saw him. In their new, low waisted They were his sisters, Rose and Margaret. Older than he at fifteen and came up. “Kimm-eeeee—” They were calling him. In the deepening dusk their voices carried far down the river. “Kimmmmm—eeeeeeeeee—” He knew he should answer them, but he did not. Behind him he could hear the awful Plant Men approaching. He shivered with delicious horror. He stood very still, listening to his sisters talking, letting their voices carry down to where he hid from the dangers of the Valley Dor. “Where is that little brat, anyway?” “He always wanders off just at dinnertime and then we have to find him——” “Playing with that old faucet—” Mimicry. “‘My rad-ium pis-tol——’” “Cracked—just cracked. Oh, where IS he, anyway? Kimmm-eee, you AN-swer!” looked at his sisters with dismay. They weren’t really his sisters. They were Therns, with their yellow hair and their pale skins. He and John Carter and Tars Tarkas had fought them many times, piling their bodies for barricades and weaving a flashing pattern of skillful swords in the shifting light of the two moons. [121] “Kimmmm—eeee Mom’s going to be mad at you! Answer us!” clashing—— “He’s up there in that clump of willows—hiding!” “Kimmy! You come down here this instant!” alone. The plastic sac contained him, fed him and the rocket, silent measured by the ticking of the telemeters and the timers, but Kimball slept insulated and complete. And he dreamed. hanging willows. He dreamed of his sisters, thin and angular creatures as he remembered them through the eyes of a nine-year-old—— And his mother, tall and shadowy, standing on the porch of the rented ” And his sisters: “ Playing with his wooden swords and his radium books—— ” heat of the summer nights and the thick longing in his throat for red which lived, for him, through some alchemy of the mind. He dreamed of Mars. And Steinhart: “ What is reality, Kimmy? ” He awoke seldom. His tasks were simple. The plastic sac and the tender care of the ship were more real than the routine jobs of telemetering information back to the Base across the empty miles, across the rim of ” She was right, of course. He [122] Kimball stood in the control room, his heart pounding. Slowly, the ports had never been so alone. A shadowy cavalcade. Strange monstrous men on circling hubs and armored giants, the figments of a long remembered dream—— Kimmm-eee! Kimmmm-eeeee! The voice was thin and distant on the icy wind. Kimball knew that voice. They were the hills of home.

<question>:
Did Kimball's sisters like him?

<options>:
A Yes, they go out to make sure he's safe.
B No, they seem burdened by having him around.
C No, they hate him.
D Yes, they play make believe with him.

<answer>:

B