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

<passage>:
Illustrated by Gaughan "The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service." "Inter-what?" "Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary." Earth ... is this what is going to happen? I Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied, Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963 in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's travel-stained six foot one. "Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me." He nodded toward the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something "What do you want with me?" that needed oiling. "Something about important information regarding Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] When the Great Galactic Union first encounters white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk, an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates, from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large who hadn't entered in the usual way. Theory failed at that point that left the experimental method. The the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a magazine. It was a cheerful scene So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up, he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air. The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs. They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework. A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had prepared for the occasion: Greeting, visitors from the Future.... Hopelessly corny. What about: Welcome to the Twentieth Century.... it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting. "Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period." Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack. "Like always," he grumbled. "No nood dames. I like nood dames." "Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—" Manny looked. "Yeah, nice use of values," he conceded. "But I still Fiorello. "Listen, I figured out—" "Pretty clever!" Kelly's voice barked. "Inside job. But it takes more than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly." us." "Can't be helped." in among brick and mortar particles.... But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of above the brown eyes. "Who're you?" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor. anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?" accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily at work studying the ceiling. "I hope," the voice said, "that you ain't harboring no reactionary racial prejudices." "Gosh, no," Dan reassured the eye. "I'm crazy about—uh—" "Vorplischers," the voice said. "From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call "Time machine?" The brown eyes blinked alternately. "I fear some confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term." "Time machine," the voice repeated. "Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?" "Huh?" "I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the time machine?" "Well, it's what you use to travel through time." The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. "Apparently I've loused up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea you were capable of that sort of thing." The immense head leaned back, the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. "And to think I've been spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!" "That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as Endsville." "Your superiors?" Dan eyed the window has to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just materialize out of thin air like that." "You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan," Blote said. "You shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel, that everyone has. Now—" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—"I'll condition for me. And in return—" " I'm The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan. "Whereas, on the other hand," Blote's bass voice went on, "you and me Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it. took the directory, studied it. visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a tight-fitting white uniform stepped through. Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face, the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set a smile which showed square yellowish teeth. " Alors, monsieur ," the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in a quick bow. " Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas? " "No compree," Dan choked out "Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay...." Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class

<question>:
What is the author's purpose in providing such detailed descriptions of Blote and Dzhackoon?

<options>:
A To better familiarize the audience with the setting of the places Dan visited.
B To explain why Dan was so intrigued by these characters.
C To show that people in the future do not look as human as a character like Dan.
D To show that these characters are unlike the human ones on Earth.

<answer>:

D