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

<passage>:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Anybody who shunned a Cure needed his head examined—assuming he had one left! Henry Infield placed the insulated circlet on his head gently. The Infield turned his soft blue eyes to the black and tan oxfords with the Infield shrugged slightly. "I suppose a man must take some chances." Infield whirled and stalked to the desk. "That's the answer! The whole along. Do you know that what we are doing is really the most primitive medicine in the world? We are treating the symptoms and not the disease. One cannibal walking another with sleeping sickness doesn't savages out in the street will die unless we can cure the disease, not only the indications." Morgan shifted his ponderous weight uneasily. "Now, Henry, it's no good to talk like that. We psychiatrists can't turn back the clock. There just aren't enough of us or enough time to give that old-fashioned Infield leaned on the desk and glared. "I called myself a psychiatrist mean to say that man's senses will only be impaired 23 per cent? Why, he'll turn violently schizophrenic sooner or later—and you know it. The only cure we have for that is still a strait jacket, a padded cell or one of those inhuman lobotomies." Morgan shrugged helplessly. "You're an idealist." Suddenly something else was pushing against Infield, forcing the Infield's pulse raced, trying to get ahead of his thoughts, and losing out. A chance to study a pseudo-culture of the "Cured" developed in Infield shifted around, trying to see that side of his benefactor, Infield supposed it was a Cure, although he had never issued one like it. He didn't know if it would be good form to inquire what kind it was. "It's a cure for alcoholism," Price told him. "It runs a constant blood check to see that the alcohol level doesn't go over the sobriety limit." "What happens if you take one too many?" Price looked off as if at something not particularly interesting, but more interesting than what he was saying. "It drives a needle into my temple and kills me." The psychiatrist felt cold fury rising in him. The Cures were supposed to save lives, not endanger them. "What kind of irresponsible idiot could have issued such a device?" he demanded angrily. Price probably would never get crazed enough for liquor to kill himself, Infield knew. The threat of death would keep him constantly shocked sane. Men hide in the comforts of insanity, but when faced with in a fire, though, he may run. His legs were definitely paralyzed before and may be again, but for one moment he would forget the moral defeat of his life and his withdrawal from life and live an enforced sanity. But sometimes the withdrawal was—or could become—too complete. didn't study his Bible and pray for him, his old dad would die." The psychiatrist knew the threat on the father's part couldn't create Of course he didn't, Infield knew. Why should he? It was useless to learn his Bible lessons to save his father, because it was obvious his father was dead. He would never succeed because there was no reason to to prove that. Reggie went away. Price kept dissecting the tobacco and paper. Infield "Frankly, no," Infield said, realizing it was not the right thing to say but tiring of constant pretense. and endanger other people. The only safe, good sound citizens are Cured. Those lacking Cures—the Incompletes— must be dealt with Infield's throat went dry. "And you're the one to deal with them?" likable, impassioned with his cause, and convinced that it was his divine destiny. He was a psychopathic egotist and a dangerous man. Doubly dangerous to Infield because, even though he was one of the few Price started to glance around the cafe, then half-shrugged, almost visibly thinking that he shouldn't run that routine into the ground. "We'll Cure them whether they want to be Cured or not—for their own good." Infield felt cold inside. After a time, he found that the roaring was not just in his head. It was thundering outside. He was getting sick. Price was the type of man who could spread his ideas throughout the ranks of the Cured—if indeed the plot was not already universal, imposed upon many ill minds. He could picture an entirely Cured world and he didn't like the view. Every Cure cut down on the mental and physical abilities of the patient as it was, whether Morgan and the others admitted it or not. But if everyone had a crutch to lean on for one phobia, he would develop secondary symptoms. People would start needing two Cures—perhaps a foetic gyro and a safety belt—then another and another. There would always be a crutch to lean on for one thing and then room enough to develop something else—until everyone would be loaded down with too many Cures to operate. A Cure was a last resort, dope for a malignancy case, euthanasia for the hopeless. Enforced Cures would be a curse for the individual and the race. But Infield let himself relax. How could anyone force a mechanical and suave, draped clothes. In this den of the Cured, Infield thought He's not an alcoholic. He didn't need to put that Cure on his head. It's just an excuse for not drinking. All of this is just because a But George has been brooding about it ever since. I guess he thinks something else bad will happen because of liquor. That's silly. Why don't you tell him it's silly?" Cure and eager to Cure others. Very eager." Cure is not even thought of—hypochondria. Hundreds of people come to your office for a Cure and you turn them away. Suppose you and the Infield gestured vaguely. "A psychiatrist wouldn't hand out Cures unless they were absolutely necessary." "You'll feel differently after you've been Cured for a while yourself. Infield wasn't a large man, but he had pressed two hundred and fifty "I'll do it if you cause more trouble." Infield sat down and rubbed his "No. No, you aren't." Infield felt an excitement pounding through him, Price stared at him as if he were a padded-cell case. "That's different. I'd be a hopeless drunk without the Cure. Besides, no one ever gets rid of a Cure." They were all looking at Infield. Somehow he felt this represented a critical point in history. It was up to him which turn the world took, the world as represented by these four Cured people. "I'm afraid I'm for good . We've got to go after him." "It's slippery," Davies whimpered. "I might fall." slipped and fell. He would soon find out what they wanted. The excitement was all gone now and it left an empty space into which fear It was his problem. Infield usually solved other people's problems, but now he ran away—he couldn't even solve his own. Infield realized that he had gone mad as he held the thin blade high right behind him, gaining) had been right. No one could discard a Cure. He watched the lightning play its light on the blade of his Cure and he knew that Price was going to kill him in the next moment. He was wrong. "Mr. Infield went out without his Cure in a storm and was struck by out without his Cure."

<question>:
Why was Infield opposed to a world comprised completely of the Cured?

<options>:
A He was completely against the genocidal notions of Georgie in reference to his solution for handling the Incompletes.
B As one of the Normals, Infield had an interest in maintaining a society that balanced those who had Cures with those who did not.
C The Cures gave the individuals who had them abilities almost like superpowers, and Infield worried that a demagogue like Georgie would harness them for his own rise to power.
D He felt it was a slippery slope that would lead to the need for more and more Cures and, ultimately, a general lack of independence.

<answer>:

D