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

<passage>:
in each 'copter, stone-faced, staring grimly alert at the prison below. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that guards in Estates-General Correctional Institution—better known to tenements of the laborers' quarters, the wipes shouted from window to window yelled bitterly to his pilot, above the flutter and roar of the He demanded: "Why wouldn't you mop out your cell?" Service Guide to Prison Administration a family fight—and aren't all mechanics a family, aren't all laborers a clan, aren't all clerks and office workers related by closer ties than blood or skin? breakout would mean riot on a bigger scale than any prison had ever don't care. I don't care!" O'Leary stopped her. "That's enough! Three days in Block O!" violate the Categoried Class laws. Don't waste your time with her, Cap'n. She's a figger-lover!" of each specialization—social and genetic measures to make them breed true, because the unspecialized man is an uncivilized man, or at any rate he does not advance civilization. And letting the specializations mix would produce genetic undesirables: clerk-laborer or Professional-GI misfits, for example, being only half specialized, would be good at no specialization. didn't. There wasn't anything wrong with that job, he told himself. It was a perfectly good civil-service position—better than post-office clerk, clerk , he corrected himself—if he had happened to be born a clerk, why, he would have been proud of that, too. There wasn't anything wrong with being a clerk—or a mechanic or a soldier, or even a laborer, for that matter. Good laborers were the salt of the Earth! They weren't smart, maybe, but they had a—well, a sort of natural, relaxed joy of living. O'Leary was a broad-minded man and many times he had thought almost with a laborer . No responsibilities. No worries. Just an easy, slow routine of work and loaf, work and loaf. Of course, he wouldn't really Civil Service and not the kind to try to cross over class barriers that weren't the prison jeep. Lazy, sure. Undependable, certainly. But he kept the Every prison has its Greensleeves—sometimes they are called by called it "the red hats " elsewhere it was called "the hole," "the snake pit," "the Klondike." When you're in it, you don't much care what it is called it is a place for punishment. And punishment is what you get. Block O in Estates-General Correctional Institution was the disciplinary block, and because of the green straitjackets its inhabitants wore, it was called the Greensleeves. It was a community of of 'em, will you? Especially the lady—she's going to like it here, because there's plenty of wipes and greasers and figgers to keep her guards. The outside guard said sourly: "A woman, for God's sake. Now O'Leary knows I hate it when there's a woman in here. It gets the others all riled up." "Let them in," the inside guard told him. "The others are riled up already." could ignore the prisoners—they simply could not move fast enough, the time—only when the cell doors had to be opened or a prisoner's to retch. laborers—"wipes," for short—or, at any rate, they had been once. They had spent so much time in prisons that it was sometimes hard even for them to remember what they really were, outside. Sauer was a big, laughter. "Anyway, if we don't cut this out, they'll get us in trouble, Flock!" "Oh, you think so?" shrieked Flock. "Jeez, I wish you hadn't said that, "You're yellow," the inside guard said moodily. "Ah, I don't know why I don't quit this lousy job. Hey, you! Pipe down or I'll come in and beat your head off!" "Shut up !" yelled the inside guard. it. The crazy yowling of the hard-timers, Sauer and Flock, was getting under her skin. They weren't even—even human , she told herself miserably, trying to weep silently so as not to give the guards the satisfaction of hearing her—they were animals! Resentment and anger, she could understand. She told herself doggedly that resentment and anger were natural and right. They were perfectly normal expressions of the freedom-loving citizen's rebellion against the vile and stifling system of Categoried Classes. It was good that system— But did they have to scream so? The senseless yelling was driving her crazy. She abandoned herself to because noise hides noise. But then she hadn't been a prisoner very "I smell trouble," said O'Leary to the warden. last decent job he would have in his life. "Trouble? What trouble?" The warden, faintly relieved, faintly annoyed, scolded: "O'Leary, what it isn't natural. And there are other things." O'Leary hesitated, frowning. How could you explain to the warden that The warden raised his hand. "Please, O'Leary, don't bother me about just as important as my job," he said piously. " Everybody's job is just as important as everybody else's, right? But we have to stick to our own jobs. We don't want to try to pass ." that for the warden to talk to him? don't want to worry about end of running the prison. And O'Leary choked back his temper. "Warden, I'm telling you that there's "It isn't," the warden said positively. "Don't borrow trouble with tonight, O'Leary, and we'll get along fine. 'Specialization is the—' Oh, curse the thing." they gave you a lift, but they put you on edge. hard-timers of the Greensleeves. thought that maybe, after all, the man was really in pain. Maybe the The outside guard bellowed: "Okay, okay. Take ten!" actuated the tangler fields on the floors of the cells. The prison rules were humanitarian, even for the dregs that inhabited the "Rest period" it was called—in the rule book. The inmates had a less lovely term for it. the faster you tried to move, the greater the resistance. grateful. At least she didn't have to live quite like a fig—like an underprivileged clerk, she told herself, conscience-stricken. Across the hall, the guard was saying irritably: "What the hell's he didn't make sure they all got the most possible free time. He was Every time but this. with pain. hurt. Unless the other screw makes trouble, you won't get hurt, so tell him not to, you hear?" He was nearly fainting with the pain. and picked up the long-distance phone. He said sadly to the prison The word spread out from the prison on seven-league boots. Riot. And yet fewer than half a dozen men were involved. impact of the news from the prison. For the news touched them where their fears lay. Riot! And not merely a street brawl among roistering wipes, or a bar-room fight of greasers relaxing from a hard day at the plant. The riot was down among the corrupt sludge that underlay the state itself. Wipes brawled with wipes and yawned and worried. An alert! The older kids fussed and complained and their mothers shut them up. No, there wasn't any alert scheduled couldn't get up yet—it was the middle of the night. And as soon as they had the kids back in bed, most of the mothers they were to fly interdicting missions at such-and-such levels on such-and-such flight circuits around the prison. were the ones who might actually accomplish something. They took up

<question>:
What seems to be a reason for many being sent to prison?

<options>:
A petty theft and small crimes
B rioting over the rules imposed by the government
C conspiracy theorizing
D people resenting the jobs they're assigned

<answer>:

D