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

<passage>:
and that was the direction of Haron Gorka's place. The fact that in all probability such a man did not exist disturbed Matilda not in the least. She had been known to say that there are over a billion men in the world, a goodly percentage of whom are eligible he had to miss his college reunion. That's all he has to hide. A stuffy Victorian prude and even less of a man than the others." . Or, that is, him . Intelligent, somewhat egotistical male who's really been around, whose universal experience can make the average cosmopolite look like a provincial hick, is in need of several female correspondents: must be The name—Haron Gorka: its oddness was somehow beautiful to Matilda. Haron Gorka—the nationality could be anything. And that was it. He had no nationality for all intents and purposes he was an international man, a figure among figures, a paragon.... about the house without her mother knowing about it, and that even his glasses and answer questions grudgingly. "Hello," said Matilda. The stereotype grunted and peered at her over his glasses. Matilda asked him where she could find Haron Gorka. "I said, where can I find Haron Gorka?" "Is that in the United States?" "It's not a that it's a he. Where can I find him? Where does he live? What's the quickest way to get there?" The stereotype pushed up his glasses and looked at her squarely. "Now take it easy, ma'am. First place, I don't know any Haron Gorka—" Matilda did, only they didn't know any Haron Gorka, either. It turned random. As far us the gentry of Cedar Falls was concerned, Haron Gorka early. If she could not find Haron Gorka, that was one thing Haron Gorka would be an avid reader, and unless he had a permanent residence here in Cedar Palls, one couldn't expect that he'd have his librarian would know Mr. Haron Gorka. "Haron Gorka." The librarian nodded. "How on earth did you know?" you in the afternoon. I never did trust this Mr. Gorka...." "You know him? You know Haron Gorka?" "What do you mean?" "I mean anyone would like to correspond with Haron Gorka. Or to know him well. To be considered his friend. Haron Gorka...." The librarian seemed about to soar off into the air someplace, and if "Um, where can I find Mr. Gorka?" "I'm not supposed to do this, you know. We're not permitted to give the addresses of any of our people. Against regulations, my dear." "Sorry. What then?" "If I can't enjoy an association with Haron Gorka directly, I still could get the vicarious pleasure of your contact with him. Report to me faithfully and you'll get his address. That's what the other five will of you will tell me about Haron Gorka, sparing no details. You each Haron Gorka lived in what could have been an agrarian estate, except spirits in check. Haron Gorka, the man, was what counted, and the librarian's account of him certainly had been glowing enough. Perhaps he was too busy with his cultural pursuits to pay any real attention to only one with the idea to visit Haron Gorka in person. With half a As it turned out, she wasn't. Not only that, she was welcomed with open arms. Not by Haron Gorka that she really might have liked. Instead, someone she could only regard as a menial met her, and when he asked had she come in response to the advertisement, she nodded eagerly. "What about Mr. Gorka?" "When he wants you, he will send for you. Meanwhile, make yourself to home, lady, and I will tell him you are here." her fault if, in his unconcern, Haron Gorka had unwittingly hired a she had a nightmare in which Haron Gorka appeared as a giant with two attributed to coincidence, and the further fact that everything was extremely palatable made her forget all about Haron Gorka's neurotic servant. The feeling did not last long. Standing over her was Haron Gorka's servant, and he said, "Mr. Gorka will see you now." "Now?" "Now. That's what you're here for, isn't it?" She told the servant so. "Miss," he replied, "I assure you it will not matter in the least to Haron Gorka. You are here and he is ready to see you and that is all that matters." Haron Gorka. Well, then, she must see to it that she impressed him Haron Gorka. It was not that he was homely and unimpressive almost-Roman nose, a petulant mouth with the slight arch of the egotist at each corner. He said, "Greetings. You have come—" "In response to your ad. How do you do, Mr. Gorka?" She hoped she wasn't being too formal. But, then, there was no sense in man. Well, Haron Gorka obviously had more experience along these lines dinner," she told him brightly. "Eh? What say? Oh, yes, naturally. A combination of telepathy and teleportation. The synthetic cookery is attuned to your mind when you press the buzzer, and the strength of your psychic impulses determines how closely the meal will adjust to your desires. The fact that the Haron Gorka were to talk to her as he saw fit. "Well, what, Mr. Gorka?" a merry chase across the frozen surface of D VII. You travel in the Deneb system now and Interstellar Ordinance makes it mandatory to carry flaaks with you. Excellent idea, really excellent." that Haron Gorka was mouthing gibberish. But on the other hand she all over that system—" "Stop!" "What's that? Making fun of you?" Haron Gorka's voice had been so eager as he spoke, high-pitched, almost like a child's, and now he Haron Gorka turned his back. Haron Gorka's guests to depart. Then Haron Gorka had severed that relationship, too, and now he was all were, of course, two alternatives. Either Haron Gorka was an eccentric who enjoyed this sort of outlandish tomfoolery, or else he was plainly insane. She could still picture him ranting on aimlessly to no one in particular about places which had no existence outside of his mind, his voice high-pitched and eager. in detail. She did this first because it was a promise, and second because she knew it would make her feel better. "So," she finished, "Haron Gorka is either extremely eccentric or insane. I'm sorry." "He's neither," the librarian contradicted. "Perhaps he is slightly eccentric by your standards, but really, my dear, he is neither." "What do you mean?" "Did he leave a message for his wife?" "Why, yes. Yes, he did. But how did you know? Oh, I suppose he told the "I am Mrs. Gorka." see, my dear, Haron expects too much. He expects entirely too much." anybody, but here she found herself confronted with two. "We've been tripping for centuries, visiting every habitable star system from our home near Canopus. But Haron is too demanding. He says I am a finicky traveler, that he could do much better alone, the accommodations have to be just right for me, and so forth. When he loses his temper, he tries to convince me that any number of females of the particular planet would be more than thrilled if they were given the opportunity just to listen to him.

<question>:
Why does no one on town know who Haron Gorka is?

<options>:
A Haron Gorka isn’t his real name. Thus, there’s no records of him.
B He’s not a real resident. He’s using a fake name while he stays in town.
C He travels so much that the people in town haven’t gotten to know him.
D He’s not a real resident, but an interstellar visitor.

<answer>:

D