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

<passage>:
the sides. Not greatly different and repulsion through a tube exhausted of air, at a speed that would have made an old The . They were uncovering new talent at such a great rate, hundred and fifty stories. Eric Fletcher Pratt and Miles J. Breuer), that Jack Williamson barely managed to become one of which bore the words: a distinguished group of discoveries warm downpour. Dry wood As they approached, a lean The Metal Man. A disciple of A. Merritt, he attempted to imitate in style, mood man, carrying a black bag, darted The imitation found great favor from the readership and almost late lamented master of fantasy. and subject the magic of that dramatization of them on the . He followed his initial success with two short novels and The Alien Intelligence The thin man in black, whom Eric now recognized as a prominent French heart-specialist, was dear?" these stories were close copies of A. Merritt, whose style and method Yet the strange thing about it was that Jack Williamson was one of the most versatile science fiction authors ever to sit down television screens. They thrilled dollars and eighty cents, please.... Your turn next. Remember this is just an experimental memorable super lock-picker Giles Habilula as the major attraction in a rousing trio of space One Against the "Why, hello, Eric, old man!" with second. The youth turned toward "With "None of your impertinence, sir! I want my dog." "Ah, a dog. Must have jumped and—" "Young man, if any harm trees, and coconut palms, but granted, regardless of the quantity the story. With only a few thousand The His father was a cattle man, but for young Jack, the "with monotonous rounds of what seemed an endless, heart-breaking war with Eric?" drought and frost and dust-storms, poison-weeds and hail, for the sake of survival on the Llano Estacado." of AMAZING STORIES was the escape he sought and his goal was to be a science fiction writer. He labored to this end and the first he knew that a story of his had Eric held up the silver flask. of he has written millions of words of science fiction and has gone on record as follows: "I feel that to a technological environment. is dangerous. I've got a sort of most interesting and stimulating form of literature today." television attachment, for focusing pajamas. He smiled fondly across for what happens afterward." "Simple, primitive life is what we're looking for. And now what do I owe you—" open again, and Eric led Nada that would have been strange to the man of four or and also with scientific appliances five centuries before, when the Eric helped Nada to a place of a high island in the jungle. I say—how're you coming back? heroes in your books!" With another yawn, Mr. Eric Nada and Eric felt themselves the ancient ranches. Or a man seated himself before a broad, The the vanishing hero of their faces. Eric sat up, found roaring through the jungle, with was an author. There was a whole pleasure to the young novelist's He wrote "thrilling action romances," as his enthusiastic publishers were men. Red-blooded heroes responding vigorously to the stirring passions of primordial life!" He was impartial as to the source of his thrills—provided not parasites on the machines." "It's wonderful to have a fine, hero was likely to be an ape-man strong man like you to trust in, a bloody rock in one hand and a beautiful girl in the other. Or a cowboy, "hard-riding, hard-shooting," they were distant enough from modern civilization. His Eric. You're just like one of the "You're the perfect companion, His heroes were invariably strong, fearless, resourceful fellows, who could handle a club on equal terms with a cave-man, or call science to aid them in defending a beautiful mate from the terrors of a desolate wilderness. Nada.... But now we Eric's novels, and watched the must be practical. We must We need flint for tools, and at the simple, romantic lives his to strike sparks to make a fire heroes led, paid him handsome shared his opinion that civilization had taken all the best from the life of man. Eric had settled down to the royalties, and subconsciously the sensuous delight of his hero in the roasted marrow-bones of a dead mammoth, when the pretty woman in the other marooned with a lovely woman tripping into the study, gay and vivacious, and—as her husband of a few months most justly thought—altogether beautiful in "A darned shame," Eric grumbled, savage animals he had seen in nature had left them even resolved to forget that his next "red-blooded action thriller" was say nothing of a mass of pure tools, sharpened in the fire." "Probably you're right. This soil seemed to be of alluvial origin. Shouldn't be surprised if the television. "We'll find a nice dry cave, sticks together, can't you?" "It can be done, I'm sure. I've never tried it, myself. We need on a desert South Sea island. They resumed the weary And a hundred million read with Nature, and growing things. Men read her poems and called her a genius. Even seemed scarce as the proverbial hen's teeth. though the whole world had grown up into a city, the birds "Matches! Of course not! "Eric, darling," she said, "isn't We're going back to Nature." "I hope we get a fire pretty things we both love?" "Yes, dear. Civilization has ruined the world. If we could only I'm hungry." when life was simple and natural, his own. They turned their attention when men hunted and killed their He confessed to a few pangs of "If dry wood were gold dust, we couldn't buy a hot dog." meat, instead of drinking synthetic slain with a broken branch had contrary ideas about the matter. At last, from sheer weariness, South Sea Islands. But they stuff, when men still had the joys of conflict, instead of With and it must be much like seemingly not inconvenienced in begin life like the characters in your stories, to get away from this hateful civilization, and live natural lives. Maybe a rocket—" Nada clung against Eric. The artistic satisfaction of describing world seems to be in about the "Eric," a thin voice trembled. "Don't you think—it might have been better— You know the old "I've quit bothering about science. It has ruined nature, filled the world with silly, artificial the German physicist." "Eric?" she called softly. both are simply sorts." . And Millikan's of electricity are united to form a single fragment of quartz, to weren't a scientist." He glowed Eric and Nada clung to each with pride. "But the method, in if they were demolishing forests. ones. The Express Ray is an humans. Nada burst into tears. "Oh, if only—if only—" more penetrating." far higher than that of more powerful and overcame them. A few as this!" on the plate—just the same as I can't see how he picture is transformed into mere dissolving layers of the "But the analogy of the lens is the better of the two. For no receiving instrument is required, Mr. Eric Stokes-Harding, noted author of primitive life and love, ate a hearty meal with his pretty spouse, after they had washed opposite each other, and ate, getting as much satisfaction from contemplation of each other's delivered his promised story to his publishers, a thrilling tale of faces as from the excellent food. a beautiful girl. The hero made stone tools, erected a dwelling for himself and his mate, hunted food for her, defended her from the mammoth saurian monsters cares of the morning. The book was a huge success. world. But I know his weak point—" Eric laughed, fumbled with a "Old friendship, plus this, minutes later Mr. Eric

<question>:
How does Eric compare to the protagonists of his novels?

<options>:
A He shares neither a passion nor aptitude for survival
B He shares an aptitude for survival, but not a passion
C He shares a passion and aptitude for survival
D He shares a passion for survival, but not an aptitude

<answer>:

D