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

<passage>:
Not all the world’s citizens were content. Bergstrom was waiting in his office when Zarwell arrived that evening. to his right but within vision, straightened and barked an order with him?” to him, “Halt!” He lengthened his stride but gave no other sign. “What do you think they’ll do see what he looks like first. They’ll Two men hurried through a doorway of a small anteroom to his “Execute him, I suppose,” the opening beside the escalator. At the first turn he saw that the row of lockers for traveler use. He slipped a coin into a pay slot, opened the zipper on his bag and made the hand farthest from him tight and compact and worked it free of the leather loop. He waited. ruffian, copper-brown face damp with perspiration and body oil, grabbed him by the jacket and slammed him back against the lockers. As he shifted his weight it?” the psychoanalyst Milton Bergstrom, asked. John Zarwell shook his head. “Did I talk while I was under?” “How does it tie in with what I told you before?” Bergstrom’s neat-boned, fair-skinned face betrayed no emotion other than an introspective stillness in the palm of his hand. He knew now why he always carried it. Bergstrom had his bad moment. “You’re not going to …” he began at the sight of the gun. He tried opened the collar of his shirt. The Zarwell corrected him. “You’d be foolish!” Bergstrom obviously realized how close he was to death. Yet surprisingly, after the first start, area. “Good.” Bergstrom rose. “The serum is quite harmless, John.” He maintained a professional diversionary all the planet’s habitable chatter as he administered asked. “Your Meninger oath of inviolable confidence?” Bergstrom shook his head. “I know it’s been broken before. But you need me. You’re not through, and rolled gently toward the far wall. Bergstrom continued talking, “Is that the best you can do?” “No.” Bergstrom was angry now. analyst.” with practiced urbanity. “When “But use that logical mind you’re psychiatry was a less exact science,” patient. If he was skilled enough, he could sort the relevancies from the vast amount of chaff. We are months or years interviewing a serum, to confine our discourses to had to spend weeks, sometimes this have shown what kind of man “Because you’re no mad-dog killer!” Now that the crisis seemed to be past, Bergstrom spoke more calmly, even allowed himself to relax. “You’re still pretty much in put his pistol away in a trouser pocket. Bergstrom brushed the question aside with one hand. “Your name makes little difference. You’ve used He should know all about the the human worlds. I’d like to talk more with you on that later.” While Zarwell considered, Bergstrom pressed his advantage. “One more scene might do it,” he said. them—the man who held mutual attraction. down the escalator, but he surveyed the terminal carefully over the rim of his hand. He spied no suspicious at him. “O DD,” Bergstrom said. He brought his hands up and joined the tips of his fingers against his until he found his key. The briefcase was under his arm a minute As he zipped open the briefcase more to you than the first, I suppose?” “No,” Zarwell answered. He was not a talking man, Bergstrom reflected. It was more than reticence, however. The man had He was a man who could handle himself well in an emergency. Bergstrom shrugged, dismissing his strayed thoughts. “I expected as much. A quite normal first phase again and exchanged the gun for into a trouser pocket, and a single-edged razor blade. Removing his fiber-cloth jacket he slashed it into strips with the razor blade and flushed it down the as he strolled from the compartment. Back at the locker he replaced the briefcase and, with a wad of gum, glued the key to the bottom of the locker frame. One step more. Taking the syringe from his pocket, he plunged the needle into his forearm and tossed the instrument down a waste chute. He took three more believe the part you’re playing?” “A good man must have done that job on your mind,” Bergstrom and trading marts Zarwell nodded. “I’m glad to hear that,” Bergstrom assured him. “Now that you’re well again I’d like to introduce his ennui. Johnson. This world …” Zarwell stopped him with an upraised hand. “Good God, man, can’t you see the reason for all this? I’m tired. I’m trying to quit.” “Quit?” Bergstrom did not quite follow him. Zarwell explained listlessly. “A gang of hoods had taken over the government. I helped organize a movement to get them out. There job. The political conditions there were rotten. We went with him. understanding, but the strangeness sort of thing.” furnishings, and the clothing he observed to a stranger. also. “I’m not a professional do-gooder.” Zarwell’s tone appealed to Bergstrom for understanding. “I have only a normal man’s indignation at injustice. And now I’ve done Johnson can do your own revolting. I’m through!” Bergstrom did not argue as he left. RESTLESSNESS drove Zarwell wall surrounding the stricken metropolis. He moved in and joined a party of short, bearded men, directing them as they battered at the and stood watching the workmen, he was not surprised. He waited for killing. Zarwell was not the leader of the invaders, only a lesser figure in the beyond the age of sports. He had a manner of contained energy. “You’re Johnson?” he asked. The man nodded. Zarwell tried to feel the anger he was fleeing, pursued by the same bearded men who had been liking the man, and wanting at least conflict engulfed him. Weary but resigned he accepted it, and did what he had to do …BERGSTROM was regarding BERGSTROM was regarding him with speculative scrutiny. Johnson smiled agreeably and “You’ve had quite a past, apparently,” they walked over to the box and sat down. founded,” Johnson began without Zarwell smiled with mild embarrassment. “At least in my dreams.” “Dreams?” Bergstrom’s eyes preamble, “the administrative body pardon. I must have forgotten to explain. This work is so routine to are the rulers. The citizens work twelve hours a day. They are poorly housed They …” past.” Zarwell’s expression became wary. He watched Bergstrom closely. After a minute, however, he seemed satisfied, and he let himself as Johnson’s voice went on. The story was always the same. But why did they always try to drag him into “That’s why you’re here, you know,” Bergstrom answered. “To help you remember.” “But everything under the drug of what I saw,” he observed. back? “… and we need your help.” Johnson had finished his speech. Bergstrom went on, “that your lost memory will turn out to be no ordinary amnesia. I believe we will find Zarwell found himself not listening with.” “That’s what makes me so certain,” Bergstrom said confidently. “You don’t remember what we have shown to be true. Conversely until next week end,” Zarwell reminded him. “That’s right.” Bergstrom thought for a moment. “We shouldn’t let this hang too long. tomorrow?” “I suppose I could.” “Fine,” Bergstrom said with satisfaction. “I’ll admit I’m considerably more than casually interested up the next morning and he rode with a tech crew to the edge of the reclam area. Beside the belt 142 worker’s mouth. Zarwell gazed idly about at the

<question>:
What is Bergstrom's relationship with Johnson?

<options>:
A Johnson is the dictator of St. Martin's where Bergstrom lives.
B Johnson is the client paying Bergstrom to retrieve  Zarwell's memories.
C Johnson is the man Bergstrom wants Zarwell to help overthrow the dictator.
D Johnson is Bergstrom's boss.

<answer>:

C