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

<passage>:
I had a horrible suspicion. "Not again?" I said softly. Baxter swore under his breath. Then he reached across the desktop and tossed me the Amnesty. Jery Delvin had a most unusual talent. He could detect the flaws in greatest mystery, Jery assumed that it was because of his mental time to pierce the maze of out-of-this-world double-dealing. For Jery had become a walking bomb, and when he set himself off, it would be the end of the whole puzzle of THE SECRET MARTIANS—with Jery as the first determined to make a career of full-time fiction-writing. Oddly enough, it worked out, and he now does nothing else. He says, "I'd like to say I do this for fulfillment, or for cash, or because it's my destiny however, the real reason (same as that expressed by Jean Kerr) is that this kind of stay-at-home self-employment lets me "Jery Delvin?" said the one on my left, a note of no-funny-business in the golden bulk of their holstered collapsers. There was nothing for me to do but sweat it out and to try and enjoy the ride, wherever we were going. are Jery Delvin?" President in power, and not even that in matters of security. I managed to nod. always reacts to an obvious cliche. Then, with something like a look of relief on his blunt face, he "Jery Delvin," he read, musingly and dispassionately. "Five foot eleven fool the average consumer indefinitely." I sat back, feeling much better. "That's right, sir." "They—they block my thinking, sir, that's all. Why, take that example think of looking at twice, except for business reasons, of course, has to stay out of my office when I'm working, or I can't function." "You have my sympathy, son," Baxter said, not unkindly. "Thank you, sir. It hasn't been easy." is.... You have been chosen for an extremely important mission." I couldn't have been more surprised had he announced my incipient "You mean that International Cybernetics picked me for a mission? had to submit the problem to the Brain." that the Brain always picks the right man." we got. You, son, are the solution." Chief of Security or not, I was getting a little burned up at his highhanded treatment of my emotions. "How nice!" I said icily. "Now if I thought a second, then nodded. "They've been having such a good time that the government extended their trip by—Why are you shaking your head that way, sir?" misuse of tenses, deliberate misspellings. They take it out of an adult, especially an adult with a mind keen enough to get him into Interplanetary Security. We've limited the shifts to four hours per man per day. Otherwise, they'd all be gibbering by now!" "That, in a nutshell is our problem. We coded and fed to the Brain "That's just it," Baxter sighed. "We don't even know that! We're like a savage who finds a pistol: used correctly, it's a mean little weapon pointed the wrong way, it's a quick suicide. So, you are our weapon. by Baxter and counterembossed with the President's special device, a small globe surmounted by clasping hands. It gave me authority to do finest would raise a hand to stop me. And, snugly enholstered, I carried a collapser, the restricted weapon given only to Security Agents, so deadly was its molecule-disrupting Amnesty, they called it—such as I possessed, and a collapser, I could go anywhere, do anything, commandeer anything I might need. All with no questions asked. Needless to say, I was feeling pretty chipper as I influential human being in the known universe. The pilot, as per my videophoned request, was waiting there for me. I floor. "Yes, sir!" he said loudly, throwing me a quivering salute. His eyes were a bit wild as they took me in. And well they might be. An Amnesty-bearer can suddenly decide a subject is not answering questions to his satisfaction and simply blast the annoying party to atoms. It makes for straight responses. Of course, I was dressing the part, in a way. I wore the Amnesty suspended by a quite sinister. I'm under six feet, but I'm angular and wiry. Thus, in ominous black, with an Amnesty on my breast and a collapser in my holster, I was a sight to strike even honest citizens into quick examinations of conscience. I felt a little silly, but the outfit was "No. It's saved, sir. It gets distilled and stored for washing and drinking. Otherwise, we'd all dehydrate, with no water to replace the water we lost." He stared, then frowned, and thought hard. "Yes, sir," he said, after a minute. "Even twice that, with no trouble, but—" He caught himself short. It didn't pay to be too curious about the aims of an Amnesty-bearer. "It's all right, Anders. You've been a tremendous help. Just one thing. last—interview with Chief Baxter. I had a slight inkling why the Brain malevolent with the pilot. And I'm ordinarily on the shy side, as a matter of fact." "It's the Amnesty that does it," he said, gesturing toward the disc. It lay on his desk, now, along with the collapser. I felt, with the new information I'd garnered, that my work was done, and that the new data fed into the Brain would produce some other results, not involving me. I looked at the Amnesty, then nodded. "Kind of gets you, after awhile. To know that you are the most influential person in creation is to automatically act the part. A shame, in a way." Amnesty was created in the first place?" I sat up straight and scratched the back of my head. "Now you mention it, I really don't know. It seems a pretty dangerous thing to have about, the way people jump when they see it." "It is dangerous, of course, but it's vitally necessary. You're young, Jery Delvin, and even the finest history course available these days is slanted in favor of World Government. So you have no idea how tough things were before the Amnesty came along. Ever hear of red tape?" I shook my head. "No, I don't believe so. Unless it had something to do was impossible, Jery, my boy, to get anything done whatsoever without accurate and swift action impossible, sometimes. What we needed, of course, was a person who could simply have all authority, in order to save the sometimes disastrous delays. So we came up with the Amnesty." "But the danger. If you should pick the wrong man—" Baxter smiled. "No chance of that, Jery. We didn't leave it up to any committee or bureau or any other faction to do the picking. Hell, that name." I stared at him. "Then, when I was here before, I was here solely to receive the Amnesty, is that it?" Baxter nodded. "The Brain just picks the men. Then we tell the men the situation, hand over the Amnesty, and pray." I had a sudden thought. "Say, what happens if two men are selected by the Brain? Who has authority over whom?" unprecedented in the history of the Brain or the Amnesty." He grinned, suddenly. "Besides, it can't happen. There's only one of these—" he I sank back into the contour chair, and glanced at my watch. Much too late to go back to work. I'd done a lot in one day, I reasoned. Well, the thing was out of my hands. Baxter had the information I'd come

<question>:
Why does the Brain select Jery to hold the amnesty?

<options>:
A To prevent someone like Baxter wielding and misusing it.
B Because he's not really qualified, making him a wildcard.
C Because of his ability to parse situations.
D Because he will responsibly wield the amnesty.

<answer>:

C