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

<passage>:
treatment and taking it. But you wouldn't do that. You wanted to commit a crime, get caught and be a hero ... an Ex ." were laughing, squealing with joy as they played games designed by CPA psychologists to relieve tension. And—despite the treatment, Joe Joe had tried dozens of times in dozens of bars to outsmart them, but his arm froze before it moved it an inch. intense that, had it lasted a second longer, he would have screamed in agony. And above the pain, a voice whispered in his head, Unlawful to the whole story to the newspapers as soon as he could. And as soon as that decision formed in his mind, his body froze, the pain returned and the voice, a group of teen-agers scrambled to the dance floor. Feeling safe from hidden microphones because of the uproar, he leaned He smiled at her admiration. It was "I think it's a lousy, filthy system." Joe's head was still tingling something big to plan a crime. with pain and he felt suffocated. The CPA was everywhere, only now it was also inside his head, telling him he couldn't do this, couldn't do that. All his life it had been telling him he couldn't do things he wanted to do and now prisoner inside his own body ... made a prisoner by a world that hated him back. He wanted to spit his contempt, but the increasingly familiar pain and And, ironically, a man who did commit a crime was a sort of hero. He was a hero to the millions of men and women who had suppressed impulses to kill someone, beat their mates, get drunk, or kick a dog. Not only a hero, but because of the CPA Treatment, he was—when he left one of the CPA hospitals—a thoroughly honest and hard-working individual ... a man who could be trusted with any responsibility, any amount of money. He surprised her completely, but when she recovered, she backed away, the act, and if he didn't complete the act, that meant simply that the CPA had once again functioned properly. "What's the matter?" Joe complained. "I'm not asking you to do anything Joe discovered to his dismay that the girl was telling the truth when became acutely aware of its lack of resiliency when his head struck it. There was a wonderful moment while the world was filled with beautiful When he awoke, a rough voice was saying, "Okay. Snap out of it." "Where's the girl?" Joe asked. Joe listened numbly to his voice as it came from one of the hundreds of did prevent you from committing a crime, they'd get a nice reward and they'd be famous." "Lay off," Joe said. "I got a headache. That girl—" Joe squirmed in the chair. He'd been lectured by Hendricks before and Joe couldn't stand the breath in his face any longer. He rose and paced Joe eyed the huge man suspiciously. " Joe laughed. "If your damned CPA is so all-powerful, why can't you make me go?" Joe stared at the door to the adjoining office as it closed behind the Almost running to the desk, Joe opened the book, selected a name and "Huh? Thanks for what? I didn't do anything." When Joe reached the street, he hurried toward the nearest subway. As a child, he had been frightened of the dark. As a man, he wasn't afraid of the dark itself, but the darkened city always made him feel ill at ease. The uneasiness was, more than anything else, caused by his own imagination. He hated the CPA and at night he couldn't shrug the feeling that the CPA lurked in every shadow, watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake. Imagination or not, the CPA was almost everywhere a person went. The FBI had always been a powerful organization, but under the supervision of the CPA, it was a scientific colossus and to think their aim was infallible. It was like a fantastic dream come true. Only the dream wasn't It was monotonous and, after a while, a person looked at the words and heard them without thinking about them. And they were imprinted on his of other DCTs, Joe refused to believe it, and when he reached apartment When Joe entered the cubbyhole, he had to stand to one side in order to it was a place where a man could fall down at night and sleep, but where no normal man could live day after day. Fearing that someone might detect him before he actually committed the crime, Joe hurried to the bureau and searched it. He broke out in a sweat when he found nothing but underwear and old crime, but the newspapers would splash satirical headlines. Instead of being respected as a successful criminal, he would be ridiculed. He stopped sweating when he found a watch under a pile of underwear. but—perfection itself—engraved on the back was the inscription, To John with Love . His trial would be a clean-cut one: it would be easy for the CPA to prove ownership and that a crime had been committed. Chuckling with joy, he opened the window and shouted, " Thief! Police! Help! When Joe was securely handcuffed to a seat inside the helicopter, the He was having a nightmare when he heard the voice, "Hey. Wake up. Hey!" As Joe dressed, he searched his mind and tried to find some difference. During the treatment, he had been unconscious or drugged, unable to think. Now he could think clearly, but he could find no difference in himself. He felt more relaxed than he'd ever felt before, but that could be an after-effect of all the sedatives he'd been given. And, he noticed when he looked in the mirror, he was paler. The treatment had taken months and he had, between operations, been locked in his room. Deliberately goading his mind, he discovered the biggest change: Before, the mere sight of the man had aroused an intense hatred. Now, even when he tried, he succeeded in arousing only a mild hatred. They had toned down his capacity to hate, but not done away with it on the hospital steps: a band, photographers, television trucks, cameramen and autograph hunters. He'd waited a long time for this day. But now—another change in him— He put the emotion into words: "I don't feel like a hero. Funny, but I don't." "Hero!" Hendricks laughed and, with his powerful lungs, it sounded like a bull snorting. "You think a successful criminal is a hero? You stupid—" He laughed again and waved a hand at the crowd below them. "You think those people are down there because they admire what you did? They're down there waiting for you because they're curious, because they're understand he didn't believe. A crowd was waiting for him. He could see the people with his own eyes. When he left the hospital, they'd cheer and shout and ask for his autograph. If he wasn't a hero, what was he It took half an hour to get through the crowd. Cameras clicked all around him, a hundred kids asked for his autograph, everyone talked at once and cheered, smiled, laughed, patted him on the back and cheered some more. Only one thing confused him during all the excitement: a white-haired confusion. What she said didn't make sense. If he had killed someone rather than stealing a watch, he would be even more of a hero and the crowd would have cheered even louder. He knew: he had stood outside the CPA hospitals many times and the crowds always cheered louder when an himself with the thought, People are funny. Who can understand 'em? Feeling happy for one of the few times in his life, he turned toward Hendricks and said, "Thanks for what you did. It turned out great. I'll be able to get a good job now." Joe frowned. Few men had ever done him a favor and he had rarely thanked anyone for anything. And now ... after thanking the man who'd done him the biggest favor of all, the man was denying it!

<question>:
What did Joe find strange when he first awoke at the hospital after his treatment?

<options>:
A He had a pounding headache.
B He felt unable to lie.
C He felt no different.
D He felt like a hero.

<answer>:

C