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

<passage>:
How much is the impossible worth? Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that know how it is. Snead's dead, don't you remember?" were they trying to pull on him? "The man who isn't Snead is leaving," Snead's brother, I might catch him to pay my respects." "No," Howell said, "I wouldn't do that." "Snead came to Greta's funeral. It's the least I could do." "I wouldn't. Probably no relation to Snead at all. Somebody who looks like him." "That fellow who just left looked like a friend of yours, huh?" the friend's dead." you've probably got old Snead into trouble." Monster—there's no doubt or semantic leeway to the thing." "You know how it is," Howell said. Linton had thought he had known how death was. He had buried his wife, or rather he had watched the two workmen scoop and shove dirt in on the sawdust-fresh pine box that held the coffin. He had known what he sincerely felt to be a genuine affection for Greta. Even after they had let him out of the asylum as cured, he still secretly believed he had known a genuine affection for her. But it didn't seem he knew about death at all. I suppose he might have been resurrected." "The Mafia, I guess. Who knows who runs it?" "You mean, somebody has invented a way to bring dead people back to some people had a system of making it appear that a person had died patently ridiculous, Linton hoped to bring the contradicting truth to the surface immediately. "An invention? I guess that's how it is," Howell agreed. "I don't know much about people like that. I'm an honest businessman." "But it's wonderful," Linton said, thinking his immediate thoughts. "Wonderful! Why should a thing like that be illegal? Why don't I know in the White House, ready to assassinate if they have to. Death is their whole life. You got to realize that." "That's not enough. Not nearly enough." "Think of all the problems it would cause. Insurance, for one thing. Overpopulation. Birth control is a touchy subject. They'd have to take "But what do they do about it? Against it?" charges, if any, come under general vice classification." to be dead someday,' not anything sexual. You know how it is. The He tried to assimilate it. Of course he had, he reminded himself, been out of touch for some time. It might be true. Then again, they might be But the temptation was too strong. of people and if you're smart, you'll not either." Howell threw money on the table with the same kind of disinterest as the thick-set man and stalked out. disturbing." don't know more than you do." "People who want to know the answers to questions have to ask them. You can find out anything by asking the right questions of the right person at the right time." Linton stared suspiciously. "Do you know where I can find a resurrect the dead?" "Will you stop being cynical? Of course I can!" dead?" "Size has nothing to do with it." "No, my wife has been dead a long time. Months." could be years. Centuries. It's all mathematics, my boy. I need only one fragment of the body and my computers can compute what the rest of it was like and recreate it. It's infallible. Naturally there is a degree of risk involved." realize I've just got out of an institution...." "I've often been in institutions myself, for alcoholism, narcotics addiction and more." "What a wonderful professional career," Linton said, when he couldn't care less. "Oh, yes—yes, indeed. But I didn't come out broke." "Neither did I," Linton said hastily. "I invested in shifty stocks, faltering bonds, and while I was away they sank to rock bottom." "Then—" "When they hit rock bottom, they bounced up. If I hadn't found you, I would have been secure for the rest of my lonely, miserable life." "All that's ended now," the doctor assured him. "Now we must go dig up to obtain. The doctor had taken the body and Linton's fortune and fed them both into the maw of his calculators, and by means of the secret, smuggled formulae, Greta would be cybernetically reborn. Linton shook his head. It seemed impossible. But Greta opened the olive-drab slab of metal of the door to the doctor's inner-inner sanctum and walked out into the medicinal cold fluorescent lighting. It wasn't fair at all, Linton thought. He should have had some time to prepare himself. Greta lifted her arms, stretching the white smock over the lines of her body. "Darling!" she said. "Greta!" he said, feeling a slight revulsion but repressing it. No doubt he would be able to adjust to her once having been dead the same way he had learned to accept the, to him, distasteful duty of kissing her ears the way she enjoyed. Greta swirled across the room and folded her arms across his shoulders. She kissed his cheek. "It's so wonderful to be back. This calls for a celebration. We must see Nancy, Oscar, Johnny, all our old friends." trial." was the same hair, black as evil, contrasting with her inner purity. Of course it would be it hadn't changed even in the grave. He remembered the snaky tendrils of it growing out of the water-logged casket. "I must see all our old friends," Greta persisted. "Helen and Johnny...." "It was a terrible accident right after—that is, about five months "Traffic accident. Killed instantly." "Darling, resurrection is a risky business and an expensive one. You have to pay premium prices for strawberries in February. I no longer have the money to pay for a resurrection of Johnny." Greta turned her back to him. "It's just as well. You shouldn't bring back Johnny to this dream of life, give him a ghost of mind and the sure you haven't the money to do it?" "No," Linton said. "I'm sold out. I've borrowed on my insurance to the hilt. It won't pay any more until I'm buried, and then, of course, you can resurrect me." "Of course," Greta said. She sighed. "Poor Johnny. He was such a good friend of yours. You must miss him. I'm so sorry for you." "I have you," he said with great simplicity. to quench death and smother decay. It's ." "No, dear, it's perfect for some things that have to be done." Her eyes flashed around the doctor's office and settled somewhere, on something. Linton followed the direction of Greta's gaze and found only an ashtray stand, looking vaguely like a fanatic's idol to a heathen religion on a pedestal. Greta pounced on the stand, hefted it at the base and ran toward him with it over her head. Linton leaped aside and Greta hit the edge of the desk instead of him. Brain damage, he concluded nervously. Cell deterioration. Greta raised it again and he caught her wrists high over her head. She writhed against him provocatively. "Frank, I'm sorry, dear, but I have to have that insurance money. It's hell!" green. No one must ever know. in some appalled form of satisfaction as it registered horror and acceptance of the crumpled metal disk falling toward it. wreckage. Yes, it seemed they had to automate and modify the bodies somewhat Or— But it didn't matter. Not a bit. She had thought she was his wife, sharing her viewpoint down to the It was what you thought was real that made it so, not the other way

<question>:
Which of these is not a likely consequence of the end of the story?

<options>:
A Howell will be hesitant to help Linton again
B The doctor continues taking advantage of people
C Linton goes through treatment, eventually repeating the same events
D Greta finds her own way to establish herself and find the money she wants

<answer>:

D