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

<passage>:
A Coffin for Jacob A night without darkness passed. Ben lay waiting for Maggie's return, a Ben Curtis eased his pale, gaunt body through the open doorway of the "Who is he?" Blast Inn, the dead man following silently behind him. there, Ben saw moving figures. He could not tell if they were Earthmen, Someone tugged at his greasy coat. He jumped, thinking absurdly that it was the dead man's hand. " Coma esta, senor? Ben looked down. The dome we're in now was designed and built by us a few years ago after we got pushed off Mars. We lost a few men in the construction, but with almost every advance in space, someone dies." "I'm American," Ben muttered. "Venus is getting too civilized. We're moving out and this dome is only a temporary base when we have cases like yours. The new base—I might a red-skinned marionette with pipestem arms and legs, clad in a torn "Jacob? Your husband?" frontiers. Jacob and those like him can never return to Earth—not even to Hoover City—except dead. The others are physical or psycho rejects who couldn't get clearance if they went back to Earth. They know Ben shook his head. or your Devil's Egg or your Venusian kali. But if you had a drug that'd bring a dead man to life, I'd buy and pay with my soul. "It is deal, monsieur Ben scowled. "What happens if there could The boy grabbed his hand. Because Ben could think of no reason for be us, you know—if we live long enough. But that Asteroid Belt is murder. You Ben stiffened. "And that's why you want me for an astrogator." Several times, Ben glimpsed the bulky figures of CO unblinking. They certainly didn't look like telepaths, as Ben had heard , Ben told himself. The officer passed. Ben breathed easier. mankind would never have broken away from the planet that held it prisoner for half a million years. Without them, Everson, after three failures and a hundred men dead, Ben winced. How did this kid know he wanted to sit in the shadows? Frowning, he sat down—he and the dead man. forgotten grandeur. For an instant, Ben's mind rose above the haunting vision of the dead man. He thought, , he thought. You've got to find the man with the red beard. It's the only way you can escape the dead man. The dead man was real. His name was Cobb. He was stout and flabby and about forty and he hated spacemen. His body was buried now—probably in the silent gray wastes outside Luna City. But he'd become a kind of invisible Siamese twin, as much a part of Ben as sight in his eyes. Again, its face would be a pop-eyed mask of surprise as Ben's fist whiteness of death. The large eyes would stare. Blood would trickle from a corner of the gaping mouth. You can forget a living man. You can defeat him or submit to him or ignore him, and the matter is over and done. You can't escape from a memory that has burned into your mind. been successful. Ben, quietly and moderately, wanted to celebrate. Ben smiled. "If it weren't for spacemen, you wouldn't be here." Ben stiffened. He was twenty-four and dressed in the white, Ben rose and started to leave the bar, but Cobb grabbed his arm and Until this instant, Ben had suppressed his anger. Now, suddenly and His fist struck the man on the chin. Cobb's eyes gaped in shocked horror. He spun backward. His head cracked sickeningly on the edge of the bar. The sound was like a punctuation mark signaling the end of life. He sank to the floor, eyes glassy, blood tricking down his jaw. Ben knew that he was dead. Then, for a single absurd second, Ben was seized with terror—just as, a moment before, he'd been overwhelmed with anger. He ran. He was sorry he'd hit Cobb, of course. He was not sorry he'd run. Escaping at least gave him a power of choice, of decision. You can do two things manslaughter. Under interplanetary law, that would mean ten years in prison and a dishonorable discharge. And then you'd be free. But you'd be through with rockets and space. They don't want new , Ben reflected, Earth. After all, was it right for a single second, a single insignificant second, to destroy a man's life and his dream? He was lucky. He found a tramp freighter whose skipper was on his last flight before retirement. Discipline was lax, investigation of new personnel even more so. Ben Curtis made it to Venus. There was just one flaw in his decision. He hadn't realized that the memory of the dead man's face would haunt him, torment him, follow him as constantly as breath flowed into his lungs. But might not the rumble of atomic engines drown the murmuring dead obscure the dead face? So now he sat searching for a perhaps nonexistent red-bearded giant, Ben threw a fifty-cent credit piece on the table. "Here. Take off, will Ben didn't answer. Ben raised his hand as if to strike the boy. face with a red beard. reward must have been offered for his capture. Whom could he trust? The wheel with Ben as their focal point. falling. The white-clad men charged, neuro-clubs upraised. Ben's direction. Ben whirled away from the advancing police, made for the exit into escaping from a container. A dime-sized section of the concrete wall ahead of him crumbled. his body. He staggered like a man of stone moving in slow motion. He'd have fifteen—maybe twenty—seconds before complete lethargy of mind and body overpowered him. "Yes." "You may die if you don't give yourself up." "No, no." He tried to stumble toward the exit. "You're sure?" the voice persisted. "I'm sure," Ben managed to say. "I have no antidote. You may die." His mind fought to comprehend. With the anti-paralysis injection, massage and rest, a man could recover from the effects of mortocain within half a day. Without treatment, the paralysis could spread to heart and lungs. It could become a paralysis of death. An effective weapon: the slightest wound compelled the average criminal to surrender at once. "Anti ... anti ..." The words were as heavy as blobs of mercury forced from his throat. "No ... I'm sure ... sure." He didn't hear the answer or anything else. Ben Curtis had no precise sensation of awakening. Return to transfer itself to his own body. am going to live?" "You will live." He thought for a moment. "How long have I been here?" Fascinated, Ben nodded. You did well on your flight from Roswell to Luna City. In a barroom fight in Luna City, you struck and killed a man named Arthur Cobb, a pre-fab salesman. You've been charged with second degree murder and "Yes?" "The man I killed—did he have a wife?" She hesitated. He thought, Damn it, of all the questions, why did I The object was a tri-dimensional photo of a rock-faced man in a Ben stared at the photo for a long time. At length, he slipped into restless sleep. Images of faces and echoes of words spun through his brain. The dead man returned to him. Bloodied lips cursed at him. Glassy eyes accused him. Somewhere were two lost children crying in the night. And towering above him was a red-bearded man whose great hands reached down and beckoned to him. Ben crawled through the night on hands and

<question>:
What does the dead man represent for Ben?

<options>:
A His conscious. He is manifesting as Ben's rage, and the anger that he felt during the incident.
B The end of his freedom. He represents his new life as an outlaw.
C His conscious. He is manifesting as Ben's unaddressed guilt, and what he can never run away from.
D The end of his career. He sees the dead man as the loss of his livelihood.

<answer>:

C