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

<passage>:
to love them in the parlor and kill them in the kennel. It was only a matter of adjustment. At noon, he brought back another dozen K-99s and installed them in his They were such cute synthetic creatures, it was impossible not to love them. Of course, Intelligent several of the thirty-five over to central lab for dissection and ultimate destruction. That would bring the murderous wrath of their owners down upon him. He began to understand why bio-inspectors were frequently shifted from one territory to another. On the way home, he stopped in Sherman II to check on the missing number. It was the largest of the Sherman communities, covering fifty blocks of commercial buildings. He parked in the outskirts and took a job. Sure, everything has its ugly angles. But think—we get this house rent-free I've got my own district with no bosses around It was on a dingy sidestreet, reminiscent of past centuries, a street of small bars and bowling alleys and cigar stores. There was even a "And what can I do? You know how the Federation handles employment. I make my you'll meet lots of people that stop in at the pound. It's a fine job, honey!" liked babies. And because I have a B.S. in biology and an aptitude for dealing with people. Can't you understand? Destroying unclaimed units is the smallest part of it. Honey, before the evolvotron, before Anthropos went into the mutant-animal business, people used to elect dogcatchers. Think of it that way—I'm just a than the neutroids. A K-108 could speak a dozen words, and a K-99 house. The honeymoon was over, all right. He climbed in the kennel-truck and drove east toward the highway. The suburban street wound among the pastel plasticoid cottages that were set approximately two to an acre on the lightly wooded land. With its population legally fixed at three hundred million, most of the country had become one big suburb, dotted with community centers and lined with narrow belts of industrial development. Norris wished there were someplace where he could be completely alone. As he approached an intersection, he saw a small animal sitting on the stuttering high-pitched wail, then: "Kiyi Rorry." "Whose child are you, Rorry?" he asked. "Where do you live?" The cat-Q-5 took its time about answering. There were no houses near of their own, could get quite attached to a cat-Q-5. The felines were emotionally safer than the quasi-human chimp-K series called but most couples could endure the death of a cat-Q or a dog-F. Class-C His grin faded as he wondered which Anne would choose. The Norrises were class-C—defective heredity. He found himself in Sherman III Community Center—eight blocks of commercial buildings, serving the surrounding suburbs. He stopped at project within seven days. C. Franklin Norris frowned at the last sentence. His district covered about two hundred square miles. Its replacement-quota of new neutroids was around three hundred animals a month. He tried to estimate how many of July's influx had been K-99s from Bermuda Factory. Forty, at least. Could he do it in a week? And there were only eleven empty neutroid cages in his kennel. The other forty-nine were occupied by the previous inspector's "unclaimed" inventory—awaiting destruction. dying. Eighteenth order virus." "So?" "Well, she's—uh—rather a good things about the have to be killed. addresses of individual buyers. By three o'clock, he had the entire list filled out, and the task began to look easier. All that remained that , he thought, was like trying to take a year-old baby away from its doting mother. He sighed and drove to the Wylo suburbs to begin his rounds. Anne met him at the door when he came home at six. He stood on the own hours "Cooperation. I'm mailing you three letters charging three Wylo sidewalk escalator toward O'Reilley's address. "Not too hard. Those were just three out of fifteen. I got the other twelve. They're in the truck." "That's good," she said. "You've got only twelve empty cages." He neglected to tell her that he had stopped at twelve for just this all about work." They went out to the kennels together. The cages were inside a sprawling concrete barn, which was divided into three large rooms—one for the fragile neuter humanoid creatures, and another for the lesser mutants, such as cat-Qs, dog-Fs, dwarf bears, and foot-high lambs that The doll-like neutroids began their mindless chatter as soon as their keepers entered the building. Dozens of blazing blond heads began dancing about their cages. Their bodies thwacked against the wire mesh Their human appearance was broken by only two distinct features: short beaverlike tails decorated with fluffy curls of fur, and an erect they appeared completely human, with baby-pink skin, quick little smiles, and cherubic faces. They were sexually neuter and never grew beyond a predetermined age-set which varied for each series. Age-sets were available from one to ten years human equivalent. Once a neutroid " Apple cores! gene structure with sub-atomic particles. It's tricky business. He flashes a huge enlargement of the ovum on the electron microscope screen—large enough so he can see the individual protein molecules. He has an artificial gene pattern to compare it with. It's like shooting structure and displace certain links by just the right amount. And had a couple of flaws—something wrong in the central nervous system's That keeps ovaries from developing and it comes out neuter. But they all look "It belongs to somebody else. If it fixes a libido attachment on you, you're actually robbing its owner. They can't love many people at once." you—want one—for yourself? I can sign an unclaimed one over to you to keep in the house. It won't cost us anything." Slowly she shook her head, and her pale eyes went moody and luminous. "I'm going to have one of my own," she said. both our families. Well, I don't care, Terry. I'm not going to waste a heart over one of these pathetic little artificial animals. We're going to have a baby." "You know what they'd do to us?" "If they catch us, yes—compulsory divorce, sterilization. But they won't catch us. I'll have it at home, Terry. Not even a doctor. We'll hide it." Norris frowned with bewilderment as the scene shifted to a two-story plasticoid house among the elm trees. It was after dark, but the mobile unit's powerful floodlights made daylight of the house and its yard and has no baby . Just a minute—just a long-time residents was obvious. Society manufactured them because killing them was became glutted. The neutroids offered solace to childless women, kept them satisfied with a restricted birth rate. And why a restricted birth rate? Because by keeping the population at five billions, the Federation could insure a decent living standard for everybody. Where there was giving, Norris thought glumly, there was also taking he created nothing. He thought that he had created—with his medical science and his end to wars—a longer life for the individual. But he found that he had only taken the lives of the unborn and added them to the years of the aged. Man now had a life expectancy of eighty, except that he had damn little chance of being born to enjoy it. A neutroid filled the cradle in his stead. A neutroid that never ate as much, or grew up to be unemployed. A neutroid could be killed if

<question>:
How have increasingly longer life spans impacted Federation society?

<options>:
A The population is tightly controlled to prevent scarcity.
B Mutant animals have been created to satisfy the parental desires of childless couples.
C Life expectancy has increased to 80.
D The whole country has become a giant suburb, with two houses on every acre.

<answer>:

A