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

<passage>:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Anybody who shunned a Cure needed his gleaming rod extended above his head about a foot, the wires from it Infield turned his soft blue eyes to the black and tan oxfords with the very thick rubber soles. "They might get soaked through." plate—steps or a manhole cover—what good would your lightning rod do Infield shrugged slightly. "I suppose a man must take some chances." Infield whirled and stalked to the desk. "That's the answer! The whole Morgan shifted his ponderous weight uneasily. "Now, Henry, it's no good to talk like that. We psychiatrists can't turn back the clock. There just aren't enough of us or enough time to give that old-fashioned therapy to all the sick people." Infield leaned on the desk and glared. "I called myself a psychiatrist once. But now I know we're semi-mechanics, semi-engineers, semi-inventors, semi lots of other things, but certainly not even a nuclear explosion. The foetic gyro ball was worn day and night, for he'll turn violently schizophrenic sooner or later—and you know it. The only cure we have for that is still a strait jacket, a padded cell "You're damned right!" Infield slammed the door behind him. The cool air of the street was a relief. Infield stepped into the main lightning rod, his face changing when he realized it must be some kind guy's got a lightning rod? You're grounding him! magnetic suction dart dropped away from Infield like a thing that had releasing and drawing all his darts into his belt, making it resemble a move he merely radiated narrowed eyes. "How long have you been Cured?" "Not—not long," Infield evaded. The other glanced around the street. He moistened his lips and spoke slowly. "Do you think you might be interested in joining a fraternal organization of the Cured?" Infield's pulse raced, trying to get ahead of his thoughts, and losing out. A chance to study a pseudo-culture of the "Cured" developed in isolation! "Yes, I think I might. I owe you a drink for helping me out. cleared his throat, noticing the affectation of it. "My name's Infield." Infield supposed it was a Cure, although he had never issued one like it. He didn't know if it would be good form to inquire what kind it was. "It's a cure for alcoholism," Price told him. "It runs a constant blood check to see that the alcohol level doesn't go over the sobriety limit." more interesting than what he was saying. "It drives a needle into my temple and kills me." The psychiatrist felt cold fury rising in him. The Cures were supposed to save lives, not endanger them. himself, Infield knew. The threat of death would keep him constantly shocked sane. Men hide in the comforts of insanity, but when faced with death, they are often forced back to reality. A man can't move his Infield looked up self-consciously and noticed that they had crossed Of course he didn't, Infield knew. Why should he? It was useless to hate his father for making him study. He didn't want him to die. He had to prove that. Infield sighed. At least this device kept the man on his feet, doing some kind of useful work instead of rotting in a padded cell with a Reggie went away. Price kept dissecting the tobacco and paper. Infield Cured," he said as a reminder. Price looked up, no longer interested in the relic of a cigarette. He was suddenly intensely interested and intensely observant of the rest Cured. Those lacking Cures—the Incompletes— must be dealt with ." Infield's throat went dry. "And you're the one to deal with them?" Doubly dangerous to Infield because, even though he was one of the few people who still read books from the old days of therapy to recognize visibly thinking that he shouldn't run that routine into the ground. "We'll Cure them whether they want to be Cured or not—for their own Infield felt cold inside. After a time, he found that the roaring was not just in his head. It was thundering outside. He was getting sick. Price was the type of man who could spread his ideas throughout the ranks of the Cured—if indeed the plot was not already universal, imposed upon many ill minds. He could picture an entirely Cured world and he didn't like the view. Every Cure cut down on the mental and physical abilities of the patient as it was, whether Morgan and the others admitted it or not. But if everyone had a crutch to lean on for one phobia, he would develop the hopeless. Enforced Cures would be a curse for the individual and the race. But Infield let himself relax. How could anyone force a mechanical and suave, draped clothes. In this den of the Cured, Infield thought half-humorously, it was surprising to see a Normal—an "Incomplete." Cure and eager to Cure others. Very eager." Cure is not even thought of—hypochondria. Hundreds of people come to your office for a Cure and you turn them away. Suppose you and the other Cured psychiatrists give everybody who comes to you a Cure?" Infield gestured vaguely. "A psychiatrist wouldn't hand out Cures unless they were absolutely necessary." "You'll feel differently after you've been Cured for a while yourself. Other psychiatrists have." Before Infield could speak, a stubble-faced, barrel-chested man moved Infield in the street. Infield hit the big man behind the ear. He dropped the bottle and fell "I'll do it if you cause more trouble." Infield sat down and rubbed his "No. No, you aren't." Infield felt an excitement pounding through him, same as when he had diagnosed his first case. No, better than that. different. I'd be a hopeless drunk without the Cure. Besides, no one ever gets rid of a Cure." the world as represented by these four Cured people. "I'm afraid I'm for less "I'll show you." He took off the circlet with the lightning rod and "Now," he said, "I am going out in that rain storm. There's thunder and lightning flashes, Reggie. Come on." books. He had had a latent fear of lightning when he chose the lightning rod Cure. He could have picked a safety belt or foetic gyro Infield looked up and saw the lightning reflected on the blade of a can't see the words!" It was his problem. Infield usually solved other people's problems, but now he ran away—he couldn't even solve his own. Infield realized that he had gone mad as he held the thin blade high He watched the lightning play its light on the blade of his Cure and he The lightning hit him first. "Mr. Morgan, your partner, Mr. Infield, he—" saying?" "Mr. Infield went out without his Cure in a storm and was struck by lightning. We took him to the morgue. He must have been crazy to go out without his Cure." Morgan stared into his bright desk light without blinking. "This is quite a shock to me. Would you mind leaving? I'll come over to your Reggie went out. "Yes, sir. He was struck by lightning, struck dead. He Morgan exhaled. Poor Infield. But it wasn't the lightning that killed The thunder, naturally, was what had killed Infield. Loud noise—any

<question>:
Why does Infield don a lightning rod at the beginning of the story?

<options>:
A He wants to infiltrate the fraternal club for the Cured in order to prevent Price's authoritarian rule, so he must blend in.
B It will protect him against lightning strikes and is meant as a Cure for his astraphobia.
C He wants to know what it feels like to be a Cured, and therefore he pretends to have a fear of thunder.
D He is tired of working as a psychiatrist at Infield & Morgan and wants to seek out new opportunities in the world of the Cured.

<answer>:

C