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 head examined—assuming he had one left! Henry Infield placed the insulated circlet on his head gently. The 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 plate—steps or a manhole cover—what good would your lightning rod do Infield whirled and stalked to the desk. "That's the answer! The whole cure anything. Eventually the savage dies—just as all those sick savages out in the street will die unless we can cure the disease, not only the indications." a nuclear explosion. The foetic gyro ball was worn day and night, for The sickness overcame him. He sat down on Morgan's desk. "That's just one thing, the gyro ball. There are so many others, so many." Morgan smiled. "You know, Henry, not all of our Cures are so—so—not with that insidious voice drumming in his head night and day, do you mean to say that man's senses will only be impaired 23 per cent? Why, 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 or one of those inhuman lobotomies." "You're damned right!" Infield slammed the door behind him. lightning rod, his face changing when he realized it must be some kind Suddenly something else was pushing against Infield, forcing the guy's got a lightning rod? You're grounding him! jabbed the button that sent a negative current through the cable. The 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 The young man's eyes almost seemed to narrow, although his face didn't move he merely radiated narrowed eyes. "How long have you been Cured?" "Not—not long," Infield evaded. 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 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." "What happens if you take one too many?" 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. "What kind of irresponsible idiot could have issued such a device?" he "I did," Price said. "I used to be a psychiatrist. I was always good in shop. This is a pretty effective mechanism, if I say so myself. It can't be removed without causing my death and it's indestructible. himself, Infield knew. The threat of death would keep him constantly 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 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 have them for generations, everyone who didn't have one developed a defense mechanism and an aberration so they would be normal. If that phobia isn't brought to the surface and Cured, it may arise any time 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 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 good." 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 secondary symptoms. People would start needing two Cures—perhaps a foetic gyro and a But Infield let himself relax. How could anyone force a mechanical relief for neurotic or psychopathic symptoms on someone who didn't want or need it? He's not an alcoholic. He didn't need to put that Cure on his head. It's just an excuse for not drinking. All of this is just because a mark of honor of the completely sane man. You should be proud of your 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?" 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 hit the big man behind the ear. He dropped the bottle and fell "I'm going to kill you," he said, glaring at Infield. "You made me fall Infield wasn't a large man, but he had pressed two hundred and fifty "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. "That taste of liquor didn't kill you, Price. Nothing terrible happened. You could find some way to get rid of that Cure." Price stared at him as if he were a padded-cell case. "That's different. I'd be a hopeless drunk without the Cure. Besides, no one ever gets rid of a Cure." "I'll show you." He took off the circlet with the lightning rod 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 just as well. excitement was all gone now and it left an empty space into which fear rushed. Infield looked up and saw the lightning reflected on the blade of a the knife fell into Infield's palm. The psychiatrist pulled himself It was his problem. Infield usually solved other people's problems, but Infield realized that he had gone mad as he held the thin blade high overhead, but he did need some kind of lightning rod. Price (who was right behind him, gaining) had been right. No one could discard a Cure. He watched the lightning play its light on the blade of his Cure and he knew that Price was going to kill him in the next moment. He was wrong. The lightning hit him first. "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 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 has Infield attached a lightning rod to his head?

<options>:
A He needs it in order to survive the elements
B He wants to go back to being an Incomplete
C He is conducting an experiment involving electricity
D He believes it has cured him of his fear

<answer>:

D