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

<passage>:
Craig looked them over quickly. "Oh, come now, Miss Wendel. There are women aboard spaceships. I'm not a starved wolf." "Certainly you are not, Mr. Craig. But it is not possible for me...." Craig handed him a battered punch card and watched the man insert it in The Galactic hotel strove to preserve an archaic tone of hospitality. It advertised "a night's lodgings" and it possessed a bellboy. The cards and forms to his room. Tired from the long, confusing day, Craig behind Craig fidgeted. bellboy actually carried Craig's plasticarton and large file of punch hotel carried so far as a small fee to be paid the bellboy, and he hoped he would have the right size of Terran units in his wallet. "You mean a microphone?" asked Craig, mechanically fishing for his wallet. A murmur greeted the order. Craig experienced the thrill of knowing the envy of the others. Grav 1—that meant Terra. He crossed the long, dreary room, knowing the eyes of the other men were upon him. entered. He nudged Craig wickedly. "You know what they're like?" "Yeah," Craig said disgustedly. Traffic in the illicit mental-image tapes was known as far into space as lonely men had penetrated. Intergalactic considered them as great a menace to mental and moral stability as the hectopiates. Craig wearily got the man out of the Craig moved in the direction indicated. He fought the irrational fear Craig obeyed the robot voice and began reluctantly to remove his flight jacket. Its incredibly fine-grained leather would carry none of the strange, foreign associations for the base station clerk who would Craig quickly removed the last of his clothing. It was impossible Craig obeyed and clenched his teeth against a sharp stinging. His respect for the robot-controlled equipment of bases had risen. When instructions, when a man appeared in the open doorway. "I am Captain Wyandotte," said the man in a pleasant voice. "Well, what's next?" asked Craig somewhat more belligerently than he had intended. The man smiled. "Your reaction is quite natural. You are somewhat about him. "We might say you've been away quite a while, eh?" "I was entered as a spaceman when I was 16," Craig said. "I've never been down for any period as yet." "You mean you haven't been in a gravity system?" conditioning." "Conditioning?" asked Craig. "Yes. You have spent eleven years in space. Your body is conditioned to experienced it briefly." "I expect to have some trouble at first." Craig was disturbed by the be pinned down to any specific condition the spaceman would find intolerable. Craig began to hate the delay that kept him from Terra. Through the ports of the headquarters base satellite, he scanned the constellations for the scores of worlds he had visited during his eleven years in moved so much as an inch. Craig heard the voices around him, muffled, as though talking through wadding. "I'm ... all right," Craig mumbled at the voices. He struggled with the bonds of his cot. With terrible effort he forced his eyes open. Two white-clad figures, ridiculously out of proportion, hovered wraithlike Only one of the score of men in the centrifuge tank remained voluntarily in his cot. "Space article violator," the old man informed Craig. "Psycho, I think. card and gave him a one-way ticket to Terra." "I'm going into Import. My father was in it for twenty years." "Sure," said the old spaceman, watching a group of young crewmen engaged in an animated conversation. "And spend your weekends on Luna." Craig half rose from his cot, jarred into anger. But the old spaceman turned, smiling wryly. "Don't get hot, kid. I guess I spent too long in Zone V." He paused to examine his wrinkled thinking anyone who stays closer'n eighty light years from Terra is a land-lubber." Craig relaxed, realizing he had acted childishly. "Used to think the same. Then I took the exam and got this job." "Whereabouts?" The old man looked up at Craig. "You don't know much about Terra, do you, son?" "Not much." But the spaceman seemed to have lost interest. He was unpacking some personal belongings from a kit. "What are you doing in Grav 1?" Craig asked. as the plastic melted into a single, seamless whole. It was ready for irradiation. Probably in another ten years his son-to-be would put it on and play spaceman. But Craig swore he'd make sure that the kid knew what a stinking life it was. Robert Craig. Report to Orderly 12. Report to Orderly 12 through the With pangs of anxiety he could not completely suppress, Craig obeyed. "Who's it from? Somebody on Terra?" "From a private spaceman named Morgan Brockman." " Brockman? "He was with you in the grav tank." "The old man!" The message container produced a battered punch card. Craig Craig put the battered card in his pocket and walked back through the had been a tramp spaceman. Well, why had Damn the old man! How did one explain? Craig descended the ramp from the huge jet and concentrated on his impressions. One day he would recall this moment, his first on the planet Terra. He tried to recall his first thrill at seeing Los Angeles, 1500 square miles of it, from the ship as it entered the atmosphere. "A moment, sir. Just a little greeting from the Terra. You understand, of course. Purely routine." Craig remained on the final step of the ramp, puzzled. The man turned to a companion at his right. "We can see that this gentleman has come from a long, long way off, can't we?" The other man did not look up. He was peering into what seemed to Craig Craig turned to face a line of his fellow passengers up the ramp behind him. "Who was that?" Craig asked. "Customs. Bet you never got such a smooth screening before, eh?" "You mean he Craig made his way toward the spaceport administration building. His first physical contact with Terra had passed unnoticed. "Sir! Sir!" cried a voice behind him. He wheeled to see a man walking briskly toward him. "You dropped this, sir. Quite by accident, of course." Craig examined the small object the man had given him before rushing "I see," said the man noncommittally. It seemed to Craig that he was seated uncomfortably in the silent room. There was a distracted quality about him, Craig thought. "You are the first man we have had from the Intergalactic Service," the personnel man said finally. "That so?" completing the sentence. "And also different." "I haven't been here very long," said Craig. "Matter of fact, I haven't been anywhere very long. This is my first real experience with life on a planet. As an adult, anyway." They exchanged formal greetings. She was a moderately pretty girl of medium height and, to Craig, a pleasantly rounded figure. He would have attempted to catch her eye had she not immediately occupied herself with unfolding the legs of a small instrument she was carrying. "This is Mr. Craig's first landing on Terra, Miss Wendel," the personnel man continued. "Actually, we shall have to consider him in much the same way we would an extraterrestrial." The girl glanced at Craig, casting him a cool, impersonal smile. "He was formerly a flight officer in the Intergalactic Space Service." The statement was delivered in an almost exaggeratedly casual tone. "Yes." The man laughed. "You'll excuse us, Mr. Craig. We realize that you couldn't be expected to be familiar with Terra's fashions. In your present outfit you would certainly be typed as a ... well, you'd be made uncomfortable." Craig reddened in spite of himself. He had bought the suit on Ghandii. "A hick," he supplied. "I wouldn't go that far, but some people might."

<question>:
Why did the man take Craig's picture when he arrived on Terra?

<options>:
A Terran society identifies and monitors everyone.
B The man is a customs official.
C The photo is for Craig's job ID.
D Craig is the first spaceman he had ever seen.

<answer>:

B