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

<passage>:
... and it comes out here By LESTER DEL REY Illustrated by DON SIBLEY like him. But it's a longish story, and you might as well let me in. You will, you know, so why quibble about it? At least, you always have ... or do ... or will. I don't know, verbs get all mixed up. We Anyhow, you'll let me in. I did, so you will. Thanks. You think you're crazy, of course, but you'll find out you how you feel I felt the same way when he—that is, of course, I or we—came back to tell me about it, thirty years ago. Right now, you're shocked. It's a real wrench when a man meets himself for the first time. Some kind of telepathy seems to work between two of the same people. You sense things. So I'll simply go ahead talking for half an hour or so, until you get over it. After that you'll come along with me. You know, I could try to change things around by telling but he—I—told me what I was going to do, so I might as well do the same. I probably couldn't help telling you the same thing in the same words, even if I tried—and I don't intend to there . You are completely outside of time and space, as best you can guess how things are. You can't feel any motion, of course. You try to reach a hand out Then you feel silly, because you'll remember that I said you'd ask that. Well, I asked it after I was told, then I came back and told it to you, and I still can't help answering when you speak. "Not exactly," I try to explain. "Maybe it's no dimension—or it might be the fifth the machine and I don't understand it." "But...." I let it go, and so do you. If you don't, it's a good way of going for us to imagine it. When you spend thirty years thinking about it, as I did—and you will—you get further and further from an answer. think about that then, either. I'm smoking, and so are you, and the air in the machine is getting a open, yet you haven't seen any effects of air loss. "Where are we getting our air?" you ask. "Or why don't we lose it?" "No place for it to go," I explain. There isn't. Out there is neither time nor space, apparently. How could the air leak out? You still feel feel a dankish sort of air replace the stale air, and you breathe easier, though we're in complete darkness, except for the weak light in the machine, which always burns, and a few feet of rough dirty cement I'd told you that, too, but you've forgotten. "As near as I can guess, it's about 2150. He told me, just as I'm telling you, that it's an future. Then the door opens, and the elevator says "first" back at us. grab the motor, and get out. And good luck to you." You act as if you're dreaming, though you can't believe it's a dream. You nod at me and I move out into the main corridor. A second later, You get up your courage and go up to a boy selling something that might "Where can I find the Museum of Science?" "Downayer rien turn lefa the sign. Stoo bloss," he tells you. Around you, you hear some pretty normal English, but there are others using stuff as garbled as his. The educated and uneducated? I don't know. You go right until you find a big sign built into the rubbery surface of the walk: in his suit and the friendly grin on his face, he looks like any other guard. What's more, he speaks pretty clearly. Everyone says things in a sort of drawl, with softer vowels and slurred consonants, but it's rather pleasant. "Help you, sir? Oh, of course. You must be playing in 'Atoms and He beams at that. "Of course." The gate is swung to behind you, but obviously he isn't locking it. In fact, there doesn't seem to be a lock. "Must be a new part. You go down that corridor, up one flight them to check his latest theory of how they work. Too bad he could not explain the principle, either. Someone will, some day, though. Lord, the genius of that twentieth century inventor! It's quite a Oh—congratulations on your pronunciation. Sounds just like some of our oldest tapes." You get away from him, finally, after some polite thanks. The building but with variations, probably depending on the power output. A big sign on the ceiling gives a lot of dope on atomic generators, explaining You study it, but it mentions casually the inventor, without giving his name. Either they don't know it, or they take it for granted that everyone does, which seems more probable. They call attention to the the cathogrids and we had to replace that, but otherwise it's exactly as the great inventor made it. And it still operates as well as ever. Like to have me tell you about it?" "Not particularly," you begin, and then realize bad manners might be conspicuous here. While you're searching for an answer, the guard pulls if you'd stop drinking so much of that scotch and staring at the time machine out there now, you'd hear what I'm saying and know what will happen to you. But of course, just as I did, you're going to miss a lot of what I say from now on, and have to find out for yourself. But maybe some of it helps. I've tried to remember how much I remembered, after he told me, but I can't be sure. So I'll keep on talking. I probably can't help it, anyhow. Pre-set, you might say. Well, you stagger down the corridor, looking out for the guard, but all seems clear. Then you hear his voice from the weapons room. You bend down and try to scurry past, but you know you're in full view. Nothing happens, though. Something goes over your head and drops on the sidewalk just in front of your feet, with a sudden ringing sound. You don't wait to find out dart past. seeming to come out of the sockets, and that atomic generator getting heavier at every step. before you. And he is. He stands just inside the door of the building as you reach to satisfy your amiable guard friend. He finally smiles in satisfaction gulping out something about going all the way down, and then wonder how a machine geared for voice operation can make anything of that. What You'll never know what the shouting was about—whether they finally doped out the fact that they'd been robbed, or whether they were trying to help you. You don't care which it is. The field springs up around been used so far—sends you off into nothingness. There is no beam of light, you can't hear a thing, and you're safe. It isn't much of a trip back. You sit there smoking and letting your You'll figure out the cycle in more details later. You get into the machine in front of your house, go to the future in the sub-basement, And with the controls set at 120 volts, 60 cycles and 15 amperes, you get just that. You don't need the power company any more. And you feel a little happier when you realize that the luggage space wasn't put in the museum with you as the inventor so you can steal it to be But you're thinking of the puzzle. You can't find any answer. One day you come across an old poem—something about some folks that's waiting in the building you had put around it. Then you'll be knocking on your own door, thirty years back—or right now, from your view—and telling your younger self all these things I'm telling you. But now.... came looking for you and shouting, before the time machine left.

<question>:
Why was futuristic Jerome so sure that past Jerome would invite him inside?

<options>:
A Because he himself had done so already.
B Because he can see into the future.
C Because he knows that his decisions have been altered by the machine.
D Because he can hear the inner thoughts of his mind

<answer>:

A