Doctor Universe

I grinned. "All complete, I'll bet, with threats against the universe and beautiful Earth heroines dragged in by the hair."

"What else is there in science fiction?" she demanded. "You can't have your hero fall in love with a bug-eyed monster."

Up on the wall a clock chimed the hour. The old woman jerked to her feet.

"I almost forgot, Billy-boy. I'm due at the Satellite Theater in ten minutes. Come on, you're going with me."

Before I realized it, I was following her through the lounge and out to the jetty front. Grannie Annie hailed a hydrocar. Five minutes later we drew up before the big doors of the Satellite.

They don't go in for style in Swamp City. A theater to the grizzled colonials on this side of the planet meant a shack on stilts over the muck, zilcon wood seats and dingy atobide lamps. But the place was packed with miners, freight-crew-men--all the tide and wash of humanity that made Swamp City the frontier post it is.

As we strode down the aisle a mangy-looking Venusian began to pound a tinpan piano in the pit. Grannie Annie pushed me into a seat in the front row.

"Sit here," she said. "I'm sorry about all this rush, but I'm one of the players in this shindig. As soon as the show is over, we'll go somewhere and talk." She minced lightly down the aisle, climbed the stage steps and disappeared in the wings.

"That damned fossilized dynamo," I muttered. "She'll be the death of me yet."

The piano struck a chord in G, and the curtain went rattling up. On the stage four Earthmen, two Martians, two Venusians, and one Mercurian sat on an upraised dais. That is to say, eight of them sat. The Mercurian, a huge lump of granite-like flesh, sprawled there, palpably uncomfortable. On the right were nine visi sets, each with its new improved pantascope panel and switchboard. Before each set stood an Earthman operator.

"People of Swamp City," he said, bowing, "permit me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Universe, and these are my nine experts."

There was a roar of applause from the Satellite audience. When it had subsided, the man continued:

"As most of you are familiar with our program, it will be unnecessary to give any advance explanation. I will only say that on this stage are nine visi sets, each tuned to one of the nine planets. At transmitting sets all over these planets listeners will appear and voice questions. These questions, my nine experts will endeavor to answer. For every question missed, the sender will receive a check for one thousand planetoles.

"One thing more. As usual we have with us a guest star who will match her wits with the experts. May I present that renowned writer of science fiction, Annabella C. Flowers."

From the left wing Grannie Annie appeared. She bowed and took her place on the dais.

The Doctor's program began. The operator of the Earth visi twisted his dials and nodded. Blue light flickered on the pantascope panel to coalesce slowly into the face of a red-haired man. Sharp and dear his voice echoed through the theater:

"_Who was the first Earthman to titter the sunward side of Mercury?_"

Doctor Universe nodded and turned to Grannie Annie who had raised her hand. She said quietly:

"Charles Zanner in the year 2012. In a specially constructed tracto-car."

And so it went. Questions from Mars, from Earth, from Saturn flowed in the visi sets. Isolated miners on Jupiter, dancers in swank Plutonian cafes strove to stump the experts. With Doctor Universe offering bantering side play, the experts gave their answers. When they failed, or when the Truthicator flashed a red light, he announced the name of the winner.