 What is true about Doctor Universe?
Doctor Universe By CARL JACOBI Grannie Annie, who wrote science fiction under the nom de plume of Annabella C. Flowers, had stumbled onto a murderous plot more hair-raising than any she had ever concocted. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1944. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. ] I was killing an hour in the billiard room of the Spacemen's Club in Swamp City when the Venusian bellboy came and tapped me on the shoulder. "Beg pardon, thir," he said with his racial lisp, "thereth thome one to thee you in the main lounge." The Spacemen's was a sanctuary, a rest club where in-coming pilots and crewmen could relax before leaving for another voyage. The rule that no females could pass its portals was strictly enforced. There she stood before a frantically gesticulating desk clerk, leaning on her faded green umbrella. "Mithter Trenwith, if thith lady ith a friend of yourth, you'll have to take her away. Pure fiddle-faddle, that's what they are. To her publishers and her readers she might be Annabella C. Flowers, author of a long list of science fiction novels. But to me she was still Grannie Annie, as old-fashioned as last year's hat, as modern as an atomic motor. Her annual income totaled into six figures, and her publishers sat back and massaged their digits, watching their earnings mount. They may have been dime novels, but they weren't synthetic. If Annabella C. Flowers wrote a novel, and the locale was the desert of Mars, she packed her carpet bag and hopped a liner for Craterville. If she cooked up a feud between two expeditions on Callisto, she went to Callisto. "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?" 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. It read: ONE NIGHT ONLY DOCTOR UNIVERSE AND HIS NINE GENIUSES THE QUESTION PROGRAM OF THE SYSTEM As we strode down the aisle a mangy-looking Venusian began to pound a tinpan piano in the pit.
 His audience reacts so well to him because much of the population is under the influence of Green Flame.
 His audience reacts so well to him because much of the population is under the influence of Green Flame.  He knows about the whereabouts of Green Flame and is hiding it from Grannie Annie.  There is nothing of note to him. He is just a popular TV personaility.  He is using Green Flame himsel to influence his audience and force them to watch. He is the one who stole it.