question:  What is Doc's profession?
context: "Sure," the man agreed severely, prying a little worriedly at Doc's arthritic fingers that were clamped on his collar. I came alongside and carefully started to lever the old man loose, one finger at a time. If a half dozen winos in Seattle hadn't helped me get them loose, Doc and I would have been wanted for the murder of a North American Mountie. Doc's thin frame, layered with lumpy fat, was beginning to muscle-dance against my side. All my great-grandfathers have it. I told the human no, thanks, and walked Doc toward the flophouse three doors down. Doc was liable to say something that might nova Sol, for all I knew. It had happened a few times right after I first found him, but now it was worse. I tried not to think about it and helped Doc through the fly-specked flophouse doors. The tubercular clerk looked up from the gaudy comics sections of one of those little tabloids that have the funnies a week in advance. I laid Doc out on the gray-brown cot and put his forearm over his face to shield it some from the glare of the light bulb. I was bent double, but I got from the floor to the chair and found my notebook and orb-point in my hands. I found I couldn't focus both my mind and my eyes through the electric flashes of agony, so I concentrated on Doc's voice and trusted my hands would follow their habit pattern and construct the symbols for his words. They told everything I needed to know to become the most powerful man in the Solar Federation. When I got to thinking it was just a dream and that I was dragging this old man around North America for nothing, I remembered who he was. I remembered that he was somebody very important whose name and work I had once known, even if now I knew him only as Doc. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if they think you are blotto.
output:  Scientist
options:  Scientist  Addict  Book collector  Doctor