North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 584 584: 3312

Hearing this, Dean sighed softly in his heart. Little Mike truly lives up to his na; he's even guessed the key to the Catalytic Agent issue.

Little Mike had no idea Dean was entertaining various dangerous thoughts.

He touched the pendant around his neck and pressed it lightly. The chanical wheelchair parked nearby slowly turned and stopped beside Little Mike. Its chanical arms then extended rather precisely under Little Mike's armpits, lifting him and placing him onto the wheelchair.

Seeing this, Dean suppressed the tumultuous emotions in his heart, his eyes widening slightly. This advanced?

The background of this world is sowhat similar to my previous life, Dean mused. At least in terms of technological progress, apart from a slight advancent in networking, other aspects are mostly the sa.

In his previous life, he had seen machinery even more advanced than Little Mike's wheelchair. However, Little Mike's recent actions demonstrated not just the advanced chanical programming of the wheelchair, but the intelligence of its programs!

In my previous life, never mind 2001, even in 2019 when I died, this level of technology was considered cutting-edge R&D.

Considering Little Mike's pile of scrap tal can hardly be called cutting-edge... I suspect his network technology skills have already surpassed this era!

"These are so very simple applications of intelligent algorithms. The core algorithm could be sold for a bit of money. If you need it, I can make a copy for you," Little Mike said coolly, after taking a gulp of an energy drink he retrieved from the side of his wheelchair.

Dean shalessly nodded. "Yes, that would be helpful. I'm about to acquire a dical institution, and having exclusive intelligent machinery for drug production would make it more secure."

Oh well, Dean thought. Worst case, I'll just control the progress on the research machines I provide. The dangerous thoughts that had just surfaced in his mind dissipated once again.

This aspect of Little Mike is what makes him so indispensable. So generous. I'm willing to take so risks for this.

Little Mike touched his chest, over his heart. I don't know why. His heartbeat, which had quickened considerably just monts ago, had returned to normal.

He didn't dwell on it, just figuring it was his body acting up again, Little Mike thought. He then quickened his pace of speech. "Intelligent algorithm programs do provide significant assistance in this area. Actually, 'Intoxication,' the drug I developed earlier, is even better for making money. I've checked before; the faction that bought my formula easily makes..."

"Let's not talk about that for now. Back to the previous topic," Dean quickly interrupted.

Although he was a selfish, shaless man, he still had so moral bottom lines. Drugs were sothing he couldn't control others dealing with, nor would he ever touch them himself.

Isn't selling Speed a much better idea? Once Speed is on the market, the rate of profit won't be any lower than drug dealing, plus it's legal and legitimate. Buyers will even give a thumbs-up and thank in their hearts: 'May the kind boss live a long and peaceful life.'

Seeing Dean was unwilling to discuss the topic, Little Mike dropped it. Having regained so strength and energy, he gestured for Dean to pick up the glass case from the floor and accompany him to the small laboratory in the basent.

Upon arriving at the underground laboratory, Dean discovered that since his last visit, Little Mike had made so simple modifications. He had added rudintary robots, similar to his wheelchair and so workstations.

These robots resembled mobile workstations, equipped with chanical arms on casters. In fact, Little Mike had modified them from existing workstations because, without outside help, his physical condition wouldn't allow him to perform more complex operations.

"Command: Joy," Little Mike said to the few simple robots.

As he finished speaking, lights began to flicker on the simple robots.

"Voice activation?"

"Yes," Little Mike affird, then continued after catching his breath, "my algorithm program is highly adaptable. It can be integrated with various electronic machinery, including surveillance systems and voice recognition. If applied to aircraft, aerospace, scientific research, and the like, it would be imnsely helpful. So, if you decide to sell it, you mustn't reveal your identity, or it could beco very dangerous." He then turned to the simple robots and commanded, "Activate Laboratory One. Initiate backup power."

After receiving the command, the robots paused for three or four seconds before clumsily dividing the tasks among themselves and starting to work.

A mont later, the lights in the main area of the underground laboratory dimd, leaving only the room ahead of them illuminated. Simultaneously, the doors to Laboratory One were pushed open by two chanical hands, revealing a large LCD screen inside that was clearly pieced together from various parts.

"I've moved all the previous recognition LCDs here," Little Mike said as his wheelchair, under his control, moved into the small room. "It barely allows to perform multithreaded operations..."

The LCD screens flickered to life one by one, resembling multiple split-screen computer displays. Streams of green, unidentifiable program operations flowed across them like water, eventually resolving into a series of equations that Dean couldn't comprehend.

Little Mike stared unblinkingly at these equations. His gaze finally settled on the last few blank screens as he said indifferently, "After obtaining the research data from the Lucifer Organization's base, I cross-referenced their tens of thousands of experintal datasets, including their comparison data. I discovered that those fools overlooked a very critical factor."

He extended a small hand and tapped a few keys on the keyboard before him. Instantly, profiles of countless individuals in white attire densely populated the screens, replacing the complex formulas and appearing before them both.