I'm in Conan, I'm not a gangster

Chapter 760 Denigrating Artificial Intelligence
Since time has suddenly jumped to daytime, we can save time from sleeping.

Conan sat up from the sofa and urged, "It's getting late. We need to hurry over to the Whitechapel and see if Moriarty has actually put up the notice as he said."

However, Shiraishi E said slowly and deliberately, "What's the rush? Since it's already morning, shouldn't we be experiencing an authentic London breakfast from 1888 according to the normal procedure? We can't be on an empty stomach while investigating a case."

Upon hearing this, Conan's face was filled with disbelief, and he blurted out, "Are you kidding me? In a virtual game where life and death are at stake, you're actually thinking about eating breakfast?"

Shiraishi raised an eyebrow and retorted in a matter-of-fact tone, "What's wrong with that? Since this game can even deceive our brain's perception, simulating pain and touch, why can't it also deceive our taste buds? Ultimate immersion, you know?"

These words were like a key, instantly opening another door to Conan's train of thought.

He paused for a moment, then stroked his chin thoughtfully, finally having to admit, "Uh... now that you mention it, it does seem... to make some sense!"

A strong sense of curiosity was piqued, and he wanted to taste for himself what a London breakfast tasted like more than a century ago.

Conan was about to go straight downstairs when he saw that Shiraishi E did not walk towards the door, but instead turned around and opened the heavy oak wardrobe in the corner of the room.

When the cabinet door was opened, it was not empty; instead, several sets of men's clothing that conformed to Victorian aesthetics were neatly hung inside.

"Oh? Not bad," Shiraishi E flipped through the pages with interest, her tone tinged with admiration. "The game's details are quite well done; they've even prepared outfits that fit this era for us. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Changing our clothes before breakfast will feel even better."

Conan, filled with curiosity, went over and was surprised to find that the wardrobe not only contained formal wear and coats prepared for "Sherlock Holmes," but also several exquisite little suits and vests with a children's style, clearly made to fit his size.

"Even mine is here?" he muttered, then was convinced by the powerful thought of "since I'm already here," "Alright, since I've already 'traveled' through time, I might as well go all the way."

A moment later, both of them were completely transformed.

Shiraishi E changed into a dark three-piece suit with a long woolen overcoat, making her look tall and slightly unruly.

Conan, on the other hand, wore a well-fitting plaid suit and a bow tie, looking like a typical Victorian-era young gentleman.

They straightened their clothes before calmly walking down the stairs.

The hospitable Mrs. Hudson had already prepared breakfast—a richly aromatic cup of black coffee, perfectly toasted bread, and several boiled eggs in a cup holder.

Conan, with a tentative feeling, took a bite of the toast spread with butter.

The next second, he opened his eyes wide in amazement: "It really...it really tastes! And the texture and aroma are so realistic! This virtual technology is simply amazing! If it could be applied to the real world, it would definitely be a groundbreaking invention!"

Shiraishi took an elegant sip of coffee, smiled, and said, "We are able to have such a realistic experience thanks to the real-time calculations and simulations of Noah's Ark, this super artificial intelligence."

"It almost reconstructs a world. Without its support... I bet the breakfast would taste like cardboard, and the surrounding scenery would become dull and lifeless."

Conan put down his coffee cup and nodded thoughtfully.

He understood that with the current level of human technology, it was already difficult to build a virtual reality framework, and it was impossible to achieve the level of immersion that was so realistic.

The incredibly realistic experience before their eyes, in a sense, stemmed from the "disruption" of Noah's Ark, which led them to experience an adventure that was no different from "time travel" by chance.

After enjoying this wonderful breakfast that transcends time, the two bid farewell to the kind Mrs. Hudson, pushed open the door, and stepped into the London streets awakened by the rising sun, heading towards the Whitechapel district.

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Leaving the relatively clean Baker neighborhood, the closer they got to Whitechapel, the more shocking the surroundings became. Having just crossed a narrow alley, Conan suddenly jumped back, nearly stepping into a puddle of filth. He couldn't hold back any longer, and in a low voice, he unleashed every expletive he could think of: "Shit! Fuck! OMG!! Is this still London? There's shit and pee everywhere?!"

He pinched his nose, his brow furrowed, looking at the human excrement, rotting food scraps, and other indescribable garbage scattered around the street corners and walls. He felt as if he had stumbled into a giant open-air toilet, rather than in a 19th-century city.

Shiraishi Eya, standing to the side, had already covered her mouth and nose with a handkerchief, her face full of undisguised disgust: "It's ridiculously dirty... The government of this era is really something, can't they allocate some money from tax revenue to hire more cleaners to sweep the streets?"

"I don't expect the entire city to be spotless, but at least the main roads shouldn't look like this."

After recovering from his initial shock, Conan scoffed with a sense of helplessness towards the historical reality, "You expect capitalist governments back then to voluntarily spend money on public health? Dream on!"

"In theory, the parishes and the Metropolitan Engineering Commission in London are indeed responsible for street cleaning, and they also hire their own cleaning teams."

"But the problem is that they pay extremely low wages and the workload is heavy. Expecting these people to clean the city spotless is simply a pipe dream."

Looking at the "minefield" where she had to carefully choose her footing, Shiraishi looked up at the sky speechlessly, as if shouting to the invisible creator: "Hey, I say, Noah's Ark, did it really have to be so realistic?"

"Hurry up and use your administrator privileges to clean up all this awful, pungent stuff! We don't need this kind of 'immersive experience'!!"

Only a gentle breeze blew through the air, carrying a real stench, and Noah's Ark did not respond.

Seeing that the AI ​​wasn't responding, Shiraishi tried a provocation, speaking into thin air: "Hey, you're not just trying to disgust us by throwing up this shit and pee nonsense because you can't handle us, are you? Don't you think that's beneath you? An AI that's decades ahead of its time, resorting to such underhanded tactics?"

Conan immediately understood and chimed in, perfectly joining the charade: "Yeah, if word got out, what would people say? 'Look, that AI called Noah's Ark can't take a loss. It can't win a straight fight, so it resorts to some dirty tricks to get back at them'... Tsk tsk, its reputation would be ruined."

The two exchanged barbs, relentlessly mocking each other, their words firing like a machine gun at their invisible adversary.

Noah's Ark was not a truly cold and ruthless program; it inherited the emotions and will of its creator, Hiroki Sawada.

Being so "slandered" by two humans, its simulated "emotional core" felt an indescribable sense of shame and embarrassment.

Almost immediately, Shiraishi E and Conan felt that the surrounding light seemed to have subtly brightened.

To their astonishment, the filth on the road ahead was disappearing at a visible speed, as if swept away instantly by an invisible cleaning crew, and even the nauseating stench in the air was quickly replaced by normal, slightly damp London air.

"Phew—that's more like it!" Shiraishi E took a deep breath of the no longer polluted air, feeling her lungs much clearer. "Breathing feels so much better now!"

Conan nodded in satisfaction, looking at the much cleaner streets, and then gave him a sweet treat: "That's more like it. Being able to admit your mistakes and correct them shows that your artificial intelligence still has a lot of potential."

Having resolved the environmental crisis, the two walked briskly to the Whitechapel district and quickly found the bulletin board used for posting various notices.

Among a pile of yellowed papers, a notice with fresh ink caught their attention.

The two stared at the notice filled with English for a few seconds, as if triggering some kind of recognition mechanism. The letters on the notice seemed to come alive, slowly twisting and rearranging, eventually turning into the Japanese they were familiar with.

Conan's gaze swept quickly across the area, precisely capturing the key information. He muttered, "'Tonight, go clean the opera house. M's message to J'... M refers to Moriarty, and J is Jack the Ripper."

Emi Shiraishi succinctly translated the essence of the code: "The meaning is obvious: Jack the Ripper is to go to the opera house tonight to carry out a 'cleaning' mission—that is, to kill someone."

“In that case,” Conan looked up, his eyes sharpening, “the target location is clear. Let’s go to the opera house to scout out the situation beforehand.”

(End of this chapter)