General
New Member
Today, the General wrangled with a Sphinx. The natives proclaimed it a simple black and white cat, might have even named it Oreo. The illusion was dispelled, no matter how alluring it once may have been: it was a car, communicating on occasion in that secret dialect of Morse code that only cars know; it was a woman, gyrating in a sequence of motions that only invisible, but not really, Tom knows; it was a book, written in a type of print that only a defunct company knows. In that beast was a cypher. The General followed the clue.
