Answer To: Basic Ciphers and Frequency Analysis Basic Ciphers and Frequency Analysis Assignment 1 Due...
Sandeep Kumar answered on May 04 2021
Assignment 1.docx
Assignment 1
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“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” — Roald Dahl
“LOP LMWFQ LZZ GLCNT GUCT SZUCCQAUOS QJQB CTQ GTWZQ GWAZP LAWEOP JWE MQNLEBQ CTQ SAQLCQBC BQNAQCB LAQ LZGLJB TUPPQO UO CTQ HWBC EOZUXQZJ DZLNQB CTWBQ GTW PWOC MQZUQFQ UO HLSUN GUZZ OQFQA RUOP UC” - AWLZP PLTZ
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“Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.” — Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanack
“AOYLL THF RLLW H ZLJYLA, PM ADV VM AOLT HYL KLHK.” — ILUQHTPU MYHURSPU, WVVY YPJOHYK’Z HSTHUHJR
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“YV MU SEKBT HUQT JXU IUSHUJ XYIJEHO EV EKH UDUCYUI, MU IXEKBT VYDT YD UQSX CQD’I BYVU IEHHEM QDT IKVVUHYDW UDEKWX JE TYIQHC QBB XEIJYBYJO.” - XUDHO MQTIMEHJX BEDWVUBBEM, THYVJMEET”
If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.” - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Driftwood
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Secrets – rzpmzwr
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One moment he was piloting a fast plane over dangerous green jungles ... and the next Eddie was wide awake and peering through the gloom. Across the room Rags was whining softly and sniffing the damp night air that rolled in through the open window. The Scotty was excited, Eddie saw, and it must be something out of the ordinary for Rags' whimpering carried an undercurrent of perplexity and fear ... and the dog wasn't a coward.
The boy called softly to him, but Rags, after tossing back a swift glance of recognition, put his forefeet up on the sill and peered, muttering, out across the pastures.
Eddie slipped from his bed and padded over to the window. As he comfortingly ruffed the fur behind the Scottie's ears, he listened intently at the night. At first he heard only the ordinary country sounds—roosters crowing over at the next farm, the muffled thumping of stock shifting about in the barn and against the corral fence; the flittering and high chirping of birds in the cottonwoods and pepper trees. He took the dog in his arms and was about to go back to bed with him when he became aware of a sound that was very much out of the ordinary. A sound, Eddie decided, something like standing outside the Baptist church in Riverside when the organist was playing low, vibrant notes inside. Eddie wondered how he could have first missed the sound, so firmly had it now become established. Where could it be coming from? It was, he guessed, about an hour till dawn, and no tractors or other farm machinery should be running. And it wasn't a radio.
A plane?
Leaning from the window he glanced upwards, then gasped in astonishment. Goose pimples of excitement tingled his skin, for there in the sky, above the oak tree on the ridge hung a pattern of sharp white lights. They were little lights, as if someone had strung together a fanciful arrangement of Christmas tree bulbs, then sent them dangling aloft beneath a kite.
Rags' mutterings became deep and angry. Finally he gave vent to a short sharp bark.
Instantly Eddie quieted the dog. Lights or not, his mother had made it plenty clear about Rags' being in the house.
Crouching on the floor, both arms about Rags, Eddie whispered words of reassurance while he stared up at the strange sparklings. The oak tree—the one with his tree house—was a scant quarter mile from where he knelt, and he wondered if its being so high on the ridge had caused it to draw some sort of lightning to itself. He'd read of that happening ... chain lightning. Or was it called Fox Fire? Eddie couldn't remember. Anyway, it looked something like that, he imagined.
But no lightning, he remembered, made a noise like a machine. Unconsciously, he'd hooked sight and sound together.
Frowning, Eddie let go of the dog. If the lights had been over the barn or garage, he'd have gone to tell his father. Or over the garden, his mother. But the tree house didn't concern them. It was his, and even if it hadn't been an hour before dawn he wouldn't have told his parents. He had things in there he shouldn't have, and it wouldn't do for either mother or father to go snooping around, even if they couldn't find his secret ladder and climb it.
He returned to the window.
Something thrashed in the highest branches of the oak. Rags began his whining again.
There was but one thing to do. He found his moccasins by the night table and pulled them on, threw a leather jacket on over his pajamas. From the wall above his desk, Eddie took down his .22, broke it, slipped in a shell, and tiptoed from the house.
The humming was stronger outside. Not louder, exactly, but more easy to feel. He crouched down, the way he'd seen commandos do in pictures, and began to run, holding the rifle at ready before him. And for once, Rags seemed content to stay at his side and not go dashing along ahead up the path. As they took the turn by the big rock...