Counting two ways
Named by 43 essays across 8 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Every square is a stack of odd numbers
Add up the odd numbers in order and the running totals are 1, 4, 9, 16, 25. This is not a coincidence, and the reason fits in a single picture.
The primes are what is left over
Eratosthenes' sieve does not find the primes. It removes everything else, one prime at a time, and whatever survives is prime by default — which is a strange way to reach the most studied objects in arithmetic.
Every fraction, exactly once
Take two fractions, add the tops and add the bottoms. That is not how fractions are added, it is not an average, and repeating it produces every positive rational exactly once, already in lowest terms.
One way to factor, and no other
Every number breaks into primes in exactly one way. That is so familiar it is hard to see as a claim at all — until it is put beside an arithmetic where it is false, and where six has two different factorisations that cannot be reconciled.
The shape of a number's divisors
Lay a number's divisors out as a lattice with one axis per prime, and two of the most useful facts in arithmetic stop being formulas and become the width and the corner of a rectangle.
Numbers that are their own parts
Six is one plus two plus three. Twenty-eight is one plus two plus four plus seven plus fourteen. Euclid explained where such numbers come from; Euler proved there are no others of that kind; and whether an odd one exists has been open for two thousand years.
Two squares, and a lattice
Whether a prime is the sum of two squares is decided entirely by its remainder on division by four. A fact about circles is settled by a fact about remainders, and neither statement contains any hint of the other.
Necklaces that prove a theorem
Thread five beads in two colours, thirty-two ways. Two of them are all one colour; the other thirty fall into rings of five. That count, and nothing else, is Fermat's little theorem.
Two dials at once
Watch one number on two clocks with different faces. If the faces share no factor, every pair of readings occurs exactly once — so two remainders name a number, and a hard calculation can be split into two easy ones.
Counting one rectangle, twice
Whether seven is a square modulo eleven, and whether eleven is a square modulo seven, are two unrelated-looking questions. Their answers are linked, and the link is a rectangle of dots counted along its rows and then along its columns.
The square that cannot shrink
The usual proof that the square root of two is irrational is about even and odd numbers. There is a proof about squares instead, in which a supposed solution is folded into a smaller one — and the folding is a drawing.
A diagram turned on its side
Write a partition as rows of dots, then read the columns instead. Every theorem in this essay is that one move, and the move proves things that no formula suggests.
Colourings nobody can tell apart
Sixteen ways to colour four corners in two colours, and only six of them are genuinely different. The count can be got by pooling the sixteen — or by never forming a single class and instead averaging how many colourings each motion leaves untouched.
Nobody gets their own hat
Hand back a pile of hats at random and ask for the chance that not one person gets their own. The answer barely moves as the crowd grows — it is a third and a bit at four people, and a third and a bit at four thousand.
A polynomial that counts
Hang a counting sequence on the powers of a variable and the two ways of combining choices — this and that, this or that — become multiplication and addition, so a recursion turns into an equation and the equation can be solved.
A determinant that counts trees
Write down a graph's Laplacian, strike out one row and its column, take the determinant. The answer is the number of spanning trees — and the minus signs in the determinant are what cancel every subset of edges that is not one.
Every partition, hidden in a product
Multiply out one factor for each part size and the coefficient of q to the n is the number of partitions of n. Nothing is being approximated: the product is a bookkeeping device that does the counting by multiplying.
The terms that cancel almost everything
Multiply out the product of 1 − q, 1 − q², 1 − q³ and so on, and nearly every coefficient is zero. What survives is a single plus or minus one at 1, 2, 5, 7, 12, 15 — and the reason is a way of pairing partitions off so that each pair cancels.
Everybody's share of the chains
There are twenty-four ways to build a four-element set one element at a time. Every subset lies on some of them, and no two incomparable subsets share one — so an antichain is a set of disjoint shares of a single whole.
The largest family that always meets
Change the question from "no two comparable" to "every two share an element" and the answer changes shape. The best antichain is a whole layer; the best intersecting family is a star, and the proof is a circle.
The two supplements, and where the eight comes from
The main law relates two odd primes to each other and says nothing about −1 or about 2. Those two are settled separately, by their own counts, and the answers arrive modulo four and modulo eight — which is a clue about where the whole subject is really taking place.
The symbol is the sign of a shuffle
Multiplying every residue modulo p by a fixed number rearranges them. That rearrangement is a permutation, permutations have a sign, and the sign is exactly the Legendre symbol — so a question about squares becomes a question about crossings.
Counting the paths that go wrong
The number of good paths across a grid has no obvious formula. The number of bad ones does, because every bad path can be reflected into a path to a different corner, and that reflection is a perfect matching between two sets nobody chose to relate.
One word, and four objects
A balanced string of brackets, a lattice path, a triangulated polygon and a binary tree are four different-looking things counted by the same numbers. They are not four things that happen to agree — each is a way of writing the others down, and the translation is mechanical.
The theorem that has no version in space
A lattice polygon's area is decided completely by two counts of dots. The obvious guess is that a lattice solid's volume is decided by the same two counts in three dimensions, and there is a family of tetrahedra with identical counts and every volume that says otherwise.
Almost every number comes down
The Collatz conjecture is open and a great deal about it is not. Whether a number falls below its own start in the first few steps is decided entirely by its remainder on division by a power of two, and the share of numbers for which it happens can be counted exactly.
The test that ranks the generators
Every linear generator's output lies on a family of parallel planes. Which generator is better is decided by how far apart those planes are, and that distance is the length of the shortest whole-number vector the modulus annihilates — a quantity that can be computed exactly rather than estimated by testing.
Finding a threshold with two moments
Every monotone property of a random graph has a threshold, and locating one is nearly always the same two calculations — count what the property needs, and check the count does not concentrate on rare cases. The triangle is where the method is cleanest.
The run that lands one place along
Add up a run of entries down one of Pascal's diagonals and the total is another entry of the triangle — one row further down and one place along. The same triangle holds four more sums of that kind, and each is a different question answered by the same additive rule.
Every entry counts the routes to it
Turn Pascal's triangle forty-five degrees and it becomes a grid of street corners, with each entry counting the ways of walking there. Identities between the entries then become statements about routes, and the statements are proved by cutting the routes in one place.
Every rational in one sequence
The tree lists every positive fraction once and needs a tree to do it. One recursion on the whole numbers lists them in a single row — and each term of it counts something nobody was asking about, which is why the enumeration works.
The product that deals the labels
Multiplying two counting series pairs one choice with another. When the things being counted carry labels, the labels have to be dealt out as well, and the only series that survive the extra bookkeeping are the ones divided by n factorial.
The coefficient that is a polynomial
Add a second variable to track a statistic and each coefficient stops being a number. Set the new variable to one and the old count comes back untouched; leave it in and the mean of the statistic is a derivative rather than an average.
One residue whose powers are all of them
Fermat's theorem says every order divides p − 1. It does not say that anything has order exactly p − 1, which is a separate and stronger claim — and what forces it is a count of how many numbers share each divisor with p − 1.
The exponent that is smaller than Euler's
Euler's theorem raises every unit to the count of the units and gets one. The smallest exponent that works for all of them at once is often much smaller — and a composite is invisible to Fermat's test exactly when that smaller number divides n − 1.
Counted across and counted down
A rectangular array has a number of independent rows and a number of independent columns. The two are counted in different spaces, from different objects, by computations that share nothing — and they are always the same number, which is why 'rank' is one word.
Three triangular numbers, and no fewer
On 10 July 1796 Gauss wrote in his diary: ΕΥΡΗΚΑ — num = Δ + Δ + Δ. Every whole number is a sum of three triangular numbers. Two are not enough, and not by a little: the numbers that are sums of two thin out to a share of nought. Both facts are statements about squares in disguise, and one picture translates them.
The people every stable answer leaves out
Let the lists be short and let one side take several partners. Stable matchings still exist and there can be many of them — but every one leaves out exactly the same people, and a member who is left with an empty place holds exactly the same partners in every one. A three-line count proves it.
The densest graph without a square
Forbid four points joined in a cycle and a graph can keep only about ½n^(3/2) of its edges — far fewer than the quarter of all pairs a triangle-free graph keeps. Counting pairs of neighbours proves the ceiling in two lines. What reaches it is not a random graph but a finite geometry: the points of a projective plane, joined when they are orthogonal.
Three ordinary lines from a count
Kelly's proof finds one line through exactly two of the points by minimising a distance. Melchior, seven years earlier, had found three — by turning every point into a line and counting the corners, edges and regions of the picture that results. Euler's formula for the projective plane does the rest, and it says exactly which configurations have no more than three.
The cells a permutation must miss
A derangement is a permutation that misses the diagonal of a square grid. Forbid any other set of cells instead and inclusion–exclusion still counts what is left — driven entirely by one list of numbers, the ways to place non-attacking rooks on the forbidden cells. Boards that look nothing alike can share that list, and rooks on a staircase turn out to count the ways to split a set.
A round table with no couple together
Seat n couples round a table, men and women alternating, so that nobody sits beside their partner. Once the women are placed the men face a board of forbidden cells that bends round a corner — and that corner is the whole difficulty. The forbidden cells form a cycle, a count of non-adjacent points on a cycle finishes the problem, and the chance of a good seating creeps towards e^(−2) far more slowly than the hat problem reaches 1/e.
Two counts that agree for no visible reason
Write 10 as a sum of whole numbers that differ from each other by at least two, and there are six ways. Write 10 as a sum of numbers that each leave 1 or 4 on division by 5, and there are six ways. The same happens for 20 (thirty-one each), for 40 (three hundred and seventy-four each), for every number anyone has checked and every number there is. The two lists look nothing alike, and no one has found a simple way to turn one into the other.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
BijectionModular arithmeticPrimesBinomial coefficientGenerating functionRecursionLatticePartitionPermutationCounting argumentCyclic groupParity