Algebra — page 4
Random roots crowd onto the circle
The roots of a random polynomial are not scattered across the plane. They gather within about 1/n of the unit circle, and their directions spread evenly round it. Paul Erdős and Pál Turán proved in 1950 that this is not a fact about randomness at all: any polynomial whose coefficients are all of roughly one size has roots whose directions are nearly even, and the inequality says exactly how nearly, in terms of nothing but the coefficients.
The shape a random ball grows into
Give every road of the square grid a random travel time and ask what can be reached from one point in time t. The region is ragged, and rescaled it converges to a fixed convex shape — but which shape is unknown for every natural law. Computing it shows a curve within a few per cent of a circle for continuous travel times, a flat side where fast roads percolate along a diagonal, a time per step that is still drifting at a hundred and twenty-eight steps, and fluctuations that grow like the distance to the power one third rather than one half.
Five-eighths of the pairs, and no more
Pick two symmetries of a square at random and do them in both orders: forty times in sixty-four the result is the same. No group that fails to commute does better. The reason is a count of pairs that turns into a count of conjugacy classes, and a two-line argument about the centre that caps the answer at five-eighths — reached by the square and the quaternions, approached from above by nothing, and approached from below by groups that commute a little more than half the time.
How rarely a walk on a group comes home
Walk at random on the picture of a group, one generator at a time, and ask for the chance of standing at the start after 2n steps. On the line, the plane and three-dimensional space it falls like a power of n. On the tree that pictures the free group it falls by the factor √3/2 every step, exponentially. Kesten proved in 1959 that this is no accident of two examples: the chance falls exponentially exactly when the group's balls are mostly boundary, so a probabilistic rate and a geometric ratio are the same measurement.
The flattest polynomials of signs
A polynomial whose coefficients are all +1 or −1 has average size √n on the unit circle. Keeping it near √n everywhere is the problem Littlewood posed: the Rudin–Shapiro polynomials never exceed √2 times it, searching every sign pattern up to length 22 finds the best are the Barker sequences, and whether the maximum can come arbitrarily close to √n is still open.
The area of the Mandelbrot set, from two sides
The Mandelbrot set has an area, and nobody knows it. Counting grid cells closes in on 1.5066 from both sides, but every count judges a cell by a single point, and points on the boundary never declare themselves. An exact formula exists — π times one minus a sum over the coefficients of the map onto the set's outside — and every partial sum is a guaranteed upper bound; after sixteen thousand coefficients the bound is still 1.786, and at the rate it falls it would need something like 10²⁵ more.
The signs no completion can change
A quadratic in several variables can be completed square by square in many orders, and each order hands back different coefficients. What no order changes is how many come out positive and how many negative — and that count, read off a completion of A − tI, says how many eigenvalues lie below t without finding a single one.
Regression is a square completed halfway
A bell in two variables, sliced at a fixed x, is a bell in y — and completing the square in y alone says where it is centred: at ρx, on a line flatter than the ellipse's own axis. That gap is regression to the mean, and the same completion says it runs backwards in time just as well as forwards.
The quintics that have a formula
No formula solves every equation of degree five, and yet x⁵ − 2 is solved by a fifth root and x⁵ − 5x + 12 by a longer expression of the same kind. A quintic can be solved by radicals exactly when the symmetries of its roots fit inside one group of twenty — the maps x ↦ ax + b on the numbers modulo 5 — and two exact tests on its coefficients say whether they do.
Three real roots and no real radicals
The cubic x³ − 3x + 1 has three real roots, and Cardano's formula reaches every one of them by way of the cube roots of a complex number. That detour cannot be removed: Hölder proved in 1891 that no expression built from real radicals gives a root of an irreducible cubic whose roots are all real. The proof is three lines of the Galois correspondence, and its general form says that real radicals reach all-real roots only when square roots alone would.
Two random shuffles reach every shuffle
Pick two ways of rearranging n letters at random and allow them to be repeated in any order. Almost always the two together reach every rearrangement there is, or every even one — and when they fail, the usual reason is a coincidence about a single letter that both happen to leave alone. Eugen Netto guessed it in 1882 and John Dixon proved it in 1969.
Nineteen copies and no more
Two of the icosahedron's rotations, chosen at random, generate all sixty of them nineteen times in thirty. Philip Hall found the number in 1936 by inclusion and exclusion over every subgroup at once, weighted by the Möbius function of the subgroups' order — and the same count says that nineteen copies of the group, side by side, can still be generated by two elements, while twenty cannot.
Twenty-seven million cubics, sorted by their symmetry
Write down every cubic x³ + ax² + bx + c with coefficients up to 150 and sort each by its Galois group. 98.7% have all six symmetries of three roots. The rest are reducible at a rate of fifteen in every H², or cyclic at five in every H to the three-halves — and the cyclic ones turn up four times as often as chance would allow, because discriminants are not random numbers.
The quartics whose roots stay paired
A quartic can have five different Galois groups, and in a box of nearly fourteen million quartics they do not come in order of size. The eight-element group D₄ outnumbers the twelve-element A₄ thirty-five to one. Every even quartic has a smaller group than S₄, and moving one step off that plane restores the full group almost everywhere.
The fraction written on every bulb
Round the edge of the Mandelbrot set's cardioid hangs one bulb for every fraction between nought and one. The fraction is the bulb's address, its period, and the turn its cycle makes round a fixed point, all at once, and it sets the bulb's size as well: sin(πp/q)/q², which 245 computed bulbs obey to within fourteen per cent.
Two rays for every fraction
Seen from far away, every point of the Mandelbrot set's outside has an angle, and the curves of constant angle come in to land on the set. At the root of the p/q bulb exactly two of them land, and their angles are written by the staircase under a line of slope p/q. The limbs those pairs fence off share out the whole circle of angles between them, by the identity Σ φ(q)/(2^q − 1) = 1.
Three coordinates and a fourth power
The Heisenberg group is made of triples of whole numbers, and two moves generate all of it. Count the triples within r moves of the start and the count grows like r⁴, not r³: at forty-four moves there are 1,600,703 of them, against 117,569 for the cubic lattice. The fourth power comes from one coordinate that the moves reach by enclosing area, so that height costs only the square root of itself — and seen from far away, the ball of reachable triples is a curved solid with a dimple at each pole.
The magic squares are a space
A magic square is a grid whose rows, columns and diagonals share one sum. The conditions are linear, so the squares form a space: three-dimensional for order three, eight-dimensional for order four, n² − 2n in general. Inside the space of order three the eight classical squares are eight points with coordinates ±1 and ±3. Of the 880 squares of order four, 640 are singular matrices, and the search finds the reason: a symmetry of the rows and columns that carries every number to the one it adds to seventeen with.
A rotation chosen at random
Turn a solid body to an orientation chosen at random and it has usually been turned a long way: on average 126.5 degrees, and by less than ten degrees only three times in ten thousand. Unit quaternions make the right meaning of 'at random' a picture, and two recipes that look fair fail it in opposite directions.
Eigenvalues that keep their distance
Fill a large symmetric matrix with independent random numbers and its eigenvalues do something no list of independent numbers does: they refuse to crowd together. The reason is a count of conditions in a two-by-two matrix, and its consequences — a semicircle, gaps that vanish at nought, a spectrum almost as rigid as a lattice — reach from heavy nuclei to the zeros of the zeta function.
Chords that never cross
Every component of the Mandelbrot set's interior has a root, and exactly two external rays land there, with angles that repeat under doubling. Which two can be found without drawing the set at all: list the angles of each period in order, and join each to the next one whose chord crosses no chord already drawn. The rule makes 63 pairs at period 7 and 2,010 at period 12, one for every component; traced into the plane, every pair's two rays end together, beside a centre of the right period and no other.
Holding one still turns the other over
A quantity can rise with an outcome and still predict it downwards once a second quantity is held fixed. Completing the square in two predictors says exactly when: the pair of correlations has to fall in a wedge whose angle is arcsin of the predictors' own correlation. Averaged over every possible correlation matrix the chance is exactly 1/4 − 1/π², about one coefficient in seven; two coefficients never reverse together, and with two dozen predictors almost two in five do.
The class number is a degree
The integers of ℚ(√−23) fall into three classes of ideals, and that 3 can be found by counting forms. It is also the degree of a single number: the modular function j, evaluated at the three forms' points, gives three values that are not whole but are the roots of one cubic with whole-number coefficients. When there is only one class, the value is a whole number outright — and that is why e^(π√163) misses being whole by less than a trillionth.
How near nought a sum of roots can come
Five arrows of length one, each pointing at a 122nd root of unity, laid end to end, return to within fifteen millionths of where they started. No five of the 123rd roots come within a thousandth. Two, three and four arrows shrink their smallest miss in a tidy power of n; five scatter over four powers of ten from one n to the next, and nobody knows the law they follow.