Field

Number — page 1

The whole numbers, and how much structure they turn out to have.

The sieve of Eratosthenes below 100. A grid of the whole numbers with the composites struck out by the prime that removes them.

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.

Euclid's construction on 2, 3, 5, 7. The product of the listed primes plus one, divided by each of them in turn; every division leaves one over.

There is no last prime

Euclid's argument is often described as producing a new prime from any finite list. It does not, and the number it builds is frequently composite — which makes the proof more interesting rather than less.

$φ as a continued fraction. The nested fraction, one quotient per step, descending to the right.$

A fraction that never closes

Euclid's algorithm throws away everything except the number of squares it peeled at each step. Those counts are a second name for the number it started from — one that terminates exactly when the ratio is a ratio.

The Stern–Brocot tree to depth 4. Every positive rational, each appearing exactly once, generated by taking mediants.

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.

$8 multiples of φ in 7 boxes. The fractional parts of the first multiples of a number, dropped into equal boxes along the unit interval.$

How close a fraction can get

Drop eight points into seven boxes and two of them share. That one line, applied to the multiples of an irrational number, proves that every irrational has infinitely many astonishingly good rational approximations — and no construction is needed anywhere.

Two factor trees of 360. The same number split two different ways, both ending in the same primes.

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 divisors of 60. Every divisor as a lattice point, one axis per prime, joined when one divides the other by a single prime.

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.

28 is perfect, because its divisors form this rectangle. Two rows of divisors: the powers of two, and the same powers multiplied by the Mersenne prime.

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.

The circle of radius √25 on the integer lattice. A circle drawn on the whole-number grid, with the lattice points it passes through marked.

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.

Rational points on the unit circle. Lines of rational slope through the left-hand point of a circle, each meeting it again at a rational point.

Every triple, on one circle

Draw a line of rational slope through a single point of a circle. Wherever it comes out is a rational point, and clearing the denominators turns it into a Pythagorean triple — so every triple there is comes from one line through one point.

Necklaces of 5 beads in 2 colours. Every string of beads, grouped by the rotations that carry one onto another.

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.

One number, two dials: 3 and 5. A grid of remainder pairs, each cell holding the smallest number that leaves those two remainders.

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 a 5 by 3 rectangle two ways. Lattice points in a rectangle cut by a diagonal of slope q over p, coloured by which side they fall.

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.

Two squares of side 12 inside one of side 17. Two overlapping squares laid into opposite corners of a larger one, with the overlap and the two uncovered corners marked.

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.

The partition 5 + 4 + 2 + 1 and its conjugate. A row of dots for each part, and the same dots read down the columns instead.

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.

The tree of Pythagorean triples. A tree rooted at 3-4-5. Each triple has three children, obtained by three fixed integer matrices, and every primitive triple appears exactly once somewhere in it.

A tree that holds every triple

Three fixed matrices, applied to 3-4-5 over and over, produce every primitive Pythagorean triple there is — each of them once, none of them twice, and with no test for common factors anywhere in the procedure.

Counting what has no formula

There is no expression that gives the nth prime, and yet the number of primes below a bound is predictable to within a fraction of a per cent — by a function that is not a formula for the primes but an integral of the wrong-looking quantity.

Between every number and its double. The interval from n to twice n, drawn for n up to 26, with the primes inside each marked. Every interval contains at least one.

Always one before the double

A density says what happens on average and permits long empty stretches. This says something a density cannot — that the stretch from any number to twice it contains a prime, at every scale, without exception.

The sieve as a product, and the sum over the primes. The whole numbers up to 60, with those built only from 2, 3, 5 marked — the numbers the product of three geometric series multiplies out to. Beside them, the sum of the reciprocals of the primes, which grows without bound.

The sieve written as a product

Multiply out one geometric series for each prime and every whole number appears exactly once, as a single term. That identity turns a statement about factorisation into a statement about convergence, and it is where the analytic study of the primes begins.

Whole-number points on x² − 2y² = 1. The branch of the hyperbola x² − 2y² = 1 in the first quadrant, with the whole-number points on it marked and labelled, and the lattice drawn faintly behind.

One solution that makes all the others

The equation x² − 2y² = 1 has infinitely many whole-number solutions, and every one of them is a power of the smallest. The multiplication that produces them is what multiplying two numbers of the form a + b√2 comes to when the √2 terms are collected — so an equation about a hyperbola turns out to carry a group.

Which roots refuse to be fractions

The square root of two is not a fraction, and neither is the square root of three, five, six or seven. The rule behind the list turns an infinite question into a search over the divisors of a single number — and the search finishes.

The tail that would have to be a whole number. For each denominator, the value of q! times the tail of the series for e, plotted against the band between zero and one where no whole number lies, with the bound 1/q above it.

A tail too small to be a whole number

If e were a fraction with denominator q, then q! times e would be a whole number. It splits into a whole part and a tail, the tail is squeezed strictly between nothing and one, and there is no whole number there.

The polynomial that squeezes π. On the left, xⁿ(π − x)ⁿ/n! drawn at several degrees, its largest value falling toward nothing; on the right, the derivatives of the same polynomial at zero, every one a whole number.

An integral that cannot be a whole number

Niven's proof that π is not a fraction is the same squeeze as the one for e, with a much harder multiplier. A polynomial supplies the whole number; its own smallness supplies the contradiction; and both halves are computable.

$How closely a fraction can come, and the barrier that says no closer. Two panels at very different scales: the approximations to √2, which stay above the barrier a degree-two number obeys, and the truncations of a constructed number, which fall below every barrier drawn.$

Approached too fast to be algebraic

An algebraic number of degree d cannot be approached by fractions faster than the denominator's dth power. So a number that is approached faster than that is the root of no polynomial at all — and one can be built by choosing where its decimal digits go.

All essays