Decided by exhaustion — page 9
Counting the classes that break factorisation
The class number measures how badly unique factorisation fails in a field, and defined through ideals it looks impossible to compute. Gauss computed it by hand, for every field he wanted, by counting quadratic forms — and every form can be squeezed, by changes of variable that keep its values, into exactly one small standard shape.
The narrowest door sets the pace
How fast a chain forgets is an eigenvalue, and nobody can compute the eigenvalues of a chain worth studying. Cheeger's inequality trades the eigenvalue for a picture — the narrowest door in the state space — and pins the one between the square of the other and twice it. Both ends of that range are reached, on graphs small enough to search completely.
Every surface is sewn from pants
A sphere with three holes — a pair of pants — is the smallest piece a surface with two or more handles can be cut into. Every such surface falls apart into them, and the Euler characteristic alone says how many pieces and how many cuts, however the cutting is done. What it does not say is the pattern, and the patterns are counted by drawing each one as a graph: two for two handles, five for three, seventeen for four.
The fewest corners a surface needs
Build a closed surface from triangles, any two meeting along a whole edge, at a single corner or not at all, and ask for the fewest corners. Two lines of counting give a floor for every surface, in terms of its Euler characteristic alone. The torus meets it with seven, the projective plane with six — and the Klein bottle, which the counting says could be built from seven, cannot, as a search of every possible arrangement shows.
Two graphs the eigenvalues cannot tell apart
A graph's matrix has eigenvalues, and they count a surprising amount of the drawing: its edges, its triangles, every closed walk of every length. They do not count everything. A star with four arms and a square beside a lone point have the same eigenvalues exactly, although one of them is in two pieces — and on six points ten of the 156 graphs have a twin of this kind.
The corners are the orders of arrival
Line the players up, let each join in turn, and pay each what it adds on arrival: every order gives a split. When a newcomer always adds at least as much to a bigger group, those splits are exactly the corners of the core — so the core is never empty, it is the outline of the orders, and the average over all of them lies inside it. For a group worth the square of its size the outline is a hexagon whose corners are the six orderings of 1, 3 and 5.
Each user pays for its own last link
Several users must be connected to a source, and the cheapest network that does it is a tree. Dividing its cost so that no group of users would rather build its own looks like a hard search, and it has a one-line answer: each user pays for the link that joins it to the tree on its way to the source. No group is ever overcharged — while the average over orders of arrival, the rule that settles so much else, can charge a pair more than its own connection costs.
Every power of x that draws a hyperoval
In a plane of order 2^h, the graph of x^k plus two points at infinity is sometimes a hyperoval — as many points as a plane allows with no three in line. Searching every exponent in every plane from order 4 to 4096 finds hundreds that work, and once six symmetries of the problem are applied they fall into exactly the families already known: the conic, the translation curves, Segre's x⁶ and Glynn's two. Whether that list is complete in every order is open.
Windows counted like necklaces
The logistic map has one window of period three, two of period four, three of period five, five of period six, nine of period seven — and the sine map, which shares no algebra with it, has exactly the same numbers, in exactly the same order along the parameter. The counts are 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 9, 16, 28, 51, and they are the number of ways to thread a necklace of beads in two colours.
The rank that remembers every value
Values arrive one at a time, each must be kept or discarded on the spot, and the aim is to keep one whose rank among all of them is low on average. Told only who is leading, the best rule gets 3.87. Shown the values, a rule gets below 2.33 — and how much lower the best possible rule goes is not known, because the rank of what is kept depends on every value seen, and the best rule may need to remember all of them.
Two copies of the polygon, cross-matched
The two-sided surface that lies over a one-sided one can be built from the gluing word alone: take two copies of the polygon, one read each way round, glue a letter within the copies when it is used once each way, and across them when it is used twice the same way. The recipe works for every surface at once, doubles every count, and shows that a sphere with k cross-caps is covered by the surface with k − 1 handles — and that among all its connected double covers, exactly one is two-sided.
The sums that obey a smaller equation
The twelve non-trivial thirteenth roots of unity satisfy an equation of degree twelve. Split them into three groups of four — the right three groups — and add each group: the three sums are the roots of x³ + x² − 4x + 1, an equation of degree three with whole-number coefficients. Gauss called such sums periods, found one for every divisor of p − 1, and used them to build the seventeen-gon from four quadratic equations.
How few voters any majority needs
Any pattern of head-to-head majorities whatever — cycles within cycles, a candidate who beats the winner of every other contest and loses to its loser — can be produced by voters who each rank the candidates sensibly. McGarvey's recipe needs n(n − 1) of them for n candidates. The truth is far fewer: every pattern on five candidates takes three voters at most, a counting argument shows the number must eventually grow, and it grows only like n divided by its logarithm.
The fewest swaps to a winner
When no candidate beats every other head to head, Charles Dodgson proposed in 1876 to elect the one that is closest to doing so — the candidate that the fewest swaps of neighbouring names on the ballots would turn into a winner of every contest. The rule is easy to state and hard to compute: the count needs a search, and deciding the winner is provably among the hardest problems of its kind. A much simpler count, the votes still to be won, usually agrees, more often the larger the electorate.
The fewest triangles an edge density allows
Half of all possible edges can be drawn without a single triangle. One more, and triangles appear — not one but several at once. Push the density further and the question becomes a curve: for every share of edges, the fewest triangles a large graph can hold. The answer is a string of scallops, touching a simple parabola at the densities of the balanced multipartite graphs and bulging above it between them. It was guessed in the 1980s and proved in 2008 by a method that turns counting into positive-definite matrices.
As many points as two steps allow
In a graph where every point has d neighbours and every point is within two steps of every other, there can be at most d² + 1 points — one, its d neighbours, and d(d − 1) more reached through them. Graphs that meet the bound exactly are rare to the point of absurdity. The pentagon does it for d = 2, the Petersen graph for d = 3, a fifty-point graph found in 1960 for d = 7, and an eigenvalue argument proves there is nothing else — except possibly one graph with 3,250 points and 57 neighbours each, which nobody has found or ruled out.
Six numbers that need five pentagons
In 1638 Fermat wrote that every whole number is a sum of three triangular numbers, four squares, five pentagonal numbers, six hexagonal numbers, and so on for every polygon — and that he had a proof he would not write down. The claim is true; Cauchy proved it in 1813. What the claim hides is how unequal the cases are. Triangles and squares need their full count infinitely often. For pentagons, only six numbers ever need all five — 9, 21, 31, 43, 55 and 89 — and from hexagons on, two apiece.
Fifteen numbers decide every number
Lagrange proved that x² + y² + z² + w² takes every whole value. Ramanujan asked which other sums of four weighted squares do, and in 1917 listed fifty-five. One of them is wrong: x² + 2y² + 5z² + 5w² misses 15. The mistake points at a theorem found eighty years later — to know whether such a form reaches every number, it is enough to check that it reaches 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 10, 14 and 15. Nine checks decide infinitely many cases, and the nine numbers come out of an escalation any one can run.
A machine that carries one bit
Write three numbers in base two, one above another, and read the columns from the right. Whether the bottom number is the sum of the top two can be checked with one bit of memory — the carry. That two-state machine is the whole of addition, and machines can be combined, negated and made to guess a missing number. So every sentence about whole numbers built from addition can be decided by building a machine for it, and the same machines can also handle 'x is a power of two', which addition alone cannot say.
There is a relation such that
A graph can be coloured with three colours exactly when there are three sets of its points such that every point lies in one and no edge joins two points of the same set. The sets are a guess; once guessed, the rest is a list of simple checks. Ronald Fagin proved in 1974 that this shape of sentence — 'there exist relations such that' followed by first-order conditions — describes exactly the problems whose solutions can be checked quickly, the class called NP. The central question of computer science is therefore also a question about what sentences can say.
The fewest moves to draw it
Every construction with ruler and compass is a sequence of moves — draw this line, draw that circle — and it is natural to ask for the shortest. Nobody can answer that by cleverness alone, but a machine can answer it by trying everything: the midpoint of a segment takes four moves and no fewer, the square on it five, a third of it five. Take the ruler away and the compass pays for it: six circles for the midpoint, seven for the square.
The longest code that survives every erasure
A Reed–Solomon code of k symbols can lose any n − k of its n and still be read. Over an alphabet of q symbols it can be at most q + 1 long — and it is conjectured that no code with the same perfect tolerance can ever be longer, apart from one family of exceptions in even characteristic. A search through every possible code for small alphabets confirms it cell by cell, a proof exists when q is prime, and for every other q the question is open.
A labelling every tree seems to have
Number the points of a tree 0 to n − 1 and write on each edge the difference of the numbers at its ends. The labelling is graceful if the edges then carry 1 to n − 1, each exactly once. Every tree anyone has ever checked — every one of the 551 trees on twelve points, and every tree up to about thirty-five — has such a labelling, and no one knows why. A graceful tree also tiles a complete graph by rotation, which is why the question was asked.
Every edge on exactly two cycles
Draw a graph on paper without crossings and its faces are cycles, each edge on exactly two of them. George Szekeres and Paul Seymour asked in the 1970s whether every graph without a bridge has such a set of cycles, drawn on paper or not. The Petersen graph needs five, the flower snark on twenty points five as well, every random graph tried has one, and nobody has proved it — though a minimal counterexample would have to be a snark.