Doing infinitely many things — page 3
The instance that has to be guessed
Every rule of a propositional tableau replaces a formula by shorter ones, which is why it stops. The rule for a universal claim does not replace it — it keeps it and adds an instance — and one word changing turns a decision procedure into a search that may run forever.
The subsequence that has to exist
Every bounded list of numbers has a part that settles down. A bounded list of functions need not: the waves sin 2πkx never come within 1.76 of one another. One extra condition — that no member may change faster than a bound they all share — restores the guarantee, and it is the reason a differential equation with a continuous rule has a solution at all.
A sum read from inside
The series 1 − 1/2 + 1/3 − 1/4 + … adds to log 2, and the reason is not in the series. Its power series equals log(1 + x) inside the interval, and the value at the edge is read off by continuity. Abel's theorem says when that reading is honest — and the series 1 − 1 + 1 − …, which has no sum, is read the same way as a half.
Which curves have a length at all
A length is defined as a supremum over inscribed polygons, which behaves because every refinement is longer than the last. It is also sometimes infinite — and the condition separating the two cases is a sum of absolute differences that either settles or does not.
How fast the ball fills
Count the elements within r steps of doing nothing. The count grows like a polynomial in some groups and like a power of three in others, the distinction survives every change of generating set, and which polynomial degrees are possible is a theorem nobody expected.
The edge that is as big as the ball
In a lattice the boundary of a large ball is a negligible fraction of it. In a tree it is two thirds of it at every size — and that single ratio, not the group's size, is what decides whether a set can be cut into pieces and reassembled into two copies of itself.
The repair at the boundary
Where the geometric yardstick says nothing, compare a series with itself at doubled spacing. That one move turns every 1/n^p back into a geometric series, reads the threshold off at p = 1, and then produces an infinite hierarchy of boundaries with no slowest divergent series anywhere in it.
Why a quarter of numbers overshoot
About one number in four has proper divisors adding to more than itself. That a proportion exists at all is not automatic — there are sets defined just as simply that have no proportion — and the reason this one does is that abundance is inherited by multiples, and the numbers it is first inherited from are sparse enough to add up.
A number larger than every number
Ask for a number bigger than 0, bigger than 1, bigger than 2, and so on for ever. Every finite piece of that request is granted by an ordinary number, so compactness grants all of it at once — in a structure that satisfies every sentence true of the whole numbers and still contains something beyond all of them. Nothing in first-order logic can say 'and nothing else'.
A countable field that passes for the line
The real numbers are uncountable, and every first-order sentence about their addition, multiplication and order is also true of a countable field inside them — the real algebraic numbers. Löwenheim and Skolem showed this is no quirk of the reals: every theory with an infinite model has a countable one, including set theory, which then contains sets it calls uncountable.
An endless region with a finite area
A region that runs off to infinity can still have a finite area, and for the curves 1/xᵖ the exponent that makes the far end finite is exactly the one that makes the end at zero infinite. 1/x fails at both, no power succeeds at both, and a horn can hold less than π while needing infinite paint.
A function that adds and is nowhere a line
Every continuous function with f(x + y) = f(x) + f(y) is a straight line through the origin. Drop continuity and, given the axiom of choice, there are others — functions that add perfectly and whose graphs are scattered densely over the whole plane. A finite piece of the construction can be drawn exactly; the whole of it needs a basis of the real numbers that no one can write down.
Infinitely many guessers, finitely many wrong
An infinite line of people each wears a black or white hat, sees every hat in front and none of their own, and must guess their own colour. With a finite line, each guesser is right half the time whatever they agree in advance. With an infinite line and the axiom of choice, they can agree a strategy under which all but finitely many are right — and nobody can carry it out.
Almost every orbit is fair
Double a number and keep the fractional part, and do it again, and again. Where the orbit goes is written in the number's binary digits, and for almost every starting point it spends exactly a quarter of its time in each quarter of the interval. The proof is a short argument about Fourier coefficients being pushed to infinity — and it leaves room for a set of exceptions with no length at all, which includes every fraction and, for all anyone can prove, every number anyone has ever named.
A limit can jump at every fraction
A sequence of continuous functions can settle, point by point, on a function that is discontinuous at every rational number. It cannot settle on one that is discontinuous everywhere — the indicator of the rationals needs two limits in a row, and Riemann's integral cannot follow the second. The line between the two is Baire's theorem, and it measures smallness by gaps rather than by length.
Uniform, except on a small set
The functions xⁿ settle on their limit at every point and never uniformly — the trouble is all in a strip next to 1. Throw the strip away and the convergence is uniform on what is left, however thin the strip. Egorov proved that this always happens on an interval, Lusin proved the matching fact about a single function, and a bump sliding off along the whole line shows why both need a set of finite length to start from.
The length the derivative never sees
The Cantor function climbs from 0 to 1 with a slope of zero almost everywhere, so the formula ∫√(1 + f′²) dx says its graph has length 1 — the length of a flat line. The inscribed polygons say 2. Mix it half and half with the diagonal and the length becomes exactly the golden ratio, while the formula still reports only the part the slope can see.
The ground a walk covers
A random walk of a thousand steps visits far fewer than a thousand places: in one dimension about fifty, in the plane about four hundred, in space about six hundred and sixty. The share of steps that land on new ground is exactly the chance of never coming home — so the number that decides whether a walker returns also decides how much of the world it sees.
The ripples that make a series run away
Adding up the first N terms of a Fourier series is the same as averaging the function against one fixed wiggly curve. Its area is always one, but the area of its absolute value grows like the logarithm of N, without limit — and that single number is enough to force a continuous function, with no jump and no corner anywhere, whose Fourier series diverges at a point. Averaging the partial sums removes the negative ripples, and with them the whole problem.
A root lifted one digit at a time
On a dial of seven, 3 × 3 is 2. On a dial of forty-nine the square root of 2 must reduce to 3, so there are only seven candidates, and exactly one of them works: 10. On a dial of 343 exactly one lift of 10 works: 108. Each step adds one digit on the left, found by solving a linear equation, and the digits go on for ever — a number …21216213 whose square is 2, in a world where closeness means divisibility by seven.
What is left when the middle is taken out
Cut a finite piece out of a group's picture and count the parts of what remains that run off forever. The integers leave two, the plane one, a tree more with every cut — and no group anywhere leaves exactly three, because a third end is always the first of infinitely many.
The polygon a lattice becomes from far away
Walk the grid of whole-number points with a fixed set of moves and the places reachable in r moves fill a shape. With axis steps it is a diamond, add a diagonal and it is a hexagon, move like a knight and it is a ragged thing full of holes — which, seen from far enough away, is an octagon exactly. The generators decide the polygon, and the polygon decides the count.
Enough partners in every finite group
Hall's theorem says a matching exists unless some group has too few partners between them. On an infinite graph that is false: one vertex that can be paired with anybody, and every other with exactly one, passes the test on every finite group and has no matching at all. The failure needs a vertex with infinitely many choices. Forbid that, and the theorem comes back, by an argument about trees rather than about matchings.
Units that form a lattice
In the whole numbers only 1 and −1 have whole-number reciprocals. In the integers of a bigger field there can be infinitely many such units, and they are not scattered: take logarithms of their sizes under each way of placing the field in the real or complex numbers, and the units land exactly on a lattice. How many dimensions that lattice has is a count of those placements, and the area of its cell is a number no formula gives.