One point away — page 2
A series that converges nowhere
Expand Euler's integral in powers of x and the coefficients are the factorials, so the series converges at no x but nought. Stopped at its smallest term it still computes the integral to within about e^(−1/x) — and every term added after that makes the answer worse.
Worth more for being seen first
Moving first sounds like a disadvantage, since the other side gets to see the move and answer it. When the move is a mixture that is announced and believed, it is never a disadvantage, it is worth exactly nothing in a game of pure conflict, and in other games it is worth more than any equilibrium — sometimes by announcing an action that would never be played in secret.
The thresholds that nest
Allow a second acceptance in the secretary problem and the chance of holding the best rises from about 37 per cent to about 59. The best rule is still a threshold — but one threshold for each number of choices still in hand, the earlier ones starting sooner, and each additional choice buying less than the one before.
Add the odds from the end
Watch a sequence of independent events and try to stop exactly on the last one that happens. Add up the odds of the events from the end backwards until the total reaches one, and stop at the first success from there. That rule is the best possible for any probabilities whatever, and the secretary problem is the special case in which the chances are one over the position.
How a lock comes apart
Inside a plateau the map has two periodic orbits, one attracting and one pushing away. Track them to the plateau's edge and they run into each other and vanish together — so the edge of a tongue is a collision, and the width of the plateau is how far the two can be pulled apart.
Patience instead of a contract
Commitment had to assume an announcement binds. Play the same game again tomorrow and the assumption is unnecessary — the future does the binding. What it costs is that nearly every outcome becomes an equilibrium, so a theory that could not choose between two now cannot choose between infinitely many.
The reading that is almost right
Every account of simultaneous choice so far has assumed the payoffs are known to both choosers and known to be known. Replace that with each chooser seeing a private reading off by a little, and a band of equilibria closes to a single point — so the assumption nobody states decides the answer.
The series everything else is measured against
A geometric series is not one series among many. It is the yardstick: a total exists if its terms eventually fit under one, so a single comparison settles infinitely many questions — and the test built from it says nothing at all in exactly the place where the interesting cases are.
The count a fold cannot change
A curved map can fold the plane over itself, so that one point has three preimages and its neighbour has one. Count each preimage with the sign of the determinant there and the jump disappears — the signed count is the same everywhere, and it is a whole number.
Where the time goes on an attractor
A chaotic orbit's position is unpredictable within a few dozen steps. How it divides its time is not — start anywhere, follow long enough, and the fraction of time spent in each region comes out the same. That distribution lives on a set of no area, and among the infinitely many ways an orbit could spend its time, typical starts pick exactly one.
Every point has a partner across the bisectors
Draw the three lines from the corners of a triangle through any point, reflect each in the bisector of its own angle, and the three reflections meet again. The pairing this makes swaps the centroid with the symmedian point and the orthocentre with the circumcentre, bends every straight line into a conic through the corners, and sends the circumcircle to infinity.
A triangle that fits once fits everywhere
Put one circle inside another and try to fit a triangle between them, its corners on the outer circle and its sides touching the inner. Usually no triangle fits. But if one does, then one fits starting from every point of the outer circle — and whether it does is decided by a single equation in the two radii and the distance between the centres.
A slope for a curve that is no function
The folium x³ + y³ = 3xy loops back over itself, so no formula y = f(x) describes it, and yet at almost every point it has a perfectly good tangent. Differentiating the equation as it stands gives the slope, −(∂F/∂x) ÷ (∂F/∂y), and the only points where that fails are the ones where the curve turns vertical or crosses itself — which are exactly the points where it stops being a graph.
A slope can swing but never jump
A function can have a slope at every point without that slope changing continuously: x² sin(1/x) has slope nought at the origin and a slope that swings between −1 and 1 however close to the origin it is taken. What a slope cannot do is jump. Darboux proved in 1875 that a derivative takes every value between any two of its values, so a step is never a derivative — and the only way a slope can be discontinuous is by oscillating.
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.
Every section of the band must vanish
Read the Möbius band as a line standing over each point of a circle, and choose a point on each line continuously: a section. On a cylinder a section can stay away from zero all the way round. On the band it cannot — every section crosses zero an odd number of times — and that single fact is what orientability means for a bundle. There are exactly two line bundles over a circle, told apart by one sign, and two Möbius bands added together make the plain cylinder's twin.
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.
Charged for the variance, not the range
Hoeffding's inequality knows one thing about each term of a sum: the interval it lies in. For ten thousand coins that each land heads once in a thousand, that makes it promise almost nothing — a 92% chance of thirty heads, when the truth is two in ten million. Tell the bound each term's variance as well and it changes character: Bernstein's and Bennett's inequalities decay like the normal curve while the deviation is small and like a Poisson tail beyond, and for rare events they are millions of times sharper.
A dust that almost every line misses
Keep the four corner squares of a square, then the four corners of each of those, and so on. What is left has a length, in the sense that measures length, and yet almost every straight line misses it entirely. Stage by stage the chance that a random line hits the dust falls — to 48% by the eighth stage — and how fast it falls to nothing is one of the few questions about a simple picture that is still open.
A bound that may be off by a third
The shortest tour through a set of cities is hard to find, and a linear programme gives a lower bound for it in polynomial time: give every road a weight between nought and one, two at each city, at least two across every division of the map. On random cities the bound is almost always exact. On two triangles joined by three long paths it falls short by nearly a third, and whether a third is the worst it can ever do has been conjectured for decades and never proved.
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.
How smooth the disguise is
An unlocked circle map is a rigid rotation in different coordinates, and whether those coordinates are smooth is decided by arithmetic. Solving for the change of coordinates means dividing, harmonic by harmonic, by numbers that come arbitrarily close to nought — and the golden rotation number keeps them far enough away that the result is not merely smooth but analytic, while a number lying close to a fraction makes it buckle.
Close in height and nowhere close in slope
Uniform convergence carries continuity to the limit and carries integrals to the limit. It carries slopes nowhere. The functions sin(n²x)/n flatten to nothing while their slopes grow without bound; smooth curves converge uniformly to a corner; a Fourier series converges and its differentiated series diverges. What does carry a slope is uniform convergence of the slopes themselves — and the reason is that integration averages wiggles away while differentiation multiplies them.
One glove too many
Give some people left gloves and others right ones, and let any group sell the pairs it can make. If the two sides are equal, the core — the splits no group can beat by walking out — is every price at once. If one side has a single glove more, the core is one split: the scarce side takes the whole of every pair and the other side gets nothing, however large the market. The average over orders of arrival barely notices the difference, and the two rules disagree about almost everything a market is.