The same thing twice — page 10
Seven powers in a space of six
Is √2 + ∛3 a root of some polynomial with whole-number coefficients? It lives in a field of dimension six, so its first seven powers are seven vectors in a six-dimensional space and must be dependent — and the dependency, solved exactly, is the polynomial. The same count shows every sum, product and quotient of algebraic numbers is algebraic, without ever needing a formula.
The integers a field contains
Inside the field of numbers a + b√5, the obvious integers are those with whole a and b. They are not all of them: the golden ratio has a one-half in it and satisfies x² = x + 1, a monic equation with whole coefficients, exactly as an integer should. The right integers form a lattice twice as dense as the obvious one — and a whole-number matrix proves they are closed under addition.
A plane no field built
Every finite field builds a projective plane, and for a long time every known plane was built that way. The plane over Dickson's nearfield of order nine has ninety-one points, ninety-one lines and every incidence right — and Desargues' theorem fails in it on most configurations tried, except for one line, from which it never fails at all.
The curve that no three points in line define
In a finite plane, take as many points as possible with no three on a line. In odd order the largest such sets have one more point than the order — and every one of them, searched exhaustively in the small planes and proved by Segre for all odd orders, is a conic. In even order every tangent meets at one point, which can be added, and the curves stop being forced.
Where two roots run into each other
Put every quadratic equation at a point of a plane, one coordinate per coefficient. Each possible root becomes a straight line there, every one of those lines touches the same parabola, and that parabola is the discriminant — the crease where the plane of roots is folded onto the plane of equations.
One number under every bell
The area under e^(−x²) has no formula in terms of the usual functions, and yet the area under e raised to any downward quadratic is known exactly. Completing the square in the exponent moves and squeezes every such curve into the same one, so a single number — √π — pays for all of them.
A rectangle cut by a curve
Integration by parts is taught as the product rule run backwards. It is also a picture: an increasing curve cuts a rectangle into two pieces, one of them the area under the curve and the other the area beside it, and the formula says only that the pieces fill the rectangle. Run repeatedly, the same cut produces the factorials and Wallis's product for π.
Fair bits from an unfair coin
Read a biased coin's flips in pairs, keep 01 as 0 and 10 as 1, and throw away the rest: the output is exactly fair, whatever the bias, and nobody needs to know the bias. The trick wastes most of the coin, the waste can be recycled almost up to the ceiling Shannon's entropy sets — and it fails quietly the moment the flips remember each other.
A filter that changes only the spread
The generator most simulations use passes every output through a last scrambling step before anyone sees it. The step is reversible, it changes nothing about the period, and it cannot make the generator any less predictable. What it changes is which patterns of consecutive outputs can occur at all — on a small twisted generator, from half of them to every one.
Moves that only ever add edges
Turán's theorem says the densest graph avoiding a complete graph on r + 1 points is the balanced r-part graph. Zykov's proof finds it by a sequence of moves — turn a point into a copy of a better-connected one it is not joined to — each of which adds edges and none of which can create the forbidden clique. A second proof spreads a unit of weight over the points and gets the same bound from a maximum.
Three ordinary lines from a count
Kelly's proof finds one line through exactly two of the points by minimising a distance. Melchior, seven years earlier, had found three — by turning every point into a line and counting the corners, edges and regions of the picture that results. Euler's formula for the projective plane does the rest, and it says exactly which configurations have no more than three.
The fewest ordinary lines a polygon allows
Take the corners of a regular polygon and add the points at infinity where its parallel chords meet. Every chord then carries three points, the line at infinity carries all the new ones, and the only lines left with exactly two points are the tangents at the corners — half as many as there are points. Dirac guessed in 1951 that nothing does better, and Green and Tao proved it in 2013.
The fraction Lambert built for the tangent
The first proof that π is not a fraction, from 1761, does not look at π at all. It writes the tangent as an endless continued fraction, shows that the fraction's value at any rational point other than zero cannot be rational — because its tails are trapped between nothing and one — and then notes that tan(π/4) = 1.
The pattern in e's continued fraction
Written as a continued fraction, e is 2; 1, 2, 1, 1, 4, 1, 1, 6, 1, 1, 8 — two ones, then the next even number, for ever. Euler found the pattern and proved it with a differential equation. A proof from 2006 needs only three integrals, each of which turns out to be exactly the error of one of e's own convergents.
One coin, counted by runs and by wakings
Beauty is put to sleep and a fair coin is tossed. Heads, she is woken once; tails, twice, with the first waking erased from her memory. Each time she wakes she is asked how likely heads is. One half, say some; one third, say others; and unlike every earlier puzzle of this kind, stating the protocol exactly does not end the argument.
Every power sum, from the coefficients alone
Raise the roots of a polynomial to the k-th power and add them. However the roots turn, the total is a whole number when the coefficients are, and Newton's identities produce it from the coefficients one step at a time — no root is ever found. Run the rule on x³ − x − 1 and out comes Perrin's sequence, whose terms know which numbers are prime, nearly.
The roots of the slope stay inside
Mark the roots of a polynomial in the complex plane and stretch a band around them. However the roots are arranged, the roots of the derivative land inside the band — never outside, never on a new frontier. The reason is a balance of pushes, the same reason makes the derivative of a cubic mark the foci of an ellipse nobody asked for, and a question about how far inside the roots must sit has been open since 1958.
When one of the two numbers is missing
The duality theorem is usually quoted as an equality: a linear program and its dual reach the same number. That is one of four cases. A program can run away to infinity, or have no feasible point at all, and then its dual is forced into a matching failure. Every small program with coefficients from minus one to one has been classified, and the table has exactly four occupied cells out of nine.
The lines the optimum lies under
Change the resources a linear program is given and its best value changes too, tracing a graph. Every solution of the dual is a straight line lying above that graph, and the graph is exactly the lowest of those lines — a bent roof of finitely many planks. Require the answer to be in whole numbers and the roof stays where it was while the graph falls away beneath it in steps, and the space between is the part of the problem no price can see.
The price of a construction
Three theorems have shown that a compass alone, a straightedge with one circle, and a compass stuck at one opening all reach exactly the points a full set of instruments reaches. None of them said what the journey costs. Émile Lemoine priced every movement of the hand in 1888, and by his count a compass that collapses when lifted — Euclid's — pays twenty-one operations, by Euclid's own method, for what a compass that holds its opening does in four.
A solvable chaos of every degree
The logistic map at four is chaotic and, through a change of coordinates, completely solvable: its orbits are cosines of doubling angles. The trick is not a one-off. For every whole number n there is a polynomial of degree n that multiplies angles by n instead of 2, and every one of them is exactly as solvable, has exactly nᵏ points of period k, and preserves the same distribution — and any two of them commute, which almost no two polynomials do.
One number for every chord through a point
Draw any line through a point and let it cut a circle twice. The two distances from the point to the circle multiply to the same number whichever line is drawn — inside, outside, or grazing as a tangent. The number belongs to the point, and the reason it does not depend on the line is the inscribed angle: two chords through a point cut out two triangles with the same angles.
Every side measured by one diameter
In any triangle, divide each side by the sine of the angle opposite it: the three answers are equal. That much is the law of sines, and it is usually left there. The common answer has a name — it is the diameter of the circle through the triangle's corners — and the reason is the inscribed angle once more. It is also why the sine was first a half-chord, why Ptolemy's theorem is the addition formula, and why a circle can hold infinitely many points all at rational distances from each other.
A quantifier is a shadow
'There is an x such that …' asks whether a column of a grid contains a mark — which is the same as asking whether a shape casts a shadow on the axis below it. Over the real numbers every such shadow can be described without the quantifier, by polynomial inequalities: 'x² + ax + 1 = 0 has a solution' is just a² ≥ 4. Over the whole numbers the same kind of shadow can carve out the primes, and any set a computer can list.