Small rules, large behaviour
The shape in every picture of itself
One line of arithmetic, repeated, with a single complex number as its only input. Sort the numbers by whether the result stays bounded and the boundary between the two answers is the most complicated object anyone draws from a rule this short.
One c, one picture
The same iteration, with the parameter held still and the starting point varied instead. Every complex number gets its own picture, and moving the parameter a hair can shatter it into dust.
Eight rules and a triangle
A row of cells, each one deciding its next state from the three above it. Eight cases, one bit of output each — a rule that fits in a byte, and 256 of them in total. One of those bytes draws Pascal's triangle.
The rule that computes
One of the 256 elementary rules can run any program. Not simulate one, not approximate one — a machine that can compute anything computable, built from a lookup table with eight rows and nothing else.
The question nobody can answer
Halve it if it is even, triple it and add one if it is odd. Every number anyone has tried comes down to one. Nobody can prove they all do, and the reason is not that the problem is hard to state.
What two points can build
A compass and a straightedge are not a craft. They are two operations on a set of points, applied over and over, and writing them that way turns "can this be drawn?" into a question with an answer.
Every element is a power of one of them
Pick the right element of a finite field and its powers run through every other non-zero element exactly once before returning to one. Multiplication becomes addition of exponents, and a table of q − 1 entries replaces the whole multiplication table.
Nobody has a reason to run away
A matching is stable when no two people on opposite sides would both rather have each other than what they have — a condition that names nothing to build and everything to rule out. The surprise is that something always satisfies it, however perverse the rankings are made.
The side that proposes wins
An instance usually has several stable matchings, and the set of them is not a heap — it is a lattice, closed under taking the better partner and under taking the worse. The two ends of that lattice are exactly what deferred acceptance returns from the two sides, so whoever proposes decides which end the instance lands on.
A bounce is a fold of the table
Reflect the room instead of the ball and every bounce disappears — the trajectory becomes a straight line through a tiled plane, and questions about what a ball does forever become questions about the slope of that line.
A dimension that is not a whole number
Cover a set with boxes of side ε and count how many are needed. For a line the count grows like 1/ε, for a region like 1/ε². For the Koch curve it grows like 1/ε to the power 1.26, and that exponent is as good a definition of dimension as the other two.
The orbit written as a word
Cut the interval in two and record which half each step of an orbit lands in. The orbit becomes an infinite string of two letters, the map becomes the act of deleting the first letter, and questions about trajectories turn into questions about words.
A table folded into a surface
Unfolding a square billiard gives a straight line on a torus. Unfolding any table whose angles are whole fractions of half a turn gives a straight line on some surface — and which surface it is decides how hard the dynamics will be.
A room that cannot be lit
Mirror the walls of a room and put a lamp inside it. Every point should be lit, since light bounces forever — and there are rooms with a dark spot no ray from the lamp ever reaches.
The obstacle that makes a table chaotic
Put one round post in the middle of a square table and every trace of order goes. Two paths that start a hundred-thousandth of a degree apart end up on opposite sides of the table, and the reason is that a wall curving outwards multiplies a gap where a flat one only adds to it.
A memory of four bits
A register holding four bits, shifting them along and adding two of them back, runs through all fifteen nonzero states before it repeats. Which two are added back is a question about a polynomial, and getting it wrong costs fourteen of the fifteen.
Every site in the middle of its own cell
Move each point to the centre of mass of its own Voronoi cell, then redraw the diagram, then do it again. The rule is two lines long, it never mentions hexagons, and what it settles into is a honeycomb.
The solid whose corners are triangulations
Take the triangulations of a hexagon as points and join two of them when a single diagonal can be swapped for another. The result is not merely a graph — it is the edge skeleton of a genuine convex polyhedron, with fourteen corners, three square faces and six pentagonal ones.
A closer start buys only time
Two trajectories from almost the same place separate exponentially, and the rate does not depend on how close they began. Halving the initial error buys one fixed interval of extra agreement, and no amount of precision buys more than a fixed number of those.
Stretch, fold, and what is left
A system that pushes every pair of nearby points apart and keeps them all inside a bounded region has only one option, and it is the one a baker uses. Stretching and folding is the mechanism, and what survives infinitely many folds is a Cantor set.
The moment a giant appears
Raise the chance of an edge slowly and a random graph does nothing for a long time, then in a narrow window acquires a component holding a definite fraction of everything. The fraction is the root of an equation, and the equation says why the transition is where it is.
The window where the giant is born
Below the threshold the largest piece is a few dozen points, above it a definite fraction of everything. At the threshold it is neither, and the size it does take — the two-thirds power — is an exponent with no elementary derivation that a measurement finds immediately.
Sharp, or merely a threshold
Every monotone property of a random graph has a threshold. Some of them turn on over a range that shrinks relative to the threshold as the graph grows, and some do not — and which kind a property is turns out to be decided by whether it is about a local structure or about the whole graph.
The landscape nobody is looking at
Letting participants move one at a time to whatever is currently better can cycle forever, and on a network of congestible roads it cannot. The reason is a single number attached to each state that falls by exactly what the mover saves.