Throwing things away — page 2
The lattice that runs the other way
The symmetries of a polynomial's roots form a group, and the fields between the bottom and the top form a lattice. The two are the same picture, one of them turned over — a bigger group of symmetries fixes less, so it names a smaller field.
The axiom is the shape of the graph
Add one operator meaning necessarily and the choice of which axioms to accept stops being a matter of taste. Each candidate axiom is true of exactly those worlds-and-arrows diagrams whose arrows have a stated property, and a logic is a class of graphs.
The curve of the average, and the average of the curve
A curve that bends upwards keeps every one of its chords above it. That single fact, applied to a weighted average instead of a midpoint, turns into an inequality that produces the arithmetic–geometric mean inequality, Cauchy–Schwarz and the entropy bound as special cases.
The mark that changes what is reachable
Two thousand years of failure to trisect an angle with compass and straightedge was failure at a stated set of operations. Scratch two marks on the straightedge and Archimedes trisects any angle in four steps — because the new operation solves a cubic, and the old ones could only ever solve quadratics.
Linked, and no two of them are
Three rings that cannot be pulled apart, in which every pair comes apart the moment the third is removed. Every pairwise linking number is zero, so the number cannot see it — and what does see it is a word in two letters that refuses to cancel.
The objection nobody can make louder
When no split of the winnings survives every group's objection, the core is empty and the question changes — which split makes the loudest objection as quiet as it can be? Sorting the complaints and minimising them in dictionary order picks exactly one split, always, whether or not the core exists.
The polynomial whose roots are the stretches
Finding the directions a map leaves alone means finding the numbers at which it crushes something to nothing. Those numbers are the roots of one quadratic, and everything the map does is written in its two coefficients.
The same map in a better basis
Measured along its own invariant directions, a linear map stops shearing and becomes two independent stretches. Nothing about the map has changed; the grid it is described against has.
What a map does to a circle
Every linear map sends the unit circle to an ellipse. Two perpendicular directions go to two perpendicular directions, whatever the map is — even a map with no invariant direction at all, and even one that is not square.
The error that does not care how many dimensions
A grid gets rapidly better in one dimension and hopelessly worse in twenty. Random points get better at the same slow rate whatever the dimension, which is why a method that is bad everywhere ends up being the only one that works.
Sampling where the answer lives
Monte Carlo error cannot be made to fall faster than the square root, so the only thing left to attack is the constant in front of it. Drawing points where the integrand is large, and dividing by how often they were drawn, leaves the answer alone and can shrink the noise many times over.
Points too even to be random
Independent random points clump, and the clumping is what makes the error fall only as the square root. Points chosen to be evenly spread rather than independently beat that rate, and the price is that nothing about them is random at all.
One step in front of infinitely many
Put one step before an infinite run of them and nothing has changed; put it after and something has. Ordinal addition records that difference, which is why it is not commutative — and why it keeps information that counting throws away.
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.
The tree inside the triangulation
The shortest network joining a set of points is built from edges chosen by length, and the triangulation is built from edges chosen by an emptiness condition about circles. The two constructions share no step, and every edge of the first is an edge of the second.
The group a space has at a point
The loops of a space form a group once a starting point is fixed, and the fixing looks like an arbitrary choice that ought to be removable. It is removable, but only up to conjugation, and the residue is exactly what makes a non-commutative fundamental group harder to state than to compute.
Every cover is a subgroup
A space can be unrolled, and the ways of unrolling it are not arbitrary. They correspond exactly to the subgroups of its fundamental group — index equals sheets, normality equals symmetry — so a question about a group becomes a question about a picture and back again.
Cutting a space to find its group
A space assembled from two pieces has a fundamental group assembled from theirs, and the recipe is exact — take everything both groups offer and impose the relations the overlap forces. Almost every fundamental group anybody knows is computed this way, including all of the surfaces.
The flow that is really a map
A trajectory wandering through three dimensions is hard to reason about. Record only the successive maxima of one coordinate and the wandering collapses onto a curve — a map of an interval to itself, with a corner in the middle, which is a thing the theory can handle.
The function seen from its tangents
A convex function is the upper envelope of its own tangent lines, so it can be described by giving, for each slope, how far the line of that slope has to be pushed down. That description is a second function, and applying the construction twice returns the original.
One subtraction clears a direction
A basis is a set of directions to measure along, and most bases are awkward because the directions get in each other's way. Removing one shadow at a time turns any basis into one where every coordinate is a shadow and nothing interferes.
The nearest point of a flat thing
More equations than unknowns almost never have a solution. Asking instead for the point of a plane nearest to where the answer should have been turns an unanswerable question into a shadow, and the shadow is what a line of best fit is.
Slid, but never turned
Every construction on this ladder turns its pieces. Forbid the turn — allow the pieces to be slid and nothing else — and equal area stops being enough, for a reason that is a single number attached to each direction and that a cut cannot change.
A lemma, and the proof that never mentions one
Proving something by first proving a lemma is what makes mathematics readable, and it is exactly what makes a proof system impossible to search — because the lemma can be any formula at all. Gentzen proved the step can always be removed, and the removal is not free.