Silver-Leafed Numbers

In a comment on my “Gilded Ratios” essay fluffy wondered about a variation on the Golden and Golden-like ratios. What’s interesting about the Golden Ratio and similar numbers is that their reciprocal — one divided by them — is a whole number less than the original number. That is, 1 divided by 1.618(etc) is 0.618(etc), which is 1 less than the original number. 1 divided by 2.414(etc) is 0.414(etc), exactly 2 less than the original 2.414(etc). 1 divided by 3.302(etc) is 0.302(etc), exactly 3 less than the original 3.302(etc).

fluffy wondered about a variation. Is there some number x that’s exactly 2 less than 2 divided by x? Or a (presumably) differently number that’s exactly 3 less than 3 divided by it? Yes, there is.

Let me call the whole number difference — the 1 or 2 or 3 or so on, referred to above — by the name b. And let me call the other number — the one that’s b less than b divided by it — by the name x. Then a number x, for which b divided by x is exactly b less than itself, makes true the equation \frac{b}{x} = x - b . This is slightly different from the equation used last time, but not very different. Multiply both sides by x, which we know not to be zero, and we get a polynomial.

Yes, quadratic formula, I see you waving your hand in the back there. And you’re right. There are two x’s that will make that equation true. The positive one is x = \frac12\left( b + \sqrt{b^2 + 4b} \right) . The negative one you get by changing the + sign, just before the square root, to a – sign, but who cares about that root? Here’s the first several of the (positive) silver-leaf ratios:

Some More Numbers With Cute Reciprocals
Number Silver-Leaf
1 1.618033989
2 2.732050808
3 3.791287847
4 4.828427125
5 5.854101966
6 6.872983346
7 7.887482194
8 8.898979486
9 9.908326913
10 10.916079783
11 11.922616289
12 12.928203230
13 13.933034374
14 14.937253933
15 15.940971508
16 16.944271910
17 17.947221814
18 18.949874371
19 19.952272480
20 20.954451150

Looking over those hypnotic rows of digits past the decimal inspires thoughts. The part beyond the decimal keeps rising, closer and closer to 1. Does it ever get past 1? That is, might (say) the silver-leaf number that’s 2,038 more than its reciprocal be 2,039.11111 (or something)?

No, it never does. There are a couple of ways to prove that, if you feel like. We can take the approach that’s easiest (to my eyes) to imagine. It takes a little algebraic grinding to complete. That is to look for the smallest number b for which the silver-leaf number, \frac12\left(b + \sqrt{b^2 + 4b}\right) , is larger than b + 1 . Follow that out and you realize that it’s any value of b for which 0 is greater than 4. Logically, therefore, we need to take b into a private room and have a serious talk about its job performance, what with it not existing.

A harder proof to imagine working out, but that takes no symbol manipulation, comes from thinking about these reciprocals. Let’s imagine we had some b for which its corresponding silver-leaf number x is more than b + 1. Then, x – b has to be greater than 1. But if x is greater than 1, then its reciprocal has to be less than 1. We again have to talk with b about how its nonexistence is keeping it from doing its job.

Are there other proofs? Most likely. I was satisfied by this point, and resolved not to work on it more until the shower. Updates after breakfast, I suppose.


Looking to Euler

I haven’t forgotten about writing original material here — actually I’ve been trying to think of why something I’ve not thought about a long while is true, which is embarrassing and hard to do — but in the meanwhile I’d like to remember Leonhard Euler’s 306th birthday and point to Richard Elwes’s essay here about Euler’s totient function. “Totient” is, as best I can determine, a word that exists only for this mathematical concept — it’s the count of how many numbers are relatively prime to a given number — but even if the word comes only from the mildly esoteric world of prime number studies, it’s still one of my favorite mathematical terms. It feels like a word that ought to be more successful. Someday I’ll probably get in a nasty argument with other people playing Boggle about it.

Apparently, though, Euler didn’t dub this quantity the “totient”, and the word is a neologism coined by James Joseph Sylvester (1814 – 1897). That’s pretty respectable company, though: Sylvester — whose name you probably brush up against if you study mathematical matrices — is widely praised for his skill in naming things, although the only terms I know offhand that he gave us were “totient” and “discriminant”. That b^2 - 4ac term in the quadratic formula which tells you whether a quadratic equation has two real, one real, or two imaginary solutions, was a name (not a concept) given by him, and he named (and extended) the similar concept for cubic equations. I do believe there are more such Sylvester-dubbed terms, just, that we need a Wikipedia category to gather them together.

I’m amused to be reminded that, according to the St Andrews biographies of mathematicians, Sylvester at least one tossed off this version of the Chicken McNuggets problem, possibly after he’d worked out the general solution:

I have a large number of stamps to the value of 5d and 17d only. What is the largest denomination which I cannot make up with a combination of these two different values.

Everything I Learned In Eighth-Grade Math

My title is an exaggeration. In eighth grade Prealgebra I learned many things, but I confess that I didn’t learn well from that particular teacher that particular year. What I most clearly remember learning I picked up from a substitute who filled in a few weeks. It’s a method for factoring quadratic expressions into binomial expressions, and I must admit, it’s not very good. It’s cumbersome and totally useless once one knows the quadratic equation. But it’s fun to do, and I liked it a lot, and I’ve never seen it described as a way to factor quadratic expressions. So let me put it on the web and do what I can to preserve its legacy, and get hundreds of people telling me what it actually is and how everybody but the people I know went through a phase of using it.

It’s a method which looks at first like it’s going to be a magic square, but it’s not, and I’m at a loss what to call it. I don’t remember the substitute teacher’s name, so I can’t use that. I do remember the regular teacher’s name, but it wasn’t, as far as I know, part of his lesson plan, and it’d not be fair to him to let his legacy be defined by one student who just didn’t get him.

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Quadratic Stuff In North Carolina

However weird the linear interpolation of Charlotte, North Carolina’s population may be outside the range from 1970 to 1980, it seems to do nicely enough between those years. And that’s as we might expect, since we used the actual population data from the census days of 1970 and 1980 to form this interpolation. But we don’t have to make a linear interpolation. We could in principle use any function, but let’s try a simple one. This would be a quadratic polynomial, one where the variable x gets raised all the way to the second power, and one that brings back faint memories of the quadratic formula, which is one of the rare pieces of mathematics for which I have a work-related anecdote. Ask sometime if you’re interested.

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