Tanya Khovanova's Math Blog

From the 1966 Moscow Math Olympiad:

Prove that you can choose six weights from a set of weights weighing 1, 2, …, 26 grams such that any two subsets of the six have different total weights. Prove that you can’t choose seven weights with this property.

Let us define the sequence a(n) to be the largest size of a subset of the set of weights weighing 1, 2, …, n grams such that any subset of it is uniquely determined by its total weight. I hope that you agree with me that a(1) = 1, a(2) = 2, a(3) = 2, a(4) = 3, and a(5) = 3. The next few terms are more difficult to calculate, but if I am not mistaken, a(6) = 3 and a(7) = 4. Can you compute more terms of this sequence?

Let’s see what can be said about upper and lower bounds for a(n). If we take weights that are different powers of two, we are guaranteed that any subset is uniquely determined by the total weight. Thus a(n) ≥ log₂n. On the other hand, the total weight of a subset has to be a number between 1 and the total weight of all the coins, n(n+1)/2. That means that our set can have no more than n(n+1)/2 subsets. Thus a(n) ≤ log₂(n(n+1)/2).

Returning back to the original problem we see that 5 ≤ a(26) ≤ 8. So to solve the original problem you need to find a more interesting set than powers of two and a more interesting counting argument.

Sergei Bernstein and Nathan Benjamin brought back a variation of the “Rock, Paper, Scissors” game from the Mathcamp. They call it “Rock, Paper, Scissor.” In this variation one of the players is not allowed to play Scissors. The game ends as soon as someone wins a turn.

Can you suggest the best strategy for each player?

They also invented their own variation of the standard “Rock, Paper, Scissors.” In their version, players are not allowed to play the same thing twice in a row.

If there is a draw, then it will remain a draw forever. So the game ends when there is a draw. The winner is the person who has more points.

They didn’t invent a nice name for their game yet, so I am open to suggestions.

Let me describe a variation of Nim that is at the same time a variation of Chomp. Here’s a reminder of what Nim and Chomp are.

In the game of Nim, there are several piles of matches and two players. Each of the players, in turn, can take any number of matches, but those matches must come from the same pile. The person who takes the last match wins. Some people play with a different variation in which the person who takes the last match loses.

Mathematicians do not differentiate between these two versions since the strategy is almost the same in both cases. The classic game of Nim starts with four piles that have 1, 3, 5 and 7 matches. I call this configuration “classic” because it is how Nim was played in one of my favorite movies, “Last Year at Marienbad”. Recently that movie was rated Number One by Time Magazine in their list of the Top 10 Movies That Mess with Your Mind.

In the game of Chomp, also played by two people, there is a rectangular chocolate bar consisting of n by m squares, where the lowest left square is poisoned. Each player in turn chooses a particular square of the chocolate bar, and then eats this square as well as all the squares to the right and above. The player who eats the poisonous square loses.

Here is my Nim-Chomp game. It is the game of Nim with an extra condition: the piles are numbered. With every move a player is allowed to take any number of matches from any pile, with one constraint: after each turn the i-th pile can’t have fewer matches than the j-th pile if i is bigger than j.

That was a definition of the Nim-Chomp game based on the game of Nim, so to be fair, here is a definition based on the game of Chomp. The game follows the rules of Chomp with one additional constraint: the squares a player eats in a single turn must all be from the same row. In other words, the chosen square shouldn’t have a square above it.

The game of Nim is easy and its strategy has been known for many years. On the other hand, the game of Chomp is very difficult. The strategy is only known for 2 by m bars. So I invented the game of Nim-Chomp as a bridge between Nim and Chomp.

I recently published a puzzle about wizards, hats of different colors and rooms. Unfortunately, I was too succinct in my description and didn’t explicitly mention several assumptions. Although such assumptions are usual in this type of puzzle, I realize now, from your responses, that I should have listed them and I apologize.

The Sultan decided to test the wisdom of his wizards. He collected them together and gave them a task. Tomorrow at noon he will put hats of different colors on each of the wizard’s heads.
The wizards have a list of the available colors. There are enough hats of each color for every wizard. The wizards also have a list of rooms. There are enough rooms to assign a different room for every color.
Tomorrow as the Sultan puts hats on the wizards, they will be able to see the colors of the hats of the other wizards, but not the color of their own. Without communicating with each other, each wizard has to choose a room. The challenge comes when two wizards have the same hat color, for they must choose the same room. On the other hand, if they have different hat colors, they must choose different rooms. Wizards have one day to decide on their strategy. If they do not all complete their task, then all of their heads will be chopped off. What strategy would you suggest for the wizards?

In his comment on the first blog about this problem, JBL beautifully described the intended solution for the finite number of wizards, and any potentially-infinite number of colors. I do not want to repeat his full solution here. I would rather describe his solution for two wizards and two colors.

Suppose the colors are red and blue. The wizards will designate one of the rooms as red and another as blue. As soon as each wizard sees the other wizard’s hat color, he chooses the room of the color he sees. The beauty of this solution is that if the colors of hats are different, the color of the rooms will not match the color of the corresponding hats: the blue-hatted wizard will go to the red room and vice versa. But the Sultan’s condition would still be fulfilled.

JBL’s solution doesn’t work if the number of wizards is infinite. I know the solution in that case, but I do not like it because it gives more power to the axiom of choice than I am comfortable with. If you are interested, you can extrapolate the solution from my essay on Countable Wise Men with Hats which offers a similar solution to a slightly different problem.

Sergei just came back from MOP — Mathematical Olympiad Summer Program, where he was a grader. The first question I asked him was, “What was your favorite math problem there?” Here it is:

There are wisemen, hats and rooms. Hats are of different color and there are enough hats of each color for every wisemen. There are enough rooms, so that you can assign a different room for every color. At some moment in time the sultan puts hats on the wisemen’s heads, so as usual they see all other hats, but do not see their own hat color. At the same time, each wiseman has to choose a room to go to. If two wisemen have the same hat color, they should go to the same room. If they have different hat colors, they should go to different rooms. What strategy should the wisemen decide upon before this event takes place?

Oh, I forgot to mention the most interesting part of this problem is that you shouldn’t assume that the number of wisemen or hats or rooms is finite. You should just assume that they have the power of choice.

My son Alexey Radul and I were discussing the Tuesday’s child puzzle:

You run into an old friend. He has two children, but you do not know their genders. He says, “I have a son born on a Tuesday.” What is the probability that his second child is also a son?

Here is a letter he wrote me on the subject. I liked it because unlike many other discussions, Alexey not only asserts that different interpretations of the conditions in the puzzle form different mathematical problems, but also measures how different they are.

by Alexey Radul

If you assume that boys and girls are symmetric, and that days of the week are symmetric (and if you have no information to the contrary, assuming anything else would be sheer presumption on your part), then you can be in one of at least two states.

1) You say that “at least one son born on a Tuesday” is all the information you have, in which case your distribution including this information is uniform over consistent cases, in which case your answer is 13/27 boy and your information entropy is

− ∑₂₇ (1/27) log(1/27) = − log(1/27) = 3.2958.

2) You say that the information you have is “The guy might have said any true thing of the form ‘I have at least one {boy/girl} born on a {day of the week}’, and he said ‘boy’, ‘Tuesday’.” This is a different mathematical problem with a different solution. The solution: By a symmetry argument (see below [*]) we must assign uniform probability of him making any true statement in any particular situation. Then we proceed by Bayes’ Rule: the statement we heard is d, and for each possible collection of children h, the posterior is given by p(h|d) = p(h)p(d|h)/p(d). Here, p(h) = 1/14² = 1/196; p(d) = 1/14; and p(d|h) is either 1 or 1/2 according as whether his other child is or is not another boy also born on a Tuesday (or p(d|h) = 0 if neither child is a boy born on a Tuesday). There are 1 and 26 of these situations, respectively. The answer they lead to is of course 1/2; but the entropy is

− ∑ p log p = − 1/14 log 1/14 − 26/28 log 1/28 = 3.2827

Therefore that assumed additional structure really is more information, which is only present at best implicitly in the original problem. How much more information? The difference in entropies is 3.2958 – 3.2827 = 0.0131 nats (a nat is to a bit what the natural log is to the binary log). How much information is that? Well, the best I can do is to reproduce an argument of E.T. Jaynes’, which may or may not really apply to this situation. Suppose you have some repeatable experiment with some discrete set of possible outcomes, and suppose you assign probabilities to those outcomes. Then the number of ways those probabilities can be realized as frequencies counted over N trials is proportional to e^NH, where H is the entropy of the distribution in nats. Which means that the ratio by which one distribution is easier to realize is approximately e^N(H₁-H₂). In the case of N = 1000 and H₁ – H₂ = 0.0131, that’s circa 5×10⁵. For each way to get a 1000-trial experiment to agree with version 2, there are half a million ways to get a 1000-trial experiment to agree with version 1. So that’s a nontrivial assumption.

[*] The symmetry argument: We are faced with the following probability assignment problem

Suppose our subject’s first child is a boy born on a Tuesday, and his second child is a girl born on a Friday. What probability must we assign to him asserting that he has at least one boy born on a Tuesday?

Good question. Let’s transform our coordinates: Let Tuesday’ be Friday, Friday’ be Tuesday, boy’ be girl, girl’ be boy, first’ be second and second’ be first. Then our problem becomes

Suppose our subject’s second’ child is a girl’ born on a Friday’, and his first’ child is a boy’ born on a Tuesday’. What probability must we assign to him asserting that he has at least one girl’ born on a Friday’?

Our transformation necessitates p(boy Tuesday) = p(girl’ Friday’), and likewise p(girl Friday) = p(boy’ Tuesday’). But our state of complete ignorance about what’s going on with respect to the man’s attitudes about boys, girls, Tuesdays, Fridays, and first and second children has the symmetry that question and question’ are the same question, and must, by the desideratum of consistency, have the same answer. Therefore p(boy Tuesday) = p(boy’ Tuesday’) = p(girl Friday) = 1/2.

My classmate Misha gave me a math problem. Although I liked the math part, I hated the setup. Here is the problem using the new setup:

You are hoping to get very rich one day and you base your hopes on your new invention: a diet pill. The pill works beautifully and doesn’t have side effects. Patients simply take a pill when they get hungry. Within one hour they will fall asleep and will be unable to awake for exactly two hours, at which time they will awake by themselves feeling completely sated.
You have just arrived at your lab, when you realize that one of your interns has misplaced your bottle of wonder pills. After some investigation, you come to the conclusion that your bottle is on the shelf with 239 other bottles that contain a placebo. Unfortunately, those placebo bottles were custom-designed for your statistical tests to exactly match your medicine bottle.
You need to bring the medicine bottle to your boss in two hours. While you panic, all your five interns volunteer for experiments, hoping to be mentioned in your paper. Can you find your bottle in two hours?

The problem Misha gave me had 240 barrels of wine, one of which contained deadly poison and five slaves who could be spared.

I do not like killing people even when they are imaginary. But while I was slow in inventing my own setup, the original version of the puzzle started making the rounds on the Internet. So I decided to kill the problem by writing the solution.

The strategy is to give out some pills immediately, wait for one hour and see who falls asleep. The next step is to give some other pills at the beginning of the next hour to some of the interns who are awake.

Let’s count the information you can get out of this. Each intern will experience one of three different situations: falling asleep in the first hour, in the second hour, or not falling asleep at all. Thus, you can have a total of 3⁵ = 243 different outcomes.

If you had more bottles than 243, there would be no way to distinguish between them. The fact that you have 240 bottles might mean that 243 will work too, but apparently the designer of the puzzle didn’t want to hint into powers of three and picked the largest round number below 243. These considerations should increase your willingness to look into this problem base 3.

Let us label the bottles with different 5-character strings containing three characters 0, 1, and 2. Now we can use the label as instructions. The first character will be associated with the first intern and so on. Suppose the fourth character on the bottle’s label is 0, then the fourth intern doesn’t need to struggle with digesting a pill from this particular bottle. If the fourth character is 1, then the fourth intern gets the pill in the first hour. If the fourth character is 2, the fourth intern gets the pill in the second hour.

Note this minor detail: Suppose the fourth character on a bottle is 2, but the fourth intern is asleep by the second hour. That means, the bottle doesn’t contain the medicine, and we can put it aside.

At the end of two hours you know who fell asleep and when. This data will exactly match the label on the bottle with the medicine.

My coauthor Konstantin Knop publishes cute math problems in his blog (in Russian). Recently he posted a coin weighing problem that was given at the 2010 Euler math Olympiad in Russia to eighth graders. The author of the problem is Alexander Shapovalov.

Among 100 coins exactly 4 are fake. All genuine coins weigh the same; all fake coins, too. A fake coin is lighter than a genuine coin. How would we find at least one genuine coin using two weighings on a balance scale?

It is conceivable that your two weighings may find more than one genuine coin. The more difficult question that Konstantin and his commentators discuss is the maximum number of genuine coins you can guarantee to identify in two weighings. Konstantin and the others propose 14 as the answer, but do not have a proof yet.

I wonder if one of you can find a bigger number than Konstantin or alternatively a proof that indeed 14 is the largest possible.

You might ask, considering the title of this piece, why I think that coins are scary. No, I am not afraid of coins. It scares me that this problem was given to eighth graders in Russia, because I cannot imagine that it would be given to kids that age in the USA.

By the way, ten eighth grade students in Russia solved this problem during the competition.

I recently wrote two pieces about the puzzle relating to sons born on a Tuesday: A Son born on Tuesday and Sons and Tuesdays. I also posted a beautiful essay on the subject by Peter Winkler: Conditional Probability and “He Said, She Said”. Here is the problem:

You run into an old friend. He has two children, but you do not know what their gender is. He says, “I have a son born on a Tuesday.” What is the probability that his second child is also a son?

A side note. My son Alexey explained to me that I made an English mistake in the problem in those previous posts. It is better to say “born on a Tuesday” than “born on Tuesday.” I apologize.

Despite this error, I was gratified to hear from a number of people who told me that I had converted them from their solution to my solution. To ensure that the conversion is substantial, I’ve created a new version of the puzzle on which my readers can test out their new-found understanding. Here it is:

You run into an old friend. He has two children, but you do not know what their gender is. He says, “I have a son born on a Tuesday.” What is the probability that his second child is born on a Wednesday?

John Conway has a T-shirt with his theorem on it. I couldn’t miss this picture opportunity and persuaded John to pose for pictures with his back to me. Here is the theorem:

If you continue the sides of a triangle beyond every vertex at the distances equaling to the length of the opposite side, the resulting six points lie on a circle, which is called Conway’s circle.

Poor John Conway had to stand with his back to me until I figured out the proof of the theorem and realized which point must be the center of Conway’s circle.