This stone tablet from 1800-1600 BC shows that ancient Babylonians were able to approximate the square root of two with 99.9999% accuracy.
How did they do it?
First, let’s decipher the tablet itself. It is called YBC 7289 (short for the 7289th item in the Yale Babylonian Collection), and it depicts a square, its diagonal, and numbers written around them.
Here is a stylized version.
As the Pythagorean theorem implies, the diagonal’s length for a unit square is √2. Let’s focus on the symbols there!
These are numbers, written in Babylonian cuneiform numerals. They read as 1, 24, 51, and 10.
Since the Babylonians used the base 60 numeral system (also known as sexagesimal), the number 1.24 51 10 reads as 1.41421296296 in decimal.
This matches √2 up to the sixth digit, meaning a 99.9999% accuracy!
The computational accuracy is stunning. To appreciate this, pick up a pen and try to reproduce this without a calculator. It’s not that easy!
Here is how the ancient Babylonians did it.
We start by picking a number x₀ between 1 and √2. I know, this feels random, but let’s just roll with it for now. One such example is 1.2, which is going to be our first approximation.
Because of this, 2/x₀ is larger than √2.
Thus, the interval [x₀, 2/x₀] envelopes √2.
From this, it follows that the mid-point of the interval [x₀, 2/x₀] is a better approximation to √2. As you can see in the figure below, this is significantly better!
Let's define x₁ by this.
Continuing on this thread, we can define an approximating sequence by taking the midpoints of such intervals.
Here are the first few terms of the sequence. Even the third member is a surprisingly good approximation.
If we put these numbers on a scatterplot, we practically need a microscope to tell the difference from √2 after a few steps.
Were the Babylonians just lucky, or did they hit the nail right on the head?
This is not a trick: the cosine of the imaginary number 𝑖 is (e⁻¹ + e)/2.
How on Earth does this follow from the definition of the cosine? No matter how hard you try, you cannot construct a right triangle with an angle 𝑖. What kind of sorcery is this?
Read on to find out.
First, the fundamentals.
In their original form, trigonometric functions are defined in terms of right triangles.
For an acute angle α, the sine and cosine are given by the ratio of the appropriate leg and the hypotenuse. (This is visualized below.)
Is this a proper definition? Doesn't it depend on the choice of the triangle?
Even though the sine and cosine formally depend on the sides, they remain invariant to translating, scaling, rotating, and reflecting the triangle.
If the sidewalk is wet, is it raining? Not necessarily. Yet, we are inclined to think so. This is a preposterously common logical fallacy called "affirming the consequent".
However, it is not totally wrong. Why? Enter the Bayes theorem.
Propositions of the form "if A, then B" are called implications.
They are written as "A → B", and they form the bulk of our scientific knowledge.
Say, "if X is a closed system, then the entropy of X cannot decrease" is the 2nd law of thermodynamics.
In the implication A → B, the proposition A is called "premise", while B is called the "conclusion".
The premise implies the conclusion, but not the other way around.
If you observe a wet sidewalk, it is not necessarily raining. Someone might have spilled a barrel of water.
Even looking at the definition used to make me sweat, let alone trying to comprehend the pattern. Yet, there is a stunningly simple explanation behind it.
Let's pull back the curtain!
First, the raw definition.
This is how the product of A and B is given. Not the easiest (or most pleasant) to look at.
We are going to unwrap this.
Here is a quick visualization before the technical details.
The element in the i-th row and j-th column of AB is the dot product of A's i-th row and B's j-th column.