My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 291 Three-Color Channel

Chen Zhuo loosened his grip on the glass.

Chen Zhuo took half a step back and pushed the chair away.

The chair leg scraped against the floor with a screeching sound, inconspicuous in the somewhat noisy pub, but it made the other people at the table stop what they were doing at the same time.

David put down his cup and looked at him.

Chen Zhuo turned around and, without any hesitation, strode towards the blackboard at the deepest part of the tavern.

Chen Zhuo stopped in front of the blackboard.

He didn't wipe the blackboard, nor did he look at the grayish-white chalk marks he had just erased.

His gaze went straight past the red vortex that Allen had drawn in the center and landed on a blank space on the outermost edge of the grid.

Chen Zhuo reached out and picked up the half-eaten piece of white chalk from the trough.

He turned his head and glanced at the few people still sitting at the table.

"You just said that if you encounter an infinitely unfillable hole, you will stop trying to fill it."

Chen Zhuo turned around and slammed the chalk in his hand directly onto the blackboard.

"Physics has the Planck length, and computers have error reporting mechanisms."

The chalk scribbled sharply downwards on the blackboard.

A straight, blunt white vertical line severed the line representing the nonlinear tensor product.

The line was drawn very heavily, and chalk dust dripped down the surface of the blackboard.

"Then I'll build a wall in algebra."

As Chen Zhuo spoke, he quickly wrote a new equation on the right side of the vertical line.

Algebraic loops.

Chow group.

His movements were no longer as hesitant and slow as before; every stroke was now decisive.

"Since conventional repairs would lead to an exponential explosion, let's refuse to calculate it."

Chen Zhuo drew an X on the variable symbol of the tensor product with chalk, and then wrote an extremely simple mathematical symbol next to it.

"I don't care how big the central singularity is, nor do I calculate all the shapes when the grid shrinks inward."

After writing down the constant, Chen Zhuo moved a step to the side, making room on the blackboard.

He turned his head and looked at Sam.

"In the algorithm, you can set a boundary to forcibly truncate it."

Chen Zhuo pointed to the constant C on the blackboard with his chalk-dust-covered fingers.

"In algebraic geometry, I can do the same. I can use the rigidity of algebraic cycles to set a line here."

Chen Zhuo lowered his hand.

"If a dimension dares to cross this line, there's no need to calculate whether it will explode; algebraic theorems will directly and forcibly truncate it."

Chen Zhuo looked into Sam's eyes.

"I've locked its variable limit firmly within this constant C."

The background music in the pub was changed to a soothing country ballad.

Several people sat around the table, looking at Chen Zhuo in front of the blackboard and listening to what he had just said.

David was the first to react; he understood geometry and the brutality of such truncation in mathematics.

But before he could speak, Sam, who was sitting diagonally opposite him, made a move.

Sam was leaning back in his chair, holding a half-full glass of beer, looking tired and like he was watching a show.

But when his gaze fell on the blackboard and he saw the C that Chen Zhuo had written, representing the upper limit of the constant.

Sam's gaze froze.

He stared at the white letter, his eyes unmoving.

constant.

Upper limit.

Cut off.

These words might sound like mathematical terms to the average person, but in the mind of an MIT postdoc who deals with crashes, errors, and memory overflows year after year, these words instantly transform into the most basic code logic.

If a variable that would normally explode exponentially is suddenly fitted with an absolutely valid upper limit of constant at the mathematical level.

What does this mean?

This means that even if it loops wildly in the grid, its memory usage will never exceed a fixed value.

It will never overflow!

Sam's breathing suddenly became heavy.

The beer glass he was holding tilted suddenly.

The yellow stout spilled from the rim of the glass, splashing directly onto the hem of his hoodie and jeans, leaving a large, dark stain.

The cold liquor clung to his skin, but Sam didn't notice at all.

"Bang."

Sam slammed the glass he was holding onto the table.

He suddenly stood up from the chair, the movement so large that it knocked the chair behind him to the ground.

He didn't reach for the chair, nor did he pay attention to David's astonished gaze. He strode forward and rushed towards the blackboard in the corner.

Sam took two strides to Chen Zhuo's side, his burly body almost touching the blackboard.

He groped around haphazardly in the wooden trough beneath the blackboard.

He swept a few cigarette butts to the ground and picked up a piece of yellow chalk, only half a finger's length long, that someone had left behind.

"Excuse me."

Sam nudged Chen Zhuo's arm with the back of his hand without any politeness, signaling him to move away a little.

Chen Zhuo stepped back two steps, giving Sam complete control of the center of the blackboard.

Sam held the broken piece of yellow chalk in his hand, his eyes bloodshot from staying up all night and excitement.

He stared at the algebra wall drawn by Chen Zhuo, and then dropped the chalk in his hand directly onto it.

"If it's a constant..."

Sam spoke very quickly, his voice hoarse with excitement, and filled with a kind of fanaticism.

"If the matrix's dimension can only go up to this C..."

Sam completely disregarded the formatting Chen Zhuo had just written. He quickly wrote down a huge algorithm structure right next to the constant C on the right side of the algebraic cutoff line.

It's not a mathematical formula, but rather pseudocode and nested loops of the Monte Carlo algorithm.

"Then I don't need to render the entire mesh of the high-dimensional manifold at all!"

As Sam wrote, he rubbed his wrist hard against the blackboard, and yellow chalk dust fell down in a flurry.

"Since it can't cross this line, I'll concentrate all my computing power outside of it!"

He drew a local convergence arrow pointing to the algebraic wall.

"I am not the singularity, I am only the boundary."

Sam suddenly turned his head and looked at Chen Zhuo, his bloodshot eyes revealing a kind of frenzied excitement.

"By running a locally convergent algorithm on this wall, the boundary values ​​can be stabilized!"

Sam turned around and drew a heavy circle on the blackboard with yellow chalk, enclosing the locally converging loop code inside.

"The server doesn't need to handle infinite data, so the memory won't overflow."

He banged on the blackboard hard.

"This stupid grid actually works!"

Sam finished writing the last line, his chest heaving violently, his fingers covered in a thick layer of yellow chalk dust.

Alan, sitting at the table, still had a half-eaten fries in his hand.

He watched as Sam rushed forward like a madman, staring at the extra yellow algorithms on the blackboard.

White algebraic walls, yellow local cycles.

The previously tightly locked knot of physics in Allen's mind suddenly loosened.

He understands high-energy physics; he knows all too well what the conditions for spacetime collapse are.

Chen Zhuo used algebra to cut off the shrinkage of the grid, while Sam used algorithms to stabilize the convergence of the boundary.

What does this tell us?

This indicates that, at the mathematical and logical level, this spatial structure has stopped collapsing inward.

Now that it no longer collapses, the most critical problem in physics is solved.

The missing spin tension is no longer a problem!

Because there is no need for outward tension to support a space that has stopped collapsing!

Allen dropped the fries he was holding onto the table.

He felt his heart pound twice in his chest.

Allen suddenly stood up.

He felt the air in the tavern suddenly become thin, so he grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it outwards with force.

He ripped a button off, it bounced in mid-air, and then fell to the floor, rolling away to who knows where.

Allen completely ignored the open collar.

He rushed toward the blackboard, even faster than Sam had been, his shoulder even bumping into an empty table next to him.

He took two steps to the blackboard, his gaze sweeping over the wooden trough, and grabbed the half of red chalk he had just thrown there.

"You two..."

Allen's voice was louder than Sam's, and he squeezed directly from the left between Chen Zhuo and Sam.

He didn't waste any words with them, took the red chalk, and pressed it directly onto the white algebra wall that Chen Zhuo had drawn.

"Since the space won't collapse."

Allen drew an extremely glaring red line on the blackboard with the red chalk in his hand.

"Then who cares whether it has outward tension support or not?!"

Allen's movements were sweeping and powerful, with red physics symbols appearing one after another on the white wall, directly covering a portion of the yellow code.

That's the Hamiltonian, the vacuum state equation in gauge field theory.

"Since it's locked at this boundary."

As Allen wrote, he turned his head to look at Chen Zhuo and Sam, his eyes shining with an alarming intensity.

"Then let's redefine the vacuum state!"

He turned around and drew a wavy line symbol representing a two-dimensional membrane in string theory heavily on the edge of the algebra wall.

"No gravitons are needed, and the mass of black holes needs to be calculated."

Allen's breathing was even heavier than Sam's.

"It won't become a black hole anymore; right here on this wall, on this constant boundary, it has been reduced in dimension!"

Allen tapped the blackboard hard.

"It has been reduced to a two-dimensional string membrane!"

After finishing the last symbol, Allen haphazardly wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing red chalk dust onto his eyebrows.

In front of the blackboard.

The three people were standing very close together.

Chen Zhuo stood in the middle, with Alan on his left, his collar open, and Sam on his right, his trousers still stained with beer.

No one speaks.

The sounds of clinking glasses, chatting, and even music from the jukebox in the pub seemed to be shut out by an invisible barrier at this moment.

The air in this space, which is less than two square meters, is scorching hot.

Chen Zhuo looked at the blackboard in front of him.

Ten minutes ago, there was only a lonely, collapsing white grid here, with a few lines of equations written next to it that had been attempted to be repaired but ultimately failed.

And now.

Three different colors are interwoven on the blackboard.

The white algebraic geometric matrix, like a cold and ruthless gate, is firmly stuck in the most central position.

The yellow computer algorithm code, like dense vines, clung to the outside of the white gate, stabilizing the values ​​at the edge.

The red high-energy physics field theory equations, like a huge net, cover the surface of both, perfectly embedding the concepts of vacuum state and string membrane.

The three of them, using three completely different academic languages ​​and three different colors of cheap chalk, managed to carve an incredible passage out of a dead end in this late-night Boston bar.

Sam looked at the red physics symbols, then at the yellow code he had written, and finally his gaze fell on the white vertical line.

He turned his head and looked at Chen Zhuo.

Sam didn't speak, he just looked at the fourteen-year-old boy.

Allen also stopped what he was doing, clutching the half-burnt red chalk tightly in his hand, his gaze shifting back and forth between Chen Zhuo and the blackboard.

Chen Zhuo noticed their gazes.

He didn't show any pride, nor did he take the opportunity to boast about how ingenious his algebra wall was.

He simply reached out naturally and lightly tapped the red, yellow, and white areas on the blackboard with his fingertips.

"Here, and here too."

Chen Zhuo's voice remained gentle and steady, without any tremor, like a calm surgeon checking the final details after watching his assistants suture the wound.

"The convergence condition of the algorithm and the vacuum state of the gauge field are still missing an equivalent substitution bridge. Although the algebraic wall has been built, the cracks in the door have not been completely sealed."

Chen Zhuo turned his head and looked at Allen and Sam.

He smiled slightly.

"A single constant cannot lock in these two dimensions of variables."

Chen Zhuo raised his hand and handed the half-eaten piece of white chalk he had been holding to the blank space on the blackboard.

"We need to finish writing the boundary mapping."

Sam glanced at the gap Chen Zhuo pointed out, and the obsessive determination of a programmer to solve bugs ignited in his eyes.

"Then seal it off!"

Sam stopped talking nonsense, turned around, took the yellow chalk, and directly stuck it onto Chen Zhuo's white chalk, beginning a new round of deduction and writing.

Allen also turned around, and the red chalk in his hand unceremoniously squeezed in, filling the gap in the physical quantity.

Chen Zhuo did not back down.

He stood among them, the white chalk in his hand falling continuously.

He no longer cared about the tension that physicists needed, nor the convergence that computer scientists needed; he only did one thing.

When Sam's algorithm shows signs of dimensional expansion, he coldly draws a cutoff line with his chalk.

When Allen's field equations attempt to cross the boundary, his matrix forcefully pulls them back to the range of constants.

There was no politeness whatsoever.

This is a brutal, interdisciplinary gladiatorial contest that completely abandons social rules.

The symbols on the blackboard grew more numerous and overlapping, and chalk dust permeated the space between the three of them.

David stood a few steps away, watching the three people arguing like madmen in front of the blackboard.

David slowly exhaled.

He had a premonition that in this unassuming little tavern, things that would never have crossed paths in this era were gradually taking shape in the hands of these three people.