Layer order — where it appears
Named by 34 essays across 7 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Which side is showing
Two earlier rungs asked what a folded object records about the pattern that made it, first from its outline and then from its complete layer order. Neither observation is one anybody can make. A photograph of duo paper carries the outline, the thickness and the colour showing at every point — and over the whole census the colour separates nothing at all.
Decided before the design
A colour change brings the reverse side of the paper to the front, and the usual account is that the two-colouring of the panels decides which panels are available. Measured on the site's own printed patterns, availability is not the constraint: both sides lie over more than ninety-nine per cent of most folded footprints. The other side is not scarce. It is under eight layers of paper.
No height to swap
A folded strip is a permutation of segments, and the smallest change a hand can make to it is a swap of two heights: 672 stackings, 560 of them isolated. A folded sheet has no height. Its layers are ordered by statements about which panels share ground, and on every printed pattern the search can finish, the answer is one stacking and no way out of it.
The rim lies over less
A folded sheet's boundary is usually discussed as the place the theorems stop applying. It is also visible in the pile: a panel carrying a raw edge of the paper lies over fewer of the other panels than one that does not, on every printed pattern that has both kinds — 18.0 against 21.0 on a Miura, 31.0 against 37.7 on a waterbomb tessellation, and never once the other way round.
The crumple keeps its options
Every crease pattern this site prints has exactly one folded state and not one of its thirty-nine available rearrangements is legal. A sheet creased by folding it at random four times has an average of 2.16 folded states, one of them has nine, and six of three hundred and thirty-five rearrangements are legal. The sheet nobody designed is the one with room left in it.
Which side arrives
A colour change is described as a choice: bring the reverse of the sheet to the front where the design wants it. On a pattern whose panels can be ordered, nobody chooses. The preliminary base shows the side that started face up over one part in a thousand of its own footprint, and two of its eight panels are the only ones in view at all.
Cutting a patch out of a plane
A tessellation is infinite and a sheet is not, so every picture of one is a decision about where the paper stops. Assembling whole twist units on a square and running the outstanding pleats to the rim puts 12, 18, 12 and 5 creases across other creases on four of five tilings; generating the pattern over a larger region and clipping it puts none. The panels then place exactly — and what is waiting behind the repair is a different refusal that could not be asked about before.
The order the refusals come in
This collection can say no to a crease pattern in five ways, and they cost wildly different amounts: a sweep over pairs of creases, a pass over the vertices, a walk over the panels, a pass over the crease list, and an enumeration of every ordering of the panels. Run all five over the thirty-three patterns in the four test populations and the cheapest refuses five, the most expensive refuses six, and the three in between refuse nothing at all.
The lettering nobody could draw
Two hundred letterings drawn at random from the rhombille tessellation patch, and not one of them agrees with itself. Two thousand, and still not one. The patch was left as an open question — and it has an answer, found in five hundred and sixty-one steps by a search that tests the arcs while it is choosing the letters instead of after it has chosen them all.
Which condition does the refusing
A search for a lettering carries five conditions: developability, Kawasaki, Maekawa, the big-little-big lemma, and the demand that the arcs the letters force have no circle in them. Run it on five tessellation patches and count what makes it take a letter back. The four everybody checks refuse nothing at all. Every single backtrack is the fifth.
Every move leaves the verdict
The only change a folder can make to a lettering without breaking it is to push one vertex through, flipping two creases at once. Try every such move on five tessellation patches, from two different letterings each: nineteen of two thousand nine hundred and sixty-four survive the conditions, and not one of the nineteen turns a lettering that agrees with itself into one that does not, or the other way about.
Twelve creases a micrometre long
A patch this collection has drawn for a long time carries a hundred and forty-two creases and a hundred and thirty arcs, and nobody had asked what the other twelve were. They are fragments left where the clip caught a pleat almost exactly at a corner — between one and nine micrometres long on a printed sheet, at one turn angle out of four, and it is the turn the collection prints.
The loop is in the rule
Of the forty-eight repeating rules that do not fold a grid corrugation, thirty-eight send four panels round in a circle and ten merely fail the count. Which is which can be read off three of the rule's six bits, without building the pattern, folding it or walking a single arrow — and the closed form agrees with the arrows on all sixty-four rules of both grid families.
Where a rule can close a loop
Three corrugation families have repeating rules whose letters send four panels round in a circle, and one has none at all. The one that has none is the one whose vertices are all of degree six — and the reason is that a straight line through a point carries a single letter under any repeating rule, while a strict alternation round six creases needs the two halves of that line to differ.
The test that never fires on a map
The cheapest refusal this collection has reads a crease list once and reports that no arrangement of the layers exists. Enumerate every labelling of every map from two panels to nine and it fires on four of the four hundred and fifty-four — all four on the largest map, none at all below it. On the oldest open problem in the subject, the cheap test has essentially nothing to say.
Rare is not hard
Crumple a sheet deeper and the share of its labellings that agree with themselves falls from thirty-four in forty to eleven. The number of steps a search needs to find one of them does not move at all: it stays at about one per panel, with no backtracking, the whole way down. How often an answer turns up at random and how much work it takes to find one are different quantities, and a crumpled sheet is where they come apart.
Refused at one lettering
Four of six quadrilateral meshes here have no arrangement of their nine panels — established by searching every ordering, at the labelling each mesh arrived with. Enumerate every labelling instead and two of the four fold perfectly well at a different one. What was reported as a fact about four meshes is a fact about two meshes and two labellings.
What a grid costs in circuits
Box-pleating puts every crease on a square grid, and a square grid is the shape with the most short circuits per panel that this collection draws. On the sixteen-by-sixteen grid a designer actually works on, one mountain-valley labelling in a hundred agrees with itself. A search still finds one in two hundred and sixty-one steps.
The difficulty was in the coin
One tessellation patch, one search, one test at every node — and a cost that runs from eighty-six steps to fifteen thousand depending on nothing but the starting seed. The heavy tail is real, it was measured carefully, and it was made by a single line of the search that nobody had thought of as a choice at all.
The order that is its own mirror
Trying a mountain first and trying a valley first are two different searches, and on a hundred and forty-two crease patterns they cost the same number of steps — not on average, not nearly, but identically, pattern for pattern. The reason is a symmetry of every condition the subject has, and it is four lines long.
One witness or forty
Taking the randomness out of a search made it three orders of magnitude cheaper in the worst case and cost it thirty-nine of its forty answers. The compromise everybody reaches for — randomise only the choices that cannot matter — recovers four of the forty on two patches and none on the other three, because the diversity was never where it looked.
A loop that goes somewhere
Every crease says which of its two panels lies above the other, and a loop in those statements is a proof that the pattern has no flat folded state. On a sheet with no edge that sentence is false. The loops of a periodic pattern carry a lattice step each, and a loop that ends one cell to the right is not a contradiction — it is a stack of paper with no bottom layer.
The lettering that was proved impossible
A search closed its whole tree on a glued square tessellation and reported that no mountain-and-valley assignment of it is consistent. Written onto ordinary patches of one, four and nine periods and handed to the four vertex theorems and a folded sheet rebuilt from scratch, the assignment it says cannot exist passes every check, on four tilings, up to fifteen hundred creases.
The bottom layer is at the rim
A hundred and sixty-nine panels of folded tessellation, and three of them have nothing underneath. All three touch the paper's edge, and the same is true on every tiling at every size measured. Which panel is at the bottom of a stack turns out to be a fact about where the sheet was cut rather than about the pattern, and the pattern itself has no bottom at all.
Pruning on proofs alone
A search that discards a branch it cannot prove wrong is not a search. Deciding whether a periodic pattern's layer relations really contradict themselves is far dearer than the disc's one-pass test, so the cheap test is asked first — it is sufficient, so it settles almost everything — and the expensive one runs only on what the cheap one rejects. Five of nine steps on a small cell, fifty thousand of fifty-seven on a large one.
The cost of proving something false
A search closing its whole tree is the strongest result this collection can produce, and on a glued tessellation it produces one that is wrong. What it costs to reach is three steps at one period, thirty-five at four, three thousand four hundred and fifty-five at nine, and more than two hundred thousand at sixteen — growing far faster than the cost of finding the lettering it says does not exist.
An order with no least element
Enumerating every way a folded pattern can be stacked works by building upward from a panel with nothing below it. The smallest square twist patch has exactly one such stacking and takes eleven thousand steps to find it. The pattern that patch was cut from has no panel with nothing below it at all, so the enumeration has nothing to start from — and the sheet is perfectly well stacked anyway.
A test imported without its hypothesis
The rule that a loop in a folded sheet's layer relations proves the pattern cannot fold arrives from the layer-ordering literature, where the sheet is a disc and the panels are finitely many. This collection took the rule and not the sentence that says which sheets it is about, then applied it for years to patterns whose whole interest is that they repeat.
A map with no edges
Counting the ways a rectangular map folds is the oldest open problem in the subject, and every version of it assumes the map has an edge. Join the map's opposite edges and the question changes shape: half the sizes have no folded state at all, and the ones that do have no bottom layer to count from.
The tube a map makes
Join one pair of a map's edges and the result is a tube — a real object, foldable in the hand, and neither the strip's problem nor the torus's. It has one loop that cannot be shrunk instead of two, it keeps its bottom layer because it keeps half its rim, and half its sizes are refused by a parity the flat map does not have.
A bottom layer on half a rim
The bottom of a folded stack lives at the paper's edge, which is why a sheet with no edge has an order with no least element. A cylinder has half a rim, so it has a bottom — and the count of panels that could be it falls with the rim, which makes the claim a measurement rather than a boundary case.
The arc that arrived twice
Which of two panels a crease calls its near one is decided by the order a face walk happened to number them, and the mirrored record is the same relation. Except on one sheet, where it is not — and that sheet turned out to be the one whose folded state comes back the other way up, which is how a duplicate in a graph became a diagnosis.
Two panels that are one panel
Paper cannot pass through paper, and every test for it compares pairs of panels. On a glued sheet two pieces of the drawing can be the same piece of paper — so a test that does not know the identification either reports a collision between a panel and itself, or misses one where the sheet meets itself round the loop.
One sheet down
A colour change has been priced by how deep the pile is — eight layers over every point of the preliminary base, six on a small Miura. Ordered, the piles say something else: wherever the other side of the paper lies under a point, it is the next sheet down on every pattern with one folded state, and never more than two down on any. And relettering the same creases cannot reach it. Of 112 letterings of the preliminary base that fold, every one shows either the printed face or the whole face turned the other colour; the square twist's eight only turn its face round.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
AssignmentPanelBoundaryPeriodicitySearchFolded stateLayer countTessellationExhaustive searchNon-crossing conditionSearch costConstraint