Spicy Chicken and the Problem of Symbols | Scientific Reveries

An environment becomes conservative and rigid, loses its vitality, loses the children's playful joy and creativity, and loses interest in scientific issues themselves. I am afraid it all started with these heroes.

Brezhnev with medals

Written by | Carlo

I couldn't sleep at night. I planned to eat spicy chicken tomorrow, but I was afraid that it would be different from the one I had last time. I couldn't sleep any more. I sat up, turned on the light and checked my email. Unfortunately, I saw the acceptance letter sent by the PRL editor.

Dear xxx, we are pleased to inform you that your manuscript has been accepted for publication……

There is no way, work is chasing us day and night, even when we can’t sleep. I counted in my mind, from the time I started my postdoc to today, this is the 20th article. I have been reading and thinking about problems for ten years, averaging 2 articles per year, which is not too much. This may be a happy thing for others, so that they will be called "heavy", "big", "important progress in a certain field", "No. 1 in China, No. N in the world", and so on and so forth. I just feel that it is a mess and trivial, and I can only think about the spicy chicken that makes me lose sleep again.

Recently, I was fortunate enough to participate in an interesting work on the sign problem of fermion quantum many-body computing. It used simple calculations to point out that the sign problem of fermion Monte Carlo is actually related to whether there is a lower bound on the energy spectrum of a finite-scale system and how the ground state is degenerate. Under this understanding, the sign problem is not exponential but algebraic. Some correlated electron systems that everyone is concerned about now, such as the flat-band quantum Moore material model with long-range Coulomb interactions, can be solved at the algebraic computational complexity even if there are sign problems. This view does not require too complicated mathematics, nor does it require all kinds of mysterious appearances. It is simple and straightforward, but it is not advanced or mysterious enough. It cannot reach the level of "heavyweight", "big", or "first N".

So what is the level of "the first Nth" for ordinary people like us? In plain words, I'm afraid it's like this (Author's note: The following is Lu Xun's ridicule of Xu Zhimo's imitation of Baudelaire):

"…The merciful and cruel golden fly, spreading its fragrant angel's yellow wings, rises from the red sea of ​​​​nepeta and radish. The delicate ghost dogwood of the endless diamond heaven, dipped in half of the blue blood of the Big Dipper, writes the emerald green confession on the rotten dog lungs of Uncle Parrot! Don't you understand?"

"Oh! Oh, I am going to die! The fragrant, foul, bright and sharp arrowhead of the graceful and rippling Sirius shot into the charming, smooth, fluffy and cold bald head of the flat-nosed Aniu, and a dark and happy skinny mantis flew away. Ha, I will not die! There will be no end..."

In short, if I can't understand this kind of mystical science, I can only blame myself for being thick-skinned and lacking wisdom. So I suspected that I was feverish and dizzy due to insomnia, and immediately reflected on myself, and then I realized that I was just talking nonsense while wanting to eat spicy chicken; the "first and Nth" work done by the masters of mysticism under the inspiration of the sounds of nature, earth and man must be more magical. Unfortunately, I finally became a hard-core vulgar person who could not reach the magical realm. Who can I blame? I can only blame myself for being dull.

Take a deep breath, calm down, listen to the sounds near and far in the dark night, and your mind will start to run again. In recent years, although I cannot "get cold in the midst of the frenzy of singing, see the abyss in the sky, see nothing in the eyes of everything, and be saved in the hopelessness", I can "see the flaws under the skin of the unicorn, see the murderous intent in the nodding and flattery", and I am less likely to believe in good names and good tricks, and always feel that all of this may be "fake". Speaking of good names and good tricks, it reminds me of Brezhnev. I heard that this man is addicted to medals and is called the "honor master". If you hang all his medals on your body, it must be a bulletproof vest of excellent quality. This reminds me of the various management and scientific research institutions that have created large and small awards, titles and hats, instigating scientific researchers from young to old to spend a lot of time writing various application materials and lobbying various review experts, just to get these large and small awards and hats. In this environment, aren't the people who are cultivated some large and small honor masters? However, an environment that becomes conservative and rigid, loses its vitality, loses the children's playful joy and creativity, and loses interest in scientific issues themselves, will probably start with these heroes.

I still feel a little hot and dizzy. I can't think about it anymore. These worries about Xunzong caused by spicy chicken. I took a deep breath and calmed down. I found an old article written ten years ago and read it again. I found that some of the confusions I had when walking in the wilds of Swabia were still there. It started well but ended badly without any progress. I'd better read it again in another ten years. I took a shower and went to bed.

The Wilderness of Schwab

(Schwaebisch field)

The hurricane passed, and the weather was still hot. This morning, I sent my friend to the airport to fly to Germany, which reminded me of the fields in Swabia. I composed a poem to express my longing for them. Different regions, different seasons, but the feeling of loneliness is the same.

The sky is low over the fields of Swabia;

The gray clouds in the east are brewing another rain.

The sun was setting, burning through the clouds.

Revealing his yellowish-white face, a cloud of mist,

With atmosphere blue substrate.

The evening church bells call the evening prayers and the birds to their nests,

Behind a fence, a dog lies in deep thought.

Is it doubting too?

Is your work authentic?

Solving Green's function has been turned into a business;

No matter how strange or bizarre a newly discovered phenomenon may be,

In the dog's view,

It is better than it and my feet,

Black, solid earth.

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