Category: Mindset

Understanding Fever: A Physiological Defense Mechanism | February 17 2026, 09:00

I’ve only slightly (hopefully) gotten sick here and realized during the process that many people around me take pills for a minor onset of fever, considering it normal.

I’m sharing my understanding of the process, which should be very close to scientific. When an infection penetrates the body, foreign bacteria or viruses enter the bloodstream, which the immune system attacks. During the attack, signaling molecules are produced, the purpose of which is to declare a general alert throughout the body. Specifically, cytokines are produced, which also inform the brain (hypothalamus) that action is needed. Pyrogens (fever-inducing agents) include cytokines and external pathogens. The hypothalamus activates a fever through the synthesis of prostaglandins. Why: at a temperature of 38.5°C, the immune system becomes more active, antibodies are produced in larger amounts, microbial reproduction slows down, and some viruses do not reproduce.

If you consume, for example, Ibuprofen, it blocks the enzyme (COX) that creates these prostaglandins. Meaning, the pyrogens are still in the blood, but the brain “can’t hear” them and doesn’t raise the temperature.

There are only two cases when you should reduce fever: if you truly feel awful, have a severe headache, vomiting, etc. Unnecessary stress does not help the body. And if the temperature exceeds 39°C. At that point, the harm from high temperature outweighs the benefits. Even then, there are so many “buts” that a doctor should make the decision. For example, if the heart is problematic, these are special cases.

Oh, here’s something else interesting. Why when the temperature is high you feel “cold” and want to cover up. In the hypothalamus itself, there’s something like a thermostat, normally set to 36.6°C. When pyrogens arrive, it raises the temperature through prostaglandins, but since it’s the brain, it immediately cranks up its own “normal temperature” in its thermostat to, say, 38.5°C. As a result, a body temperature of 37°C suddenly feels low, and it feels like “it’s cold around, need to cover up.” Covering up is passive thermal insulation, and generally, it helps to more quickly raise the temperature to the target level. Later, when the temperature reaches 38.5°C, the chills may disappear (unless the hypothalamus further raises its thermostat). And when the temperature plateaus, around 38.5°C, covering up is harmful.

When the temperature starts to drop back, the internal thermostat switches to 36.6°C, and to cool down faster, the body produces sweat. So, if you’re sweating, it’s a sign of recovery.

(Well, what else is there to do at four in the morning, when because of all this, I can’t sleep)

From Camels to Bishops: The Fascinating Evolution of Chess Pieces | February 14 2026, 16:24

It all started with a question – why does the elephant ♗ have this notch? And in general, where is the elephant, and where is the bishop, and is this notch about the elephant or the bishop? Anyway, listen to what I dug up, there’s a lot of interesting stuff here.

Chess originates from India. There, this figure was initially called a camel. And their elephant was what we call a rook – which if you think about it, a rook is basically a boat – or in English, rook, which if you think about it in Persian, it means chariot.

The name “Tura”, which we often hear in colloquial speech, is a pure import from Europe. In French – tour. In Italian – torre. In Latin – turris. All of these mean the same thing: tower. When chess arrived in Europe, knights and monks didn’t really understand what a “battle chariot” was (they were out of fashion by then), but they knew very well what a siege tower was.

So, returning to the elephant and the notch.

The short answer – to distinguish it from a pawn. But there’s a long answer.

When chess came to Europe, the Indian camel was switched to the Catholic bishop, and thus the piece was named bishop. The notch supposedly symbolizes a miter – the high headgear of clergymen. That’s precisely why in English the piece is called bishop. Though to me, it’s just a mouth from the Muppet show.

Interestingly, in French, it’s le fou – the jester. In German, it’s Läufer – runner. In Greek – officer (Αξιωματικός). Why officer? I don’t know, but I dug up that in Chinese chess, xiangqi (象棋), the “elephant” piece is indicated and pronounced as xiàng (象). This character indeed means “elephant.” However, in Chinese history, there was a high state office called xiàng (相), usually translated as “chancellor,” “prime minister,” or “chief minister.” This is a different character, although the pronunciation coincides. Probably, the officer comes from here too.

The chess knight is almost a horse in all languages, only in English and a few others, it’s a knight (although, in German, for example, it’s Springer – jumper, and in Sicily – donkey).

So, in German, there is a jumper and a runner. And a little horse in German is actually a king.

I also learned that there are ready-made solutions for ANY chess endgame in which there are seven or fewer pieces on the board, regardless of the position, the composition of the remaining pieces, or possible moves. This information, known as endgame tables, currently occupies 18.4 terabytes.

from the comments: “The most interesting thing is that this week a multi-year work was completed, and there is now a ready solution for any position with 8 pieces or fewer (7 pieces was already about 12 years ago, but there’s a very big difference)”

My Ambitious 2026 Plan: From Galapagos Travel to Academic Achievements and Creative Pursuits | January 20 2026, 04:44

My plan for 2026:

– Travel to the Galápagos Islands, Ecuador for a week (summer)

– Finish and release a book on Information Retrieval (also summer, progressing slowly, first couple of chapters are already written. Already spent about 50-100 hours on this, the easy part)

– Release at least one scientific paper, probably on Data Mining (spring). Ideally, submit it somewhere to a journal (challenging). Already spent about 30 hours on this topic, a lot left to do.

– Make a step towards a PhD. Find professors, visit universities, understand the cost and assess my capabilities and resources.

– Continue studying fundamental mathematics and not die (linear algebra, calculus, probability theory, statistics, classical ML). In 2025, I spent about 200-400 hours on this topic.

– Continue studying Deep Learning and reach the “can teach” level. In 2025, I spent about 100-200 hours on this topic.

– Continue studying Data Mining/NLP.

– Update my book on RecSys, releasing version 2.0 with updates and corrections (autumn 2026)

– Make noticeable progress in painting and playing the piano. Specifically, learn Schubert’s serenade (Ständchen, D 889) completely and create at least one canvas that I wouldn’t be ashamed to give as a gift.

Unveiling Scientific Misnomers: A Cross-Cultural Exploration | January 14 2026, 04:46

Today I was surprised to learn that the Coriolis force is pronounced as CoriolIs force, not coriOlis force as we were taught in school. I started to investigate what else was wrong, and discovered something amazing.

It turns out what we called Gay-Lussac’s law is known as Charles’s Law in the rest of the world, and what we called Charles’s Law is known throughout the world as Gay-Lussac’s Law.

The Cartesian coordinate system here is Carthesian. Cartesius is just the Latinized name of René Descartes.

In our textbooks, the law of conservation of mass is called the Lomonosov-Lavoisier Law (what enters the chemical reaction = mass of the substances formed). In the rest of the world, it is exclusively the Law of Lavoisier (Lavoisier’s Law). Lomonosov got included here only because “whatever is taken from one body is added to another”.

Also, it turns out that if you have to explain Pythagoras’ theorem to someone in English, without a hint, it’s absolutely impossible to guess that it’s Pythagoras. Greek names are generally a mess. Thales here is pronounced as Teelis.

For some reason, in physics Roentgen is called RentgEnom, although it’s Röntgen with the emphasis on ö.

In Russia, a trapezoid is a quadrilateral with two sides parallel and two not. In the USA, our trapezoid is known as Trapezoid, and the word Trapezium here refers to a quadrilateral with no parallel sides at all. In the UK, it’s the opposite. Our trapezoid is Trapezium, and the “skewed” quadrilateral is Trapezoid.

The Unintended Consequences of Misguided Incentives | January 04 2026, 13:30

About KPIs. In English, there’s a concept called perverse incentive, “a harmful stimulus.” It occurs when you try to quash evil, but the methods become the perfect fertilizer for it. There’s a saying, “When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure” (Marilyn Strathern based on Goodhart’s Law).

A classic example is the “Cobra Effect.” In colonial India, the British decided to reduce the snake population and offered a reward for every head. The plan seemed as reliable as a Swiss watch until Indians began breeding cobras on farms for the “harvest.” When the authorities realized they were being duped and cancelled the payments, the farmers simply released the now-useless snakes into the wild. As a result, there were many more cobras than before the program started 🙂

In a similar way, the French in Hanoi battled rats by paying money for severed tails. The city became overrun with lively yet tailless rats: the Vietnamese cut off the “currency” and released the creatures to breed further, to not lose a stable income.

In the 19th century, archaeologists searching for dinosaur bones and ancient fossils paid locals for every piece found. As a result, resourceful diggers intentionally shattered whole, priceless skeletons into small pieces to earn more by submitting them separately. Science wept, but the KPI for “number of finds” soared. A similar tragedy occurred with the Dead Sea Scrolls: Bedouins cut the found scrolls into small pieces to sell each fragment separately.

In the USA, this malady struck infrastructure. When building the Transcontinental Railroad, the government paid Union Pacific subsidies for every mile laid. In Nebraska, engineers, in a single corrupt impulse, drew a huge loop—the Oxbow Route. The extra 9 miles of detour made no sense for logistics but brought the builders hundreds of thousands of dollars “out of thin air.”

But if the “loop” in Nebraska was just theft, then the mistakes of U.S. Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara were a tragedy. An aficionado of numbers and mathematical models, he tried to manage the Vietnam War like a Ford assembly line.

When General Edward Lansdale timidly noted that McNamara’s formulas lacked the variable “the spirit and will of the Vietnamese people,” the secretary noted it in pencil in his notebook. And then erased it. He said that if something cannot be measured, it’s unimportant. The main metric became the body count. Officers onsite, eager to curry favor, began labeling everyone indiscriminately as “enemies,” painting an illusion of imminent victory in Washington, while the actual situation spiraled into the abyss.

In science, there’s a radical principle similar to Occam’s Razor— “Newton’s Flaming Laser Sword” (also known as “Alder’s Razor”). Its essence: if something cannot be tested by experiment (or measurement), it’s not even worthy of discussion.

It sounds reasonable for physics, but in life, it’s a direct path to what sociologist Daniel Yankelovich called the degradation of perception. He described this as a descent through four steps:

1. First, we measure only what is easy to measure.

2. Then we ignore what is difficult to measure or requires qualitative assessment.

3. The third step—we decide that what cannot be measured is not so important.

4. And the final step—we declare that what cannot be measured actually does not exist.

And at that moment, we become blind. We view the world through the keyhole of metrics, while in the room behind the door, cobras are bred, dinosaur bones are broken, and wars are lost.