News from Microsoft Research Faculty Summit 2013

Measuring the maximal commuting subset of observables uniquely determines the pure state of a quantum system (recently proved Kadison-Singer Conjecture). More here and here. I guess I always assumed this was true, without knowing it was an (until recently) unproved conjecture! Strange that I learned this at a Microsoft Research meeting :-)

Other stuff: (conference site, with videos)

MSR spends as much as the NSF in support of computer science-related research!

Bill Gates referred to "polymathic individuals who can understand things across multiple boundaries" as important drivers of innovation ;-)

Speech recognition had a big breakthrough in the last few years due to deep neural nets ("beyond shallow HMMs ..."). See this video.

Exponential growth in computing power (Moore's Law, considered more generally than just counting transistors) is in trouble, as predicted from simple considerations of quantum effects and feature size. Even the multi core workaround is running out of steam ("Dennard scaling").

Cancer genomics hub at UCSD supercomputer center -- storage cost $100/y/genome at 50k genomes (currently at 10k?). 3GB/s outbound. (Cancer genomics slides: Haussler, UCSC.) Data costs > sequencing costs. David Patterson: Using Big D to fight the Big C. "Biologists are mean. CS people are nice - we share data and code... A bunch of sociological issues we have to fix here." ;-)  FaST-LMM -- epistasis GWAS w/Wellcome Trust data, 60B pairs of SNPs (Heckerman).

Andrew Ng: unsupervised deep learning (video), tutorial. $100k GPU farm beats 16,000 CPU Google project that independently evolved a "cat neuron" :-)

Mac to Windows ratio among participants' laptops roughly 10 to 1. (Ratio moderated a bit by MSR employees ;-)


Bill Gates Q&A:

Machine translation

In a 2010 post, I wrote:

Machines and bilingualism: I had a terrifying thought the other day. I would guess that at 90 percent confidence level machine translation and voice recognition will be good enough in 20 years that people will be able to communicate pretty well across most language barriers using cheap and unobtrusive devices. If so, is it worth all this effort to make sure my kids are bilingual?

I say it's terrifying because of the significant effort we're expending on our Bilingual Kids Project -- including relocating to Taiwan for this sabbatical. Another point of clarification: I'm not saying in 20 years we'll have AI (far from it). But something that translates basic phrases and simple content (surely we'll have that: Moore's law, massive corpora of translated text, statistical machine learning, yada yada) would reduce significantly the value of all but the most sophisticated language skills.

This video shows the current state of the art from Microsoft Research. See the realtime speech to speech (English to Chinese) demo starting at just before 6 minutes in. The demo could have been faked a bit -- Rashid might be sticking to a prepared script -- but let's hope it was legitimate.

Paul Allen: Idea Man

The excerpts below are from Paul Allen's new memoir Idea Man.

On Bill Gates and Harvard's notorious Math 55. What professor is Gates talking about below? The professor who currently teaches Math 55 is invited to comment -- anonymously, of course ;-)

... I offered a word to the wise: “You know, Bill, when you get to Harvard, there are going to be some people a lot better in math than you are.”

“No way,” he said. “There’s no way!”

And I said, “Wait and see.”

I was decent in math, and Bill was brilliant, but by then I spoke from my experience at Washington State. One day I watched a professor cover the blackboard with a maze of partial differential equations, and they might as well have been hieroglyphics from the Second Dynasty. It was one of those moments when you realize, I just can’t see it. I felt a little sad, but I accepted my limitations. I was O.K. with being a generalist.

For Bill it was different. When I saw him again over Christmas break, he seemed subdued. I asked him about his first semester, and he said glumly, “I have a math professor who got his Ph.D. at 16.” The course was purely theoretical, and the homework load ranged up to 30 hours a week. Bill put everything into it and got a B. When it came to higher mathematics, he might have been one in a hundred thousand students or better. But there were people who were one in a million or one in 10 million, and some of them wound up at Harvard. Bill would never be the smartest guy in that room, and I think that hurt his motivation. He eventually switched his major to applied math.

On Bill and Steve Ballmer conspiring to steal Allen's stake in the company while he was ill with cancer.

One evening in late December 1982, I heard Bill and Steve speaking heatedly in Bill’s office and paused outside to listen in. It was easy to get the gist of the conversation. They were bemoaning my recent lack of production and discussing how they might dilute my Microsoft equity by issuing options to themselves and other shareholders. It was clear that they’d been thinking about this for some time.

Unable to stand it any longer, I burst in on them and shouted, “This is unbelievable! It shows your true character, once and for all.” I was speaking to both of them, but staring straight at Bill. Caught red-handed, they were struck dumb. Before they could respond, I turned on my heel and left.

I replayed their dialogue in my mind while driving home, and it felt more and more heinous to me. I helped start the company and was still an active member of management, though limited by my illness, and now my partner and my colleague were scheming to rip me off. It was mercenary opportunism, plain and simple. That evening, a chastened Steve Ballmer called my house and asked my sister Jody if he could come over. “Look, Paul,” he said after we sat down together, “I’m really sorry about what happened today. We were just letting off steam. We’re trying to get so much stuff done, and we just wish you could contribute even more. But that stock thing isn’t fair. I wouldn’t have anything to do with it, and I’m sure Bill wouldn’t, either.”

I told Steve that the incident had left a bad taste in my mouth. A few days later, I received a six-page, handwritten letter from Bill. Dated December 31, 1982, the last day of our last full year together at Microsoft, it contained an apology for the conversation I’d overheard. And it offered a revealing, Bill’s-eye view of our partnership: “During the last 14 years we have had numerous disagreements. However, I doubt any two partners have ever agreed on as much both in terms of specific decisions and their general idea of how to view things.”

Bill was right. Our great string of successes had married my vision to his unmatched aptitude for business. But that was beside the point. Once I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s, my decision became simpler. If I were to relapse, it would be pointless—if not hazardous—to return to the stresses at Microsoft. If I continued to recover, I now understood that life was too short to spend it unhappily.

Bill’s letter was a last-ditch effort to get me to stay, and I knew he believed he had logic on his side. But it didn’t change anything. My mind was made up.

In January, I met with Bill one final time as a Microsoft executive. As he sat down with me on the couch in his office, I knew that he’d try to make me feel guilty and obliged to stay. But once he saw he couldn’t change my mind, Bill tried to cut his losses. When Microsoft incorporated, in 1981, our old partnership agreement was nullified, and with it his power to force me to accept a buyout based on “irreconcilable differences.” Now he tried a different tack, one he’d hinted at in his letter. “It’s not fair that you keep your stake in the company,” he said. He made a lowball offer for my stock: five dollars a share.

... “I’m not sure I’m willing to sell,” I countered, “but I wouldn’t even discuss less than $10 a share.”

“No way,” Bill said, as I’d suspected he would. Our talk was over. As it turned out, Bill’s conservatism worked to my advantage. If he’d been willing to offer something close to my asking price, I would have sold way too soon.

It's all about the brainpower

Bill Gates is IQ-obsessed. These days you can add Google and a host of hedge funds and startups to Goldman as the main competitors for Bill's coveted brainpower.

WSJ: (Rich Kaarlgard) Eleven years ago, while editing a tech magazine whose future would include boom and bye-bye, I caught a fantastically lucky break. I got to spend a week on the road with Bill Gates. ...

I'll never forget flying with him on the 11:30 p.m. shuttle from Logan to LaGuardia. Mr. Gates sat unrecognized, row 27, a lank-haired fellow in a rugby shirt and khakis. His eyes were glued to a book. His new friend Warren Buffett, you see, had lent him a copy of "The Intelligent Investor," Benjamin Graham's classic. Not only was pupil Gates reading it on a midnight flight, he was tapping notes into his laptop! F. Scott Fitzgerald was right. The rich are different.

Halfway through the flight, Mr. Gates closed the book, shut his computer off and we talked. Out of nowhere, he told me that he had recently figured out who his competition was. It was not Apple, Lotus or IBM. He waited a couple of beats. "It's Goldman Sachs."

"Is this a scoop? Is Microsoft getting into investment banking?"

"No," he said. "I mean the competition for talent. It's all about IQ. You win with IQ. Our only competition for IQ is the top investment banks." During that trip, I must have heard Mr. Gates mention "IQ" a hundred times.

The obsession with smarts is embedded deep in Mr. Gates's thinking and long ago was institutionalized at Microsoft. Apply for a job and you'll face an oral grilling that probes for IQ. It is oral and informal because of Griggs v. Duke Power, the 1971 Supreme Court ruling that banished written IQ tests and "tests of an abstract nature" from job applications. But Microsoft knows what it wants. It wants IQ. And Microsoft always has been savvy at getting what it wants.