The week's most famous demonstration is word arithmetic:
king − man + woman ≈ queen. Does the same trick work one
level up — start from a character, subtract a word, add a word,
and let the machine name the closest superhero? This is the week's play round: all
the TF-IDF, PPMI and topic-mixing the pages built gets compressed into one toy with
a lever. Pull the lever:
Same recipe as the Marvel map: a character's position is
the TF-IDF-weighted average of their fingerprint words (names removed) in our
Marvel-trained Word2Vec space. A fingerprint is just the handful of highest-TF-IDF
words on a single page, and names are dropped so the machine can't shortcut through
people's titles. Trade a word and the traded vectors have to come from the 3,791
words we shipped — anything outside the vocabulary would silently poison the
arithmetic, so those inputs get bounced with an error instead. The space itself was
trained on the full week's corpus, 727,440 tokens across all 303 pages, which is why
words like magic or hammer carry real Marvel meaning inside it.
The new direction is scored against all 303 character positions by
cosine — read it as a similarity dial, where 1 means "same
direction" and 0 means "unrelated"; it is not a percentage. The podium is who's
closest. If you already know the hero you expected, pick them too —
the machine reports their exact rank, cosine, and who got in the way. Nothing is
precomputed; every spin is live arithmetic.
Why does a dot that looks closest not have the highest number?
The map is a 2D projection — a PCA shadow — of the 100-dimensional space the
machine actually lives in: the x-axis runs along the traded direction, but the
y-axis squeezes the other 98 dimensions into one, and the cosine ranking also
rescales each character's length in a way the projection does not. So
“looks nearest” is not “is nearest”: the thin dashed
white line from the arrowhead points at the machine’s true #1,
and the numbers on the podium above are always the full-space truth.
Illustrative example —
made-up characters and numbers, not output from the machine.
What the 2D map shows
The dashed line points at the true nearest.
What the full 100D space says
#1Hero Btrue nearest (looks farther on the map)0.62
#2Hero Alooks closest on the map, ranked lower0.55
#3Hero C
0.41
#4Hero D
0.33
The projection compresses 100 dimensions
into 2, so visible distance can be misleading.
Every spin reads the same way. The podium is the machine's top five, with its best
guess highlighted. Beneath it, the moved-words line shows which of the
starting fingerprint words pulled toward each pole — the trade's geometry in
one sentence. If you named an expected hero, the verdict card reports their exact
rank out of 302, their cosine, and up to three pages that got in the way; that
ranking deliberately includes near-duplicate pages, so you can see the corpus's
own copy problem in the numbers. Click any podium row to recenter the whole
equation on that hero, and audit anything suspicious with the sentence drawer
underneath. The map above the podium redraws once per spin: its x-axis
is the traded direction, so the podium's dots herd toward the
arrowhead (in roughly rank order — cosines and projections disagree a
little), y is the widest spread left over. It is a projection, not a
ruler — the podium above, computed in the full 100-D space, is the ground
truth.
The obvious answer, measured. Run the default
Spider − man + woman round and set the expected hero
to Spider-Woman: she lands at #16 of 302
(cosine 0.49) — Wild Child, Spider-Girl and Father Time got there first,
and the blockers list puts the machine's excuse right in front of you.
Family is not a ranking. Spin
Hulk − man + woman and expect
She-Hulk — the canonical answer in family terms —
yet she comes in at #42, with Wild Child, Northstar and Jean
Grey standing in the way. The traded pole is one of a dozen fingerprint words;
family resemblance in this space has to be earned.
Then build your own round. Start from your favorite
character, trade a word for its conceptual opposite, and use the sentence
drawer to decide whether the machine was strange-right or strange-wrong. The
preset chips under the lever are safe starts; every other combination is
yours.
The biology round works. The default preset,
Spider − man + woman, puts Spider-Girl
right at the top of the family (with Wild Child, the machine's own punchline, at
#1) — and the moved-words row shows why: man-carrying
fingerprints pushed out, woman-adjacent ones pulled in.
Some rounds land in the right family.Luke Cage − street + magic crowns
Doctor Druid — not the Doctor you ordered, but a real
sorcerer from the same neighborhood of the space, with Doctor Strange himself
close behind. The analogies rarely name the exact hero; they reliably name the
right kind of hero.
And some rounds are honest failures. The echo trap:
Venom − aliens + technology returns
Eddie Brock — the direction barely escapes the symbiote and
re-lands on its host, because Venom's fingerprint is about being a
symbiote wearing a man. Storm − weather + mind
drifts to Satana, a mystic, instead of a telepath. The evidence drawer under each
spin is there exactly for rounds like these.
A character is reduced to a dozen weighted words, the space to 100 dimensions learned
from 727k tokens, and every round inherits the corpus's biases — the
war↔home lean that the map post caught. Treat the machine as a comedy writer
with a statistics degree: sometimes strangely right, always worth auditing.