If I Were in Charge

If I were in charge of Python development, here are a few things I would do:

• Add (optional) tail recursion. This would make it easier to write pure functional code. It would also make it possible to effectively program in continuation passing style. Making tail recursion optional should placate those that feel that stack traces are important for debugging.
• Add macros. I am thinking of Lisp-like macros that do code transformation, not C-like macros that simply do token substitution. A good macro system would allow advanced users to create new syntactic forms for the language and provide a way to abstract boilerplate.
• Allow a way to use statements inside expressions, or beef up the expression syntax to have exception expressions, loop expressions, etc. This, too, would make it easier to write pure functional code.
• Optional end-of-block markers. These would allow you to automatically fix indentation errors and recover indentation when it is lost.
• Use true lexical scoping. Changing this might break legacy code that depends on the current scoping quirks, though.
• Use modern interpretation techniques to get the performance up to a more reasonable level. Performance doesn't matter that much, but Python is notably slow.
• Get rid of the global interpreter lock so that multithreading works better. Probably easier said than done.

I don't believe any of these necessarily involve fundamental changes to the language. They'd just make the language more flexible, though I'm sure many people would disagree with me.

But, perhaps for the best, they're not going to put me in charge.

Exception Handling for Control Flow

Back when I was taking a Software Engineering course we used a language called CLU. CLU was an early object-oriented language. A feature of CLU was that if you wrote your code correctly, the compiler could enforce completely opaque abstract data types. A good chunk of your grade depended on whether you were able to follow insructions and write your data types so that they were opaque.

CLU did not have polymorphism, but it did have discriminated type unions. You could fake simple polymorphism by using a discriminated type union as the representation of an opaque type. Methods on the opaque type would have to dispatch on the union subtype. Now to implement this correctly, you should write your methods to check the union subtype even if you “know” what it is. The course instructors looked specifically for this and would deduct from your grade if you didn't check.

One subproject in the course was a simple symbolic math system. You could put expressions in at the REPL, substitute values, and differentiate them. The core of the implementation was term data type that represented a node in an expression tree. A term was a type union of numeric constant, a symbolic variable, a unary expression, or a binary expression. Unary and binary expressions recursively contained subterms.

The term data type would therefore need four predicates to determine what kind of term it was. It would also need methods to extract the constant value if it was a constant, extract the variable name if it was symbolic, and extract the operator and subterms if it was a unary or binary expression. The way to use the data type was obvious: you'd have a four-way branch on the kind of term where each branch would immediately call the appropriate selectors. But if you wrote your selectors as you were supposed to, the first thing they should do is check that they are called on the appropriate union subtype. This is a redundant check because you just checked this in the four-way branch. So your code was constantly double checking the data. Furthermore, it has to handle the case should the check fail, even though the check obviously can never fail.

I realized that what I needed was a discrimination function that had four continuations, one for each subtype. The discrimination function would check the subtype and then call the appropriate continuation with the subcomponents of the term. This would eliminate the double checking. The code was still type safe because the discrimination function would only invoke the continuation for the correct subtype.

One way to introduce alternative continuations into the control flow is through exceptions. The discrimination function could raise one of four exceptions, each with the appropriate subcomponents as arguments. The caller would not expect a return value, but would have four catch handlers, one for each subtype. The caller would use the try/except syntax, but it would act like a switch statement.

The TA balked at this use of exceptions, but I appealed to the professor who saw what I was trying to do and approved.

There is some debate about whether exceptions should be used for control flow. Many people think that exceptions should only be used for “exceptional” situations and that it is poor form to use them for normal control flow. I think they are taking too narrow a view. Exceptions are a way to introduce alternative paths of control flow. One can use them to, for instance, handle an exceptional situation by jumping to a handler, but that's not the only way to use them.

Of course you should think hard about whether exceptions are the right way to introduce alternative control flow in your use case. Exception syntax is usually kind of klunky and you may need to rewrite the code to insert the exception handling at the right point. Readers of your code are likely to be surprised or baffled by the use of exceptions for control flow. There is often a significant performance penalty if an exception is thrown. But sometimes it is just the trick.

ECS in CLOS

Object systems make a natural fit for the game programming domain, but over time people have found that the object-oriented model provided by their favorite language doesn't always fit the use case. So developers have come up with “entity-component systems” (ECS) of varying complexity to fill the gap.

The basic idea is that a game object, called an “entity”, contains or refers to a set of “components” that define its behavior. Entities are too varied to be captured by a single class hierarchy, so we abandon inheritance in favor of composition. An entity that can be displayed on the screen has a “sprite” component, an entity that can move has “position” and “velocity” components, an entity that you can attack has a “hitbox” component and a “health” component. A entity that can attack you has an “attackbox” component. You can play mix and match the components to customize the behavior of the entity. We don't have a hierachy of components because each component can be added more or less independently of the others.

An ECS is an alternative or an augmentation to the built-in object system of a language, but it is an admission that the built-in object is insufficient.

CLOS provides an elegent way to implement an ECS without abandoning CLOS's built-in object system. We define a component as a “mixin” class that can be inherited from using multiple inheritance. We define mixin classes for each component, and then we define entity classes that inherit from the mixin classes. We would define a “sprite” mixin class, a “position” mixin class, etc. So the class of enemy entities would inherit from “sprite”, “position”, “velocity”, “hitbox”, “health”, and “attackbox” classes. A trap entity would inherit from “sprite”, “position”, and “attackbox” classes. A container entity that you could smash open would inherit from “sprite”, “position”, and “hitbox” classes. Etc.

Mixin classes aren't intended to be instantiated on their own, but instead provide slots to the classes that inherits from them. Furthermore, methods can be specialized on mixin classes so that instances derived from the mixin will respond to the method. This allows you to inherit from a mixin providing the particular desired behavior. For example, the “health” mixin class would provide a slot containing the entity's health and a “damage” method to decrease the health. Any entity inheriting from the “health” mixin will react to the damage method. Mixin classes can provide functionality similar to interfaces.

Mixin classes are an exception to Liskov's Substitution Principle, but they are a useful exception. Entities that inherit from a mixin do not have a “is-a” relationship with the mixin, but rather a “has-behavior-of” relationship. An entity inheriting from the “health” mixin is not a “health”, but it has the “health” behavior.

One feature of an ECS is that you can dynamically change the components of an object. For example, once an enemy is defeated, you can remove the “health” and “attackbox” components and add a “corpse” component. Is CLOS you could accomplish this by changing the class of the entity object to a class that doesn't have those mixins.

Of course care must be taken or you will end up with CLOS “soup”. But if you are careful, CLOS can provide a powerful and flexible system for implementing an ECS.

Why I Want Tail Recursion

The reason I want tail recursion is not to write loops (I can do that with a while loop), but to write in continuation passing style if I need to. Continuation passing style allows you to implement any control flow pattern you can imagine, not just the ones intrinsic to the language. You don’t want to use it all the time, but it’s a valuable fallback when you need some ad hoc advanced control flow. Without tail recursion, any non-trivial use of continuation passing style risks blowing the stack.

Iteration is just the special case of linear recursion that doesn’t accumulate state. 99 percent of the time, you know beforehand that you are looping and can use a looping construct, but sometimes you have the general case where whether you loop or not depends on the data at runtime. If you have tail recursion, you just write the code recursively and the tail recursion mechanism will turn it into a loop if it notices that you aren’t accumulating state.

If your language has lambda and tail recursion, it can implement any other control flow that might have been overlooked by the language designer. If it doesn’t, you're limited to the control flow the language designer bothered to implement.

Rewrite rules

I like rewrite rules. They are simple to understand and easy to implement. If you have a rewrite rule (or a set of them) that makes incremental progress in making an expression "simpler" in some sense, you can keep applying it (or them) repeatedly until you have finished the calculation.

If a function directly returns the result of calling another function, we say that the call is in "tail position". We can view this as a simple rewrite rule. Consider the fact-mul function which computes the factorial of a number n and multiplies it by another number m:

fact-mul (n, m) = n! * m

We can define two rewrite rules for this function. If n is 0, then the factorial is 1, so we just rewrite this as m. If n is not 0, we can rewrite this as fact-mul (n-1, n*m). This translates directly into Lisp:

(defun fact-mul (n m)
  (if (zerop n)
      m
     (fact-mul (- n 1) (* n m))))

The rewrite rule doesn't have to rewrite into the same function. For instance, we can rewrite odd? (x) to even? (x-1) and even? (x) to odd? (x-1):

(defun odd? (x)
  (if (zerop x)
      nil
      (even? (1- x))))

(defun even? (x)
  (if (zerop x)
      t  
      (odd? (1- x))))

Yes, this is bog-simple tail recursion, but somehow it seems even simpler to me if I think of it as a rewrite rule.

Even if you don't have tail recursion, or if you have disabled it, it still works, but the number of rewrites is limited by the stack depth.

If only ...

I have a problem with Lisp. It doesn’t do what I want. Whenever I write a Lisp program, I always find myself wanting new special forms that aren’t in the language. The object system almost never does exactly what I want. The control structures never cover all my use cases.

If only I could add new syntactic forms to the language. If only I could tweak the internals of the object system. If only I could add new kinds of control structure.

Oh, wait. I can.

Maybe machine (part 2)

At the end of 6.004, we had a contest for improving the performance of the Maybe machine. There was an 8-bit ALU included in the chip set we were given, so the logical thing to do was to incorporate it into the machine in place of the shift register. This would naturally improve the performance of arithmetic operations, but there were other reasons that the Maybe machine was slow.

One of the rules of the contest was that we were not allowed to change the clock speed. But the Maybe machine had a four phase clock. The first phase would address the device driving the bus, the second phase would connect it to the bus, the third phase would clock the receiving device, and the fourth phase would keep the data asserted to obey the hold time on the logic.

The four phase clock was technically unnecessary. We had built it in this manner to illustrate set-up and hold times for the bus, but the TTL chips we were using were specifically designed to be used on an open collector bus with no hold time, so you could actually clock the bus on every other phase rather than divide by four and still be within valid hardware specs. The fundamental clock speed was not changed, but the machine would run twice as fast.

The microcode word on the Maybe machine had four parts. The first part loaded the shift register from memory. The second part operated on the shift register. The third part wrote the shift register back to memory, and the fourth part was the next microcode address. But much of a typical microinstruction was wasted time. More often than not, the shift register was loaded from the last location it was written to, so it already contained the data it needed. The load cycle was often unnecessary. If you just left the data in the shift register, it would already be there for the next instruction. A memory to memory move involved a no-op on the shift register, which took clock cycles. Advancing to the next instruction took more clock cycles.

Instead of a four part microinstruction, I made a one-part microinstruction. True, this meant that I would occasionally need more microinstructions, but each one was smaller, and I could omit the no-ops, so I could accomplish the same amount in fewer clock cycles. I eliminated the next-instruction field by replacing the microcode address register with a counter.

The original Maybe machine had a two-address microcode — each instruction would specify a separate load and store address. Most people retained the wide microcode and could specify each input to the ALU independently. But I wanted to squeeze each microinstruction into 16 bits, so I turned the machine into a one-address machine with an accumulator. This made my microcode one quarter of the size, but it made it difficult to find enough bits in the microcode to accomplish all the tasks it needed to do. I didn’t have enough bits to directly address the accumulator, so I attached the accumulator to the output of the ALU. One ALU input came from the bus, the other was fed back from the accumulator. To load the accumulator, you had to pass the data through the ALU.

There weren’t enough bits for jump instructions, but I did a hack: I incremented the instruction address half way through the instruction cycle. This way, you could read the bits of the next instruction while you were still executing the current instruction. So you could do an unconditional jump by placing the target in the next instruction. There still weren’t enough bits for a conditional jump, so the microcode address space ended up being partitioned into sixteen segments and you could only conditionally jump within the same segment. To jump between segments you had to use an unconditional jump.

I obviously had to do a complete rewrite of the microcode. My friend Bob Baldwin helped me out by writing an assembler for the new microinstruction format.

The new microcode ran substantially faster than the original. When the contest came, my machine was clearly faster than the competition. Unfortunately, it crashed on the third benchmark and I ended up disqualified. I think it was a bug involving switching between the segments of microcode, but I never had the opportunity to debug it fully. I learned a hard lesson about keeping things simple.