C++ is famous for relegating important functionality often built into the language to its standard library1. C++11 added a number of very useful class templates intended to make generic programming easier. By far the most complicated is std::tuple<>, which is literally just a tuple.
If you click through to Godbolt, you’ll see it doesn’t: this feature doesn’t exist in C++2 (normally, you’d do std::tuple<Types...>, but we need to write down std::tuple somehow). The usual approach is to use some kind of recursive template, which can tend to generate a lot of code.
However, C++ does actually have tuples built into the language, as a C++11 feature… lambdas! As an extra challenge, we’re going to try to minimize the number of templates that the compiler needs to instantiate; std::tuple is famously bad about this and can lead to very poor build performance.
For our tuple library type, we need to solve the following problems:
How do we implement std::tuple() and std::tuple(args...)?
Alright, let’s back up. In C++11, we got lambdas, which are expressions that expand to anonymous functions. In C++, lambdas are closures, meaning that they capture (“close over”) their environment.
This is a lambda in action:
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The [x] syntax is the captures. To represent a lambda, C++ creates an anonymous, one-time-use class. It has the captures as members (whether they be references or values) and provides the necessary operator(). In other words, this is approximately the desugaring:
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Note the consts in _Lambda. By default, captured values are stored inline but marked const, and the operator() member is also const. We can remove that specifier in both location with the mutable keyword:
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Lambdas can capture anything from their scope. In addition to values, they will capture any types visible from that location. This means that, if constructed in a function template, the generated class will effectively capture that template’s arguments. Thus:
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This will create a new anonymous class capturing an arbitrary number of arguments, depending on the parameters passed to CaptureMany(). This will form the core of our tuple type.
We don’t want to leak the lambda into the template parameters of our tuple class, so we need it to be strictly in terms of the class’s template parameters. This is straightforward with decltype.
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Regardless of what our C++ compiler calls the type, we are able to use it as a field. However, a problem arises when we try to write down the main “in-place” constructor, which consists of the usual forwarding-reference and std::forward boilerplate3:
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The initialization for lambda_ doesn’t work, because the return type of TupleLambda is wrong! The compiler is required to synthesize a new type for every specialization of TupleLambda, and so TupleLambda<Types...>() and TupleLambda<Args...> return different types!
This requires a major workaround. We’d still like to use our lambda, but we need to give it a type that allows us to construct it before calling the constructors of Types.... We can’t use Types..., so we’ll do a switcheroo.
The following is boilerplate for a type that can hold a T in it but which can be constructed before we construct the T.
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There’s a lot going on here. Let’s break it down.
alignof(T) ensures that even though the only member is a char array, this
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The constructor does nothing; the T within is only constructed when Init() is called with T’s constructor arguments.
Init() forwards its arguments just like our non-functional constructor for Tuple. This time, the arguments get sent into T’s constructor via placement-new. Placement-new is special syntax that allows us to call a constructor directly on existing memory. It’s spelled like this: new (dest) T(args);.
operator*/operator-> turn StorageFor into a smart pointer over T, which will be useful later. The signatures of these functions aren’t important; it’s library boilerplate.
StorageFor<T> will be the types that our lambda captures, making it possible to give it a consistent type without knowing which arguments we’ll use to initialize the contents.
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But now we’re in another bind: how do we call the constructors? Even with placement-new, we can’t reach into the lambda’s data, and the layout of a lambda is compiler-specific. However, that’s from the outside. What if we accessed the lambda from the inside?
We modify the lambda to itself be generic and take a pack of forwarding references as arguments, which we can then pass into Init():
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That’s a serious mouthful. Let’s break it down.
[args...] (auto&&... init_args) { declares a generic lambda. This means that there’s an imaginary template <typename... Args> on the operator() of the generated class. Because the argument type is Args&&, and Args is a template parameter of operator(), init_args is a pack of forwarding references. This is a C++14 feature.
Init(std::forward<decltype(init_args)>(init_args)) is a forwarded constructor argument. Nothing new here.
The outer (<expr>, ...) that the placement-new is wrapped in is a pack fold, which uses an operator to fold a pack of values into one. For example, (foo + ...) computes the sum of all elements in a pack. In our case, we’re folding with the comma operator ,. All this does is discard the elements of the pack (which are all void, regardless). This is a C++17 feature4
Taken together, this causes the constructor of each type in Types... to be run on the respective StorageFor<T> captures by the lambda when TupleLambda() was originally called. The double-nesting of a function-within-a-function can be a bit confusing: TupleLambda() is not what calls T’s constructor!
Actually, this won’t compile because Init() is not const, but the lambda’s operator() is. This is easily fixed by adding the mutable keyword:
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We also need to mark the lambda_ parameter as mutable so that const functions can all it. We’ll just need to be careful we don’t actually mutate through it. This is necessary because we cannot (at least until C++23) write to the captures of a lambda and still be able to call it in const contexts:
We have std::tuple(args) but we still need std::tuple. But, we’ve already used up our one chance to touch the captures of the lambda… we can’t write down a lambda that has both a variadic operator() (many generic arguments) and a niladic operator() (no arguments).
But we can make it take a lambda itself! In this case, all that our “storage lambda” does now is call a callback with a pack of references. Calling lambda_() effectively “unpacks” it:
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The decltype(auto) bit simply ensures that if callback returns a reference, then so does lambda_. By default, lambdas return auto, which will never deduce a reference (you’d need to write auto&, which conversely cannot deduce a value). Instead of using “auto deduction”, we can use the special decltype(auto) type to request “decltype deduction”, which can deduce both references and non-references. This comes in handy later.
Now we can refactor the two constructors to call lambda_ with different lambda arguments. Our original constructor will pass in the original body of lambda_, which calls Init() with args. The new constructor will simply call Init() with no args.
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We need to implement the destructor too, since StorageFor<T> will not destroy the T we’re squirreling away inside, but this is still really easy:
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Copy and move are similar, but require interleaving two calls of lambda_:
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Copy/move assignment are basically identical; I’ll leave those as an exercise!
This gives us our complete set of constructors. We’ll throw in deduction guides5 to avoid needing to implement make_tuple:
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This works up until we try to write Tuple tup2 = tup; Overload resolution will incorrectly route to the variadic constructor rather than the copy constructor, so a little bit of SFINAE is needed to grease the compiler’s wheels.
Keeping in the spirit of avoiding extra instantiation logic, we’ll use placement-new inside of a decltype as an ersatz std::enable_if:
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This verifies that we can actually construct a Types from a Args (for each member of the pack). Because this is occurring in an unevaluated context, we can safely placement-new on nullptr. All new expressions produce a pointer value, and a comma-fold produces the last value in the fold, so the overall decltype() is T*, where T is the last element of the pack.
This decltype() is the type of a non-type template parameter, which we can default to nullptr, so the user never notices it.
Ok. We have all of our constructors. The code so far is at this footnote: 6.
std::apply(f, tup) is a relatively straight-forward function: call f by splatting tup’s elements int f as a pack. Because of how we’ve implemented lambda_, this is actually super simple:
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(We’re possibly returning a reference, so note the decltype(auto)s.)
lambda_ is basically a funny std::apply already, just with the wrong arguments. The *places fixes this up. With some repetition, we can write down const- and &&-qualified overloads. We can even introduce a free function just like the one in the standard library:
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The other unpacking operation, std::get, is trickier. This is usually where things get really hairy, because we need to get the ith type out of the lambda. There are many approaches for doing this, most of which involve recursive templates. I’ll present two approaches that don’t use recursive templates directly, but which can still be a bit slow, built-time-wise.
std::make_index_sequence is a funny type-level function that produces a pack of integers from 0 to i, given just i. This is usually fast, since most compilers will have intrinsics for doing it without needing to instantiate i templates. For example, in Clang, this is __make_integer_seq, which is used by libc++.
Thus, we can turn the problem of implementing get with a single i to implementing get with a pack:
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We can then use this pack to cook up just the right lambda to grab just the capture we want out of lambda_. Specifically, we want a lambda that picks out its ith argument. Basically we want to write something with arguments like (auto..., auto, auto...), but somehow use the less_than_i pack to control the size of the first argument pack.
We can whip up a class template for this:
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Sink<n> is a type that is implicitly convertible from anything, and has a dummy parameter we can key an expansion off-of. Hence GetImpl() looks like this:
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We can then provide the type of the ith element as a member type alias, using decltype:
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(The template keyword isn’t doing anything interesting; it’s just for syntactic disambiguation.)
We can, as usual, repeat implementations for const/&& qualifiers.
If we’re ok being Clang-specific, Clang just gives us a magic type function that selects out of a pack. This means we can implement TupleType in terms of it:
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Then, we can use void* to swindle the type system, since we don’t need to go to any effort to learn the ith type now:
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(We’re returning a reference, so again note the decltype(auto).)
With that we have all of the functions we set out to implement. For kicks, we can add the relevant std specializations to enable structured bindings on our type (along with our get member function):
So, the end result is most of an implementation of std::tuple<>. Let’s see how well it builds. We’re going to compile the following code for n from 0 to 150 and measure how long it takes.
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And here’s the results on Clang 11 (what I had on-hand) on my Zen 2 machine:
We seem to beat libstdc++ by a factor of around 2, but libc++ appears to have us beat. This is because libc++ makes even more aggressive use of Clang’s intrinsics than we did, allowing them to do significantly better. Interestingly, using the builtin makes us perform worse. I’m actually not sure why this is.
But ultimately, this wasn’t really about beating libc++: it’s about having fun with C++ templates.
Arguably, because WG21, the body that standardizes C++, is bad at language evolution, but that’s not why we’re here. ↩
Basically every in-place constructor in C++ looks like this. It takes a variadic pack as a template parameter, and then takes && if that as its arguments. Args&& here is a forwarding reference, which means it is T& or T&& depending on the callsite. This overrides the usual template deduction rules, and is important for making sure that e.g. std::move propagates correctly.
We cannot write Types&& instead, because that would not be a forwarding reference. T&& refers to a forwarding reference argument only on a function template where T is a parameter of that function and not an enclosing entity. ↩
If C++17 is too much to ask, polyfilling isn’t too hard. Instead of (<expr>, ...);, we can write (void)(int[]){(<expr>, 0)...};, even if <expr> is a void expression. (<expr>, 0) is still a comma operator call, which discards the result of <expr> as before. The pack expands into an array of integers (a int[]), which we then discard with (void). This still has the behavior of evaluating <expr> once for each element of the pack. ↩
A deduction guide is a special piece of syntax introduced in C++17 intended to aid deducing the types of constructor calls. When we write std::tuple(a, b, c), the template arguments of std::tuple are deduced. However, the constructor call may not give sufficient information to properly deduce them, because we may be calling a constructor template.
The syntax looks like this:
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This tells the compiler that when it encounters a call to a constructor of MyTypes that deduces the given types as its arguments, it should deduce the type after the -> for the template arguments of MyType, which can be arbitrary template argument expressions. ↩
Alkyne is a scripting language I built a couple of years ago for generating configuration blobs. Its interpreter is a naive AST walker1 that uses ARC2 for memory management, so it’s pretty slow, and I’ve been gradually writing a new evaluation engine for it.
This post isn’t about Alkyne itself, that’s for another day. For now, I’d like to write down some notes for the GC I wrote3 for it, and more generally provide an introduction to memory allocators (especially those that would want to collude with a GC).
This post is intended for people familiar with the basics of low-level programming, such as pointers and syscalls. Alkyne’s GC is intended to be simple while still having reasonable performance. This means that the design contains all the allocator “tropes,” but none of the hairy stuff.
My hope is readers new to allocators or GCs will come away with an understanding of these tropes and the roles they play in a modern allocator.
Thank you to James Farrell, Manish Goregaokar, Matt Kulukundis, JeanHeyd Meneide, Skye Thompson, and Paul Wankadia for providing feedback on various drafts of this article. This was a tough one to get right. :)
The Alkyne GC is solving a very specific problem, which allows us to limit what it actually needs to do. Alkyne is an “embeddable” language like JavaScript, so its heap is not intended to be big; in fact, for the benefit of memory usage optimizations, it’s ideal to use 32-bit pointers (a 4 gigabyte address space).
The heap needs to be able to manage arbitrarily-large allocations (for lists), and allocations as small as eight bytes (for floats4). Allocation should be reasonably quick, but due to the size of the heap, walking the entire heap is totally acceptable.
Because we’re managing a fixed-size heap, we can simply ask the operating system for a contiguous block of that size up-front using the mmap() syscall. An Alkyne pointer is simply a 32-bit offset into this giant allocation, which can be converted to and from a genuine CPU pointer by adding or subtracting the base address of the heap.
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The OS won’t actually reserve 4GB of memory for us; it will only allocate one system page (4KB) at a time. If we read or write to a particular page in the heap for the first time, the OS will only then find physical RAM to back it5.
Throughout, we’ll be working with this fixed-size heap, and won’t think too hard about where it came from. For our purposes, it is essentially a Box<[u8]>, but we’ll call it a Heap<[u8]> to make it clear this memory we got from the operating system (but, to be clear, the entire discussion applies just as well to an ordinary gigantic Box<[u8]>)
The Alkyne language does not have threads, so we can eschew concurrency. This significantly reduces the problems we will need to solve. Most modern allocators and garbage collectors are violently concurrent by nature, and unfortunately, much too advanced for one article. There are links below to fancier GCs you can poke around in.
To build a garbage collector, we first need an allocator. We could “just”6 use the system heap as a source of pages, but most garbage collectors collude with the allocator, since they will want to use similar data structures. Thus, if we are building a garbage collector, we might as well build the allocator too.
An allocator, or “memory heap” (not to be confused with a min-heap, an unrelated but wicked data structure), services requests for allocations: unique leases of space in the managed heap of various sizes, which last for lifetimes not known until runtime. These allocations may also be called objects, and a heap may be viewed as a general-purpose object pool.
The most common API for a heap is:
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Originally the examples were in C++, which I feel is more accessible (lol) but given that Alkyne itself is written in Rust I felt that would make the story flow better.
This is the “malloc” API, which is actually very deficient; ideally, we would do something like Rust’s Allocator, which requires providing size and alignment to both the allocation and deallocation functions.
Unfortunately7, this means I need to explain alignment.
“Alignment” is a somewhat annoying property of a pointer. A pointer is aligned to N bytes (always a power of 2) if its address is divisible by N. A pointer is “well-aligned” (or just “aligned”) if its address is aligned to the natural alignment of the thing it points to. For ints, this is usually their size; for structs, it is the maximum alignment among the alignments of the fields of that struct.
Performing operations on a pointer requires that it be aligned8. This is annoying because it requires some math. Specifically we need three functions:
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(Exercise: prove these formulas.)
For the rest of the article I will assume I have these three functions available at any time for whatever type of integer I’d like (including raw pointers which are just boutique9 integers).
Also we will treat the Heap<[u8]> holding our entire heap as being infinitely aligned; i.e. as a pointer it is aligned to all possible alignments that could matter (i.e. page-aligned, 4KB as always). (For an ordinary Box<[u8]>, this is not true.)
Allocating memory is actually very easy. Arenas are the leanest and meanest in the allocator food chain; they simply don’t bother to free any memory.
This means allocation is just incrementing a cursor indicating where the hitherto-unallocated memory is.
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Our allocator is as simple as return ptr++;.
This is straightforward to implement in code:
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Arenas are very simple, but far from useless! They’re great for holding onto data that exists for the context of a “session”, such as for software that does lots of computations and then exits (a compiler) or software that handles requests from clients, where lots of data lives for the duration of the request and no longer (a webserver).
They are not, however, good for long-running systems. Eventually the heap will be exhausted if objects are not recycled.
Making this work turns out to be hard[citation-needed]. This is the “fundamental theorem” of allocators:
From here, we will gradually augment our allocator with more features to allow it to service all kinds of requests. For this, we will implement four common allocator features:
Blocks and a block cache.
Free lists.
Block merging and splitting.
Slab allocation.
All four of these are present in some form in most modern allocators.
The first thing we should do is to deal in fixed-size blocks of memory of some minimum size. If you ask malloc() for a single byte, it will probably give you like 8 bytes on most systems. No one is asking malloc() for single bytes, so we can quietly round up and not have people care. (Also, Alkyne’s smallest heap objects are eight bytes, anyways.)
Blocks are also convenient, because we can keep per-block metadata on each one, as a header before the user’s data:
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To allow blocks to be re-used, we can keep a cache of recently freed blocks. The easiest way to do this is with a stack. Note that the heap is now made of Blocks, not plain bytes.
To allocate storage, first we check the stack. If the stack is empty, we revert to being an arena and increment the cursor. To free, we push the block onto the stack, so alloc() can return it on the next call.
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This allocator has a problem: it relies on the system allocator! Heap came directly from the OS, but Vec talks to malloc() (or something like it). It also adds some pretty big overhead: the Vec needs to be able to resize, since it grows as more and more things are freed. This can lead to long pauses during free() as the vector resizes.
Cutting out the middleman gives us more control over this overhead.
Of course, no one has ever heard of a “free stack”; everyone uses free lists! A free list is the cache idea but implemented as an intrusive linked list.
A linked list is this data structure:
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This has the same problem of needing to find an allocator to store the nodes. An intrusive list avoids that by making the nodes part of the elements. The Header we reserved for ourselves earlier is the perfect place to put it:
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In particular we want to make sure block are in doubly-linked lists, which have the property that any element can be removed from them without walking the list.
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We also introduce a List container type that holds the root node of a list of blocks, to give us a convenient container-like API. This type looks like this:
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We should also make it possible to ask a block whether it is in any list, and if so, remove it.
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Using these abstractions we can upgrade BlockCache to FreeList. We only need to rename free_stack to free_list, and make a one-line change:
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Hooray for encapsulation!
This is a very early malloc() design, similar to the one described in the K&R C book. It does have big blind spot: it can only serve up blocks up to a fixed size! It’s also quite wasteful, because all allocations are served the same size blocks: the bigger we make the maximum request, the more wasteful alloc(8) gets.
The next step is to use a block splitting/merging scheme, such as the buddy system. Alkyne does not precisely use a buddy system, but it does something similar.
Alkyne does not have fixed-size blocks. Like many allocators, it defines a “page” of memory as the atom that it keeps its data structures. Alkyne defines a page to be 4KB, but other choices are possible: TCMalloc uses 8KB pages.
In Alkyne, pages come together to form contiguous, variable-size reams (get it?). These take the place of blocks.
Merging and splitting makes it hard to keep headers at the start of reams, so Alkyne puts them all in a giant array somewhere else. Each page gets its own “header” called a page descriptor, or Pd.
The array of page descriptors lives at the beginning of the heap, and the actual pages follow after that. It turns out that this array has a maximum size, which we can use to pre-compute where the array ends.
Currently, each Pd is 32 bytes, in addition to the 4KB it describes. If we divide 4GB by 32 + 4K, it comes out to around four million pages (4067203 to be precise). Rounded up to the next page boundary, this means that pages begin at the 127102nd 4K boundary after the Heap<[u8]> base address, or an offset of 0x7c1f400 bytes.
Having them all in a giant array is also very useful, because it means the GC can trivially find every allocation in the whole heap: just iterate the Pd array!
So! This is our heap:
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Each one of those little Pds looks something like this:
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prev and next are the intrusive linked list pointers used for the free lists, but now they are indices into the Pd array. The other fields will be used for this and the trope that follows.
Given a pointer into a page, we can get the corresponding Pd by align_down()‘ing to a page boundary, computing the index of the page (relative to the heap base), and then index into the Pd array. This process can be reversed to convert a pointer to a Pd into a pointer to a page, so going between the two is very easy.
I won’t cover this here, but Alkyne actually wraps Pd pointers in a special PdRef type that also carries a reference to the Heap; this allows implementing functions like is_linked(), unlink(), and data() directly.
I won’t show how this is implemented, since it’s mostly boilerplate.
There is one giant free list that contains all of the reams. Reams use their first page’s descriptor to track all of their metadata, including the list pointers for the free list. The len field additionally tracks how many additional pages are in the ream. gc_bits is set to 1 if the page is in use and 0 otherwise.
To allocate N continuous pages from the free ream list:
We walk through the free ream list, and pick the first one with at least N pages.
We “split” it: the first N pages are returned to fulfill the request.
The rest of the ream is put back into the free list.
If no such ream exists, we allocate a max-sized ream10 (65536 pages), and split that as above.
In a sense, each ream is an arena that we allocate smaller reams out of; those reams cannot be “freed” back to the ream they came from. Instead, to free a ream, we just stick it back on the main free list.
If we ever run out, we turn back into an arena and initialize the next uninitialized Pd in the big ol’ Pd array.
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This presents a problem: over time, reams will shrink and never grow, and eventually there will be nothing left but single pages.
Top fix this, we can merge reams (not yet implemented in Alkyne). Thus:
Find two adjacent, unallocated reams.
Unlink the second ream from the free list.
Increase the length of the first ream by the number of pages in the second.
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We don’t need to do anything to the second ream’s Pd; by becoming part of the first ream, it is subsumed. Walking the heap requires using reams’ lengths to skip over currently-invalid Pds, anyways.
We have two options for finding mergeable reams. Either we can walk the entire heap, as above, or, when a ream is freed, we can check that the previous and following reams are mergeable (finding the previous ream would require storing the length of a ream at its first and last Pd).
Which merging strategy we use depends on whether we’re implementing an ordinary malloc-like heap or a garbage collector; in the malloc case, merging on free makes more sense, but merging in one shot makes more sense for Alkyne’s GC (we’ll see why in a bit).
A slab allocator is a specialized allocator that allocates a single type of object; they are quite popular in kernels as pools of commonly-used object. The crux of a slab allocator is that, because everything is the same size, we don’t need to implement splitting and merging. The BlockCache above is actually a very primitive slab allocator.
Our Pd array is also kind of like a slab allocator; instead of mixing them in with the variably-sized blocks, they all live together with no gaps in between; entire pages are dedicated just to Pds.
The Alkyne page allocator cannot allocate pages smaller than 4K, and making them any smaller increases the relative overhead of a Pd. To cut down on book-keeping, we slab-allocate small objects by defining size classes.
A size class is size of smaller-than-a-page object that Alkyne will allocate; other sizes are rounded up to the next size class. Entire pages are dedicated to holding just objects of the same size; these are called small object pages, or simply slabs. The size class is tracked with the class field of the Pd.
Each size class has its own free list of partially-filled slabs of that size. For slabs, gc_bits field becomes a bitset that tracks which slots in the page are currently in-use, reducing the overhead for small objects to only a little over a single bit each!
In the diagram below, bits set in the 32-bit, little-endian bitset indicate which slots in the slab (no to scale!) are filled with three-letter words. (The user likes cats.)
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Allocating an object is a bit more complicated now, but now we have a really, really short fast path for small objects:
Round up to the next highest size class, or else to the next page boundary.
If a slab size class… a. Check the pertinent slab list for a partially-filled slab. i. If there isn’t one, allocate a page per the instructions below and initialize it as a slab page. b. Find the next available slot with (!gc_bits).count_trailing_zeros(), and set that bit. c. Return page_addr + slab_slot_size * slot.
Else, if a single page, allocate from the single-page list. a. If there isn’t one, allocate from the ream list as usual.
Else, multiple pages, allocate a ream as usual.
Allocating small objects is very fast, since the slab free lists, if not empty, will always have a spot to fill in gc_bits. Finding the empty spot in the bitset is a few instructions (a not plust a ctz or equivalent on most hardware).
Alkyne maintains a separate free list for single free pages to speed up finding such pages to turn into fresh slabs. This also minimizes the need to allocate single pages off of large reams, which limits fragmentation.
Alkyne’s size classes are the powers of two from 8 (the smallest possible object) to 2048. For the classes 8, 16, and 32, which would have more than 64 slots in the page, we use up to 56 bytes on the page itself to extend gc_bits; 8-byte pages can only hold 505 objects, instead of the full 512, a 1% overhead.
Directly freeing an object via is now tricky, since we do not a priori know the size.
Round the pointer up to the next page boundary, and obtain that page’s Pd.
If this is a start-of-ream page, stick it into the appropriate free list (single page or ream, depending on the size of the ream).
Else, we can look at class to find the size class, and from that, and the offset of the original pointer into the page, the index of the slot.
Clear the slot’s index in gc_bits.
If the page was full before, place it onto the correct slab free list; if it becomes empty, place it into the page free list.
At this point, we know whether the page just became partially full or empty, and can move it to the correct free list.
Size classes are an important allocator optimization. TCMalloc takes this to an . These constants are generated by some crazy script based on profiling data.
Before continuing to the GC part of the article, it’s useful to go over what we learned.
A neat thing about this is that most of these tricks are somewhat independent. While giving feedback for an early draft, Matt Kulukundis shared this awesome talk that describes how to build complex allocators out of simple ones, and covers many of the same tropes as we did here. This perspective on allocators actually blew my mind.
Good allocators don’t just use one strategy; the use many and pick and chose the best one for the job based on expected workloads. For example, Alkyne expects to allocate many small objects; the slab pages were originally only for float objects, but it turned out to simplify a lot of the code to make all small objects be slab-allocated.
Even size classes are a deep topic: TCMalloc uses GWP telemetry from Google’s fleet to inform its many tuning parameters, including its comically large tables of size classes.
At this point, we have a pretty solid allocator. Now, let’s get rid of the free function.
Garbage collection is very different from manual memory management in that frees are performed in batches without cue from the user. There are no calls to free(); instead, we need to figure out which calls to free() we can make on the user’s behalf that they won’t notice (i.e., without quietly freeing pointers the user can still reach, resulting in a use-after-free bug). We need to do this as fast as we can.
Alkyne is a “tracing GC”. Tracing GCs walk the “object graph” from a root set of known-reachable objects. Given an object a, it will trace through any data in the object that it knows is actually a GC pointer. In the object graph, b is reachable from a if one can repeatedly trace through GC pointers to get from a to b.
Alkyne uses tracing to implement garbage collection in a two-step process, commonly called “mark-and-sweep”.
Marking consists of traversing the entire graph from a collection of reachable-by-definition values, such as things on the stack, and recording each object that is visited. Every object not so marked must therefore be definitely unreachable and can be reclaimed; this reclamation is called sweeping.
Alkyne reverses the order of operations somewhat: it “sweeps” first and then marks, i.e., it marks every value as dead and then, as it walks the graph, marks every block as alive. It then rebuilds the free lists to reflect the new marks, allowing the blocks to be reallocated. This is sometimes called “mark and don’t sweep”, but fixing up the free lists is effectively a sweeping step.
Alkyne is a “stop-the-world” (STW) GC. It needs to pause all program execution while cleaning out the heap. It is possible to build GCs that do not do this (I believe modern HotSpot GCs very rarely stop the world), but also very difficult. Most GCs are world-stopping to some degree.
One thing we do not touch on is when to sweep. This is a more complicated and somewhat hand-wavy tuning topic that I’m going to quietly sweep under the rug by pointing you to how Go does it.
Delicate freeing of individual objects is quite difficult, but scorching the earth is very easy. To do this, we walk the whole Pd array (see, I said this would be useful!) and blow away every gc_bits. This leaves the heap in a broken state where every pointer appears to be dangling. This is “armageddon”.
To fix this up, we need to “resurrect” any objects we shouldn’t have killed (oops). The roots are objects in the Alkyne interpreter stack11. To mark an object, we convert a pointer to it into a Pd via the page-Pd correspondence, and mark it as alive by “allocating” it.
We then use our knowledge12 of Alkyne objects’ heap layout to find pointers to other objects in the heap (for example, the intepreter knows it’s looking at a list and can just find the list elements within, which are likely pointers themselves). If we trace into an object and find it has been marked as allocated, we don’t recurse; this avoids infinite recursion when encountering cycles.
It’s a big hard to give a code example for this, because the “mark” part that’s part of the GC is mixed up with interpreter code, so there isn’t much to show in this case. :(
At the end of this process, every reachable object will once again be alive, but anything we couldn’t reach stays dead.
(Alkyne currently does not make this optimization, but really should.)
Rather than flipping every bit, we flip the global convention for whether 0 or 1 means “alive”, implemented by having a global bool specifying which is which at any given time; this would alternate from sweep to sweep. Thus, killing every living object is now a single operation.
This works if the allocated bit of objects in the free lists is never read, and only ever overwritten with the “alive” value when allocated, so that all of the dead objects suddenly becoming alive isn’t noticed. This does not work with slab-allocated small objects: pages may be in a mixed state where they are partially allocated and partially freed.
We can still make this optimization by adding a second bit that tracks whether the page contains any living objects, using the same convention. This allows delaying the clear of the allocated bits for small objects to when the page is visited, which also marks the whole page as alive.
Pages that were never visited (i.e., still marked as dead) can be reclaimed as usual, ignoring the allocated bits.
At this point, no pointers are dangling, but newly emptied out pages are not in the free lists they should be in. To fix this, we can walk over all Pds and put them where they need to go if they’re not full. This is the kinda-but-not-really sweep phase.
The code for this is simpler to show than explaining it:
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Of course, this will also shuffle around all pages that did not become partially empty or empty while marking. If the “instant apocalypse” optimization is used, this step must still inspect every Pd and modify the free lists.
However, it is a completely separate phase: all it does is find pages that did not survive the previous mark phase. This means that user code can run between the phases, reducing latency. If it turns out to be very expensive to sweep the whole heap, it can even be run less often than mark phases13.
This is also a great chance to merge reams, because we’re inspecting every page anyways; this is why the merging strategy depends on wanting to be a GC’s allocator rather than a normal malloc()/free() allocator.
…and that’s it! That’s garbage collection. The setup of completely owning the layout of blocks in the allocator allows us to cut down significantly on memory needed to track objects in the heap, while keeping the mark and sweep steps short and sweet. A garbage collector is like any other data structure: you pack in a lot of complexity into the invariants to make the actual operations very quick.
Alkyne’s GC is intended to be super simple because I didn’t want to think too hard about it (even though I clearly did lmao). The GC layouts are a whole ‘nother story I have been swirling around in my head for months, which is described here. The choices made there influenced the design of the GC itself.
There are still many optimizations to make, but it’s a really simple but realistic GC design, and I’m pretty happy with it!
Alkyne also does not provide finalizers. A finalizer is the GC equivalent of a destructor: it gets run after the GC declares an object dead. Finalizers complicate a GC significantly by their very nature; they are called in unspecified orders and can witness broken GC state; they can stall the entire program (if they are implemented to run during the GC pause in a multi-threaded GC) or else need to be called with a zombie argument that either can’t escape the finalizer or, worse, must be resurrected if it does!
If finalizers depend on each other, they can’t be run at all, for the same reason an ARC cycle cannot be broken; this weakness of ARC is one of the major benefits of an omniscient GC.
I learned earlier (the week before I started writing this article) that Go ALSO has finalizers and that they are similarly cursed. Go does behave somewhat more nicely than Java (finalizers are per-value and avoid zombie problems by unconditionally resurrecting objects with a finalizer).
Here are some other allocators that I find interesting and worth reading about, some of which have inspired elements of Alkyne’s design.
TCMalloc is Google’s crazy thread-caching allocator. It’s really fast and really cool, but I work for Google, so I’m biased. But it uses radix trees! Radix trees are cool!!!
Go has a garbage collector that has well-known performance properties but does not perform any wild optimizations like moving, and is a world-stopping, incremental GC.
Oilpan is the Chronimum renderer’s GC (you know, for DOM elements). It’s actually grafted onto C++ and has a very complex API reflective of the subtleties of GCs as a result.
libboehm is another C/C++ GC written by Hans Boehm, one of the world’s top experts on concurrency.
Orinoco is V8’s GC for the JavaScript heap (i.e., Chronimum’s other GC). It is a generational or moving GC that can defragment the heap over time by moving things around (and updating pointers). It also has a separate sub-GC just for short-lived objects.
Mesh is a non-GC allocator that can do compacting via clever use of mmap(2).
upb_Arena is an arena allocator that uses free-lists to allows fusing arenas together. This part of the μpb Protobuf runtime.
In other words, it uses recursion along a syntax tree, instead of a more efficient approach that compiles the program down to bytecode. ↩
Automatic Reference Counting is an automatic memory management technique where every heap allocation contains a counter of how many pointers currently point to it; once pointers go out of scope, they decrement the counter; when the counter hits zero the memory is freed.
This is used by Python and Swift as the core memory management strategy, and provided by C++ and Rust via the std::shared_ptr<T> and Arc<T> types, respectively. ↩
This is the file. It’s got fairly complete comments, but they’re written for an audience familiar with allocators and garbage collectors. ↩
This is a tangent, but I should point out that Alkyne does not do “NaN boxing”. This is a technique used by some JavaScript runtimes, like Spidermonkey, which represent dynamically typed values as either ordinary floats, or pointers hidden in the mantissas of 64-bit IEEE 754 signaling NaNs.
Alkyne instead uses something like V8’s Smi pointer compression, so our heap values are four bytes, not eight. Non-Smi values that aren’t on the stack (which uses a completely different representation) can only exist as elements of lists or objects. Alkyne’s slab allocator design (described below) is focused on trying to minimize the overhead of all floats being in their own little allocations. ↩
The operating system’s own physical page allocator is actually solving the same problem: given a vast range of memory (in this case, physical RAM), allocate it. The algorithms in this article apply to those, too.
Operating system allocators can be slightly fussier because they need to deal with virtual memory mappings, but that is a topic for another time. ↩
As you might expect, these scare-quotes are load-bearing. ↩
I tried leaving this out of the first draft, and failed. So many things would be simpler without fussing around with alignment. ↩
Yes yes most architectures can cope with unaligned loads and stores but compilers rather like to pretend that’s not true. ↩
Currently Alkyne has a rather small max ream size. A better way to approach this would be to treat the entire heap as one gigantic ream at the start, which is always at the bottom of the free list. ↩
In GC terms, these are often called “stack roots”. ↩
The interpreter simply knows this and can instruct the GC appropriately.
In any tracing GC, the compiler or interpreter must be keenly aware of the layouts of types so that it can generate the appropriate tracing code for each.
This is why grafting GCs to non-GC’d languages is non-trivial, even though people have totally done it: libboehm and Oilpan are good (albeit sometimes controversial) examples of how this can be done. ↩
With “instant apocalypse”, this isn’t quite true; after two mark phases, pages from the first mark phase will appear to be alive, since the global “alive” convention has changed twice. Thus, only pages condemned in every other mark phase will be swept; sweeping is most optimal after an odd number of marks. ↩
Almost a year ago I developed the moveit Rust library, which provides primitives for expressing something like C++’s T&& and move constructors while retaining Rust’s so-called “destructive move property”: moving a value transfers ownership, rather than doing a funny copy.
In an earlier blogpost I described the theory behind this library and some of the motivation, which I feel fairly confident about, especially in how constructors (and their use of pinning) are defined.
The old post is somewhat outdated, since moveit uses different names for a lot of things that are geared to fit in with the rest of Rust.
The core abstraction of moveit is the constructor, which are types that implement the New trait:
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A New type is not what is being constructed; rather, it represents a method of construction, resembling a specialized Fn trait. The constructed type is given by the associated type Output.
Types that can be constructed are constructed in place, unlike most Rust types. This is a property shared by constructors in C++, allowing values to record their own address at the moment of creation. Explaining why this is useful is a bit long-winded, but let’s assume this is a thing we want to be able to do. Crucially, we need the output of a constructor to be pinned, which is why the this output parameter is pinned.
Calling a constructor requires creating the output location in advance so that we can make it available to it in time:
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However, this is not quite right. Pin<P>’s docs are quite clear that we must ensure that, once we create an Pin<&mut T>, we must call T’s destructor before its memory is re-used; since reuse is unavoidable for stack data, and storage will not do it for us (it’s a MaybeUninit<T>, after all), we must somehow run the destructor separately.
One trick we could use is to replace storage with some kind of wrapper over a MaybeUninit<T> that calls the destructor for us:
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This works, but isn’t ideal, because now we can’t write down something like a C++ move constructor without running into the classic C++ problem: all objects must be destroyed unconditionally, so now you can have moved-from state. Giving up Rust’s moves-transfer-ownership (i.e. affine) property is bad, but it turns out to be avoidable!
There are also some scary details around panics here that I won’t get into.
moveit instead provides a MoveRef<'frame, T> type that tries to capture the notion of what an “owning reference” could mean in Rust. An &move or &own type has been discussed many times, but implementing it in the full generality it would deserve as a language feature runs into some interesting problems due to how Box<T>, the heap allocated equivalent, currently behaves.
We can think of MoveRef<'frame, T> as wrapping the longest-lived&mut T reference pointing to a particular location in memory. The longest-lived part is crucial, since it means that MoveRef is entitled to run its pointee’s destructor:
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No reference to the pointee can ever outlive the MoveRef itself, by definition, so this is safe. The owner of a value is that which is entitled to destroy it, and therefore a MoveRefliterally owns its pointee. Of course, this means we can move out of it (which was the whole point of the original blogpost).
Because of this, we are further entitled to arbitrarily pin a MoveRef with no consequences: pinning it would consume the unpinned MoveRef (for obvious reasons, MoveRefs cannot be reborrowed) so no unpinned reference may outlive the pinning operation.
This gives us a very natural solution to the problem above: result should not be a Pin<&mut T>, but rather a Pin<MoveRef<'_, T>>:
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This messy sequence of steps is nicely wrapped up in a macro provided by the library that ensures safe initialization and eventual destruction:
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There is also some reasonably complex machinery that allows us to do something like an owning Deref, which I’ll come back to in a bit.
However, there is a small wrinkle that I did not realize when I first designed MoveRef: what happens if I mem::forget a MoveRef?
Quashing destruction isn’t new to Rust: we can mem::forget just about anything, leaking all kinds of resources. And that’s ok! Destructors alone cannot be used in type design to advert unsafe catastrophe, a well-understood limitation of the language that we have experience designing libraries around, such as Vec::drain().
MoveRef’s design creates a contradiction:
MoveRef is an owning smart pointer, and therefore can be safely pinned, much like Box::into_pinned() enables. Constructors, in particular, are designed to generate pinned MoveRefs!
Forgetting a MoveRef will cause the pointee destructor to be suppressed, but its storage will still be freed and eventually re-used, a violation of the Pin drop guarantee.
This would appear to mean that a design like MoveRef is not viable at all, and that this sort of “stack box” strategy is always unsound.
What about it? Even though we can trivially create a Pin<Box<i32>> via Box::pin(), this is a red herring. When we mem::forget a Box, we also forget about its storage too. Because its storage has been leaked unrecoverably, we are still, technically, within the bounds of the Pin contract. Only barely, but we’re inside the circle.
Interestingly, the Rust language has to deal with a similar problem; perhaps it suggests a way out?
The upshot is that maybe_drop conditions the destructor of x on a flag, which is allocated next to it on the stack. Rust flips this flag when the value is moved into another function, and only runs the destructor when the flag is left alone. In this case, LLVM folded the flag into the bool argument, so this isn’t actually a meaningful perf hit.
These “drop flags” are key to Rust’s ownership model. Since ownership may be transferred dynamically due to reasonably complex control flow, it needs to leave breadcrumbs for itself to figure out whether the value wound up getting moved away or not. This is unique to Rust: in C++, every object is always destroyed, so no such faffing about is necessary.
Similarly, moveit can close this soundness hole by leaving itself breadcrumbs to determine if safe code is trying to undermine its guarantees.
In other words: in Rust, it is not sufficient to manage a pointer to manage a memory location; it is necessary to manage an explicit or implicit drop flag as well.
We can extend MoveRef to track an explicit drop flag:
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Wrapping it in a Cell is convenient and doesn’t cost us anything, since a MoveRef can never be made Send or Sync anyways. Inside of its destructor, we can flip the flag, much like Rust flips a drop flag when transferring ownership to another function:
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But, how should we use it? The easiest way is to change the definition of moveit!() to construct a flag trap:
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The trap is a deterrent against forgetting a MoveRef: because the MoveRef’s destructor flips the flag, the trap’s destructor will notice if this doesn’t happen, and take action accordingly.
Note: in moveit, this is actually implemented by having the Slot<T> type carry a reference to the trap, created in the slot!() macro. However, this is not a crucial detail for the design.
The trap is another RAII type that basically looks like this:
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The trap is simple: if the contained drop flag is not flipped, it crashes the program. Because moveit!() allocates it on the stack where uses cannot mem::forget it, its destructor is guaranteed to run before storage’s destructor runs (although Rust does not guarantee destructors run, it does guarantee their order).
If a MoveRef is forgotten, it won’t have a chance to flip the flag, which the trap will detect. Once the trap’s destructor notices this, it cannot return, either normally or by panic, since this would cause storage to be freed. Crashing the program is the only1 acceptable response.
Some of MoveRef’s functions need to be adapted to this new behavior: for example, MoveRef::into_inner() still needs to flip the flag, since moving out of the MoveRef is equivalent to running the destructor for the purposes of drop flags.
In order for MoveRef to be a proper “new” reference type, and not just a funny smart pointer, we also need a Deref equivalent:
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This is the original design for DerefMove, which had a two-phase operation: first deinit() was used to create a destructor-suppressed version of the smart pointer that would only run the destructor for the storage (e.g., for Box, only the call to free()). Then, deref_move() would extract the “inner pointee” out of it as a MoveRef. This had the effect of splitting the smart pointer’s destructor, much like we did above on the stack.
This has a number of usability problems. Not only does it need to be called through a macro, but deinit() isn’t actually safe: failing to call deref_move() is just as bad as calling mem::forget on the result. Further, it’s not clear where to plumb the drop flags through.
After many attempts to graft drop flags onto this design, I replaced it with a completely new interface:
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Uninit has been given the clearer name of Storage: a type that owns just the storage of the moved-from pointer. The two functions were merged into a single, safe function that performs everything in one step, emitting the storage as an out-parameter.
The new DroppingSlot<T> is like a Slot<T>, but closer to a safe version of the EventuallyInit<T> type from earlier: its contents are not necessarily initialized, but if they are, it destroys them, and it only does so when its drop flag is set.
Box is the most illuminating example of this trait:
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MoveRef’s own implementation illustrates the need for the explicit lifetime bound:
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Since this is fundamentally a lifetime narrowing, this can only compile if we insist that 'a: 'frame, which is implied by Self: 'frame. Earlier iterations of this design enforced it via a MoveRef<'frame, Self> receiver, which turned out to be unnecessary.
As of writing, I’m still in the process of self-reviewing this change, but at this point I feel reasonably confident that it’s correct; this article is, in part, written to convince myself that I’ve done this correctly.
The new design will also enable me to finally complete my implementation of a constructor and pinning-friendly vector type; this issue came up in part because the vector type needs to manipulate drop flags in a complex way. For this reason, the actual implementation of drop flags actually uses a counter, not a single boolean.
I doubt this is the last issue I’ll need to chase down in moveit, but for now, we’re ever-closer to true owning references in Rust.
Arguably, running the skipped destructor is also a valid remediation strategy. However, this is incompatible with what the user requested: they asked for the destructor to be supressed, not for it to be run at a later date. This would be somewhat surprising behavior, which we could warn about for the benefit of unsafe code, but ultimately the incorrect choice for non-stack storage, such as a MoveRef referring to the heap. ↩