Infinity isn’t a size. It’s what the world looks like when the edge can’t reach you.
The word infinite sounds like a claim about an object: how many things it contains, how far it goes, whether it ever ends.
But in practice, “infinite” is usually a claim about a relationship: the relationship between a system and a boundary it can’t reach.
A resource X is effectively infinite for a system S when, for the purpose of predicting S’s behavior, the true bound on X doesn’t matter.
One crisp way to say it:
This makes “effectively infinite” a cousin of “isolated enough for the purpose.” It’s not a metaphysical boast; it’s a regime-of-applicability claim.
My friend Andrew is an eligible bachelor (and quite a catch at that). Naturally, he’d like to date every pretty girl on the planet, at least once. But, his handsome looks and devilish charm notwithstanding, even if he lived to a hundred and dated a different pretty girl each day, he could never date every pretty girl on the planet. So from his perspective, the supply of pretty girls is effectively infinite, as recorded in the dating adage, “there are plenty of fish in the sea”.
The edge exists. But poor (or lucky) old Andrew will never reach it (and not for lack of trying).
The constraint isn’t the world. It’s the system:
That’s why “effectively infinite” maps cleanly to Theory of Constraints: