Betterment Book

Ana typed few more lines of code before leaning back in her chair. The lines on her monitor were starting to blur together, no matter how much she blinked her eyes–a good indication that it was probably time to quit for the day.

Most of the others in the office had already left for the night, so she was surrounded by empty chairs and the quiet hum of vacant machines as she locked her computer for the night. The time lit up on the screen. Was it that late already?

It didn’t make sense to run back to the apartment before dinner, she thought as she grabbed her purse and left the building. The humid mugginess of a New York summer hit her as she quickly walked to the nearest subway station.

Luckily it wasn’t too long before her train came. She boarded one of the cars and grabbed a seat, listening to quiet music as stations passed by. It was past rush hour, so the platforms were mostly empty. As the train stopped again at the station before hers, something caught Ana’s eye.

She pulled out a small black notebook from her purse and jotted down a note as the train pulled away.

…

The restaurant was bustling with people when she arrived. Her friends grinned as they waved her over to their table. They were all young professionals working finance and tech jobs in New York, same as her. She greeted Max and Keva, who worked at the same FinTech company, and Ilia who was climbing–or rather, clawing–his way up Wall Street.

“Not going to look at the menu?” Max asked her as she stacked hers in the middle.

“What’s the point? I get the same thing every time.” Dinner here was a longstanding tradition between all of them, a way to catch up once a week. Tonight, Ana had arrived right in the middle of Keva’s story about a quirky colleague. She half-listened to it, making sure to smile at the right parts.

When the server arrived with their food, Max nudged her. “You alright? You seem a bit off today.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, “Just been working a lot.” Keva made a sympathetic noise, but Max wasn’t buying it.

“You always work a lot,” he said, rolling his eyes, “You love work.”

Ana hesitated, but there was genuine concern in her friends’ eyes as they waited for her answer. “It’s not really dinner conversation,” she said, pushing around the food on her plate. “But there was a sudden death in my extended family a few days ago.”

“Oh no,” Keva sat down her fork to gently rub Ana’s shoulder. “How are you dealing with it?”

“Mostly fine. It wasn’t anyone I was particularly close to. More of an eccentric uncle, I guess you could call him,” Ana said. “I’d only met him a few times actually–he spent much of his life traveling and volunteering for social causes abroad. But… he’s left me an inheritance. My mother told me it’s around twenty thousand dollars.”

“No need to sound so dejected about it,” Ilia said, slathering a generous amount of butter onto his bread. “It’s a good amount, even if it isn’t life-changing, per se.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Ana said. “My parents told me he’s left some instructions of what he wanted to be done with the money. He wants it to be put towards something good,” she said, putting air quotes around the words. “And I have no idea what to do with it.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard,” Keva said, “You could research charities, and donate to something he would have liked.”

“If I were you,” Ilia said, his cheeks bulging with food, “I’d just invest it. Your uncle had the chance to donate his money when he was alive.”

“I can’t keep the inheritance,” Ana pushed away her plate. “My uncle spent his life building orphanages and tending to the poor. The least I can do is respect his last wishes.”

“I think you’re overthinking this, Ana,” Max looked at her with a hint of worry. “Surely it’ll be enough to donate to a few good causes.”

“I don’t want to donate to just any cause,” Ana told him, trying to explain how she was feeling. “It’s… it’s just, it feels like this is my uncle’s last act of something good in this world. It has to feel worthy of him, you know?”

“If it’s impact you’re looking for, donate it to Southeast Asia,” Ilia said, “The money will go farther there.”

“Or to the UN,” Keva added. “It’s eighty cents to feed a child or something.”

“There are so many causes that need help,” Ana said. “But I don't know if my uncle would have wanted the money to feed children in impoverished countries, or educate girls in rural areas, or something else entirely.”

“To bad this isn’t one of your beloved algorithms,” Ilia snorted. “You could program a computational model, and tune it to your uncle’s preferences–”

“Don’t give her any crazy ideas,” Max told Ilia, accurately reading the sudden hope in Ana’s eyes. “Trying to compare charities like that will only be more confusing. Ana, maybe you should consider donating the money locally. You might feel better if you could actually see the effects of the money.”

“It’s not about me feeling good. It’s about honoring my uncle.”

“Of course not–”

“He has a point, you know,” Ilia interrupted Max’s backpedaling, “That’s why universities try to match donors to students. They’re more likely to give if they can actually see the good that their donation does.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so scummy,” Keva brandished her butter knife at Ilia. “So what if universities are smart about increasing their donations? That money does a lot of good for students in need.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad,” Ilia said defensively. “Just that it happens.”

Keva and Ilia started bickering about the ethics of university funding sources. Ana watched them, feeling simultaneously relieved that the conversation had moved on and disappointed about the lack of a definitive resolution.

“Hey,” Max nudged her, “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

Ana nodded, but more to convince herself than anything else.

…

Ana got home and flipped on the light in her tidy Brooklyn apartment. It was small, but it was hers. She was immensely privileged, she knew. To even be in a position where she could debate where to donate the inheritance, instead of having to use it to pay rent or other bills.

The thought grounded her even as she remembered Ilia’s words from the restaurant. If only there was an algorithm to pick a charity. Something that could be coded using hard logic. That’s what she was good at, not this open-ended, intractable problem.

She willed the thoughts away as she emptied her purse. Keys, wallet, and of course the little black book she carried on her at all times. She flipped open to the last page she’d scrawled on.

Find some way to stop escalator from running all night. Could conserve energy if it could sense and run only when people are on it. She sighed and then threw it on her kitchen counter with the rest of her things.

Only then did she see the slim package in front of her. It must have been slid under her door. Whoever had sent it had handwritten her name on the address. Frowning, she carried it into her bedroom. It was light, almost weightless as she slit the top open.

Her hand stilled as she reached in and retrieved the object within. It was a little black book, identical to her own. Which meant it could have only come from one person.

…

“I call it my betterment book,” Uncle Dale showed Ana the very first page, letting her chubby nine-year-old finger trace over the pages.

“Solar powered lanterns,” she read out, frowning. “What does that mean?”

He smiled, “It’s an idea I had, for bringing low-cost lighting in villages that might not otherwise have electricity.”

“How many of these ideas have you done?”

A frown crossed his face, and for a second, Ana was afraid she had offended him. “I haven’t done any of them yet, actually. Right now, they’re just ideas.”

…

Ana couldn’t remember what happened next. Most likely, her younger self had been distracted by something else and run off elsewhere. But now, the conversation came back to her. It was probably one of the last ones they had from when she still saw her uncle regularly. She had been around nine or ten when Uncle Dale had abruptly quit his job, sold all his worldly possessions, and moved abroad.

She flipped to the first page of the betterment book. Solar powered lanterns, just like she had read when she was a child. But there were other things scribbled below it. Notes about how it couldn’t work. Offers a second-rate alternative to life on the electrical grid. There were some attempts at alternative ideas. And then just one word written in large blocks underneath everything else–INFEASIBLE.

As she flipped through the book, there were quite a few of these ideas that were deemed infeasible, but there were also those that he had seemed to accomplish. And then there were those ideas that seemed to still be in the brainstorming phrase.

It was at this point that Ana called her mom in a panic.

“What’s wrong?” Her mom asked as soon as the phone picked up.

“I’ve gotten a package, from Uncle Dale. Did you know anything about this?”

“Well, he didn’t have a lot of possessions, so I didn’t think–”

“He’s left me this book of ideas, of things he tried to do to make the world a better place,” Ana rushed out over the phone. “And I think he wants me to complete them, but I can’t do it. I can’t leave my job and travel the world–”

“Slow down, Ana. I’m sure that’s not what he meant by giving you the book.”

“What else could he have meant?” Ana knew she sounded crazy, but she couldn’t make herself stop. “I’m not going to be able to do it and I’ll disappoint a dead man’s last wishes. He’ll never be at peace!”

“Ana, please– Let’s just take deep breath,” her mom said.

Ana did as her mom said. Then, as she thumbed through the book a second time, a note addressed to her fell out. “I found something–I’m going to call you back.” Ana hung up, her eyes already skimming over the note.

Dear Ana,

Hopefully by now, you’ve received the money I left you, along with this: my betterment book. It’s been through a lot since you’ve last seen it. A lot of failed ideas… but a few good ones too.

Let me first state that I don’t have any expectations for the money in my will–none at all. I don’t expect you to follow my path. I realize what I did was drastic, and not for everyone.

But I’ve often thought that the world would be a much better place if everyone implemented even just one idea from their betterment book–big or small. And when thinking of some of the betterment books that I’d like to invest in… well the decision was easy to make.

Love,

Uncle Dale

As Ana wiped away a tear, she realized her mom was right. Uncle Dale had never meant for her to be a continuation of his legacy–his own was impressive enough. She held the proof in her hands: an entire life documented by the betterments it had bestowed upon the world.

No, his last wish for her had been something else entirely.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her own notebook. A lot of the ideas seemed silly to her now, but a few had promise. She flipped between a few pages, thinking.

And then she began to write.