We can tell stories. We have stories to tell. The stories can be of value to the 300-year grandchild elders. We ought to produce value for them. We have imperfect ideas about what their lives will be like. We can imagine. We ought imagine. They are likely to be improved versions of current humanity. But what is humanity? Perhaps more to the point, what is humanicity? What can we do to do no harm, reach beyond forgettable and irrelevant, do actionable good? But tell stories?