The 2070
If a person is born on Mars to human parents, with human DNA, they remain biologically human. The environmental context—lower gravity, higher radiation, different nutrition—might influence physical development, but it would not change the species.
Culturally and psychologically: maybe not, or not entirely.
A person born and raised on Mars:
• Would not have a direct connection to Earth, except through stories or archives.
• Could develop a distinct Martian culture, adapted to life in enclosed environments, scarcity of resources, and perhaps a more collective society.
• Language, values, perception of time and space could diverge from those on Earth.
Over time, this might lead to a new identity, which we might call Martian human.
Philosophically: it depends on what we mean by human.
If by human we mean our existential condition—made of limits, emotions, desires, and consciousness—then a Martian born from humans remains human.
But if human implies a connection with Earth, with history, cultures, and the shared experience of terrestrial humanity, then this humanity could slowly change or fade.
In short:
Yes, we are still human. But perhaps a new branch of humanity is beginning. A Homo sapiens martianus, still recognizable, but different at heart and mind.
In the deep silence of the cosmos, among cold orbits and distant stars, we have always searched for one answer.
A single, simple, yet immense question: Are we alone?
For centuries, we looked upward, watching those flickering points of light like unanswered promises. Science expanded our vision, lifted us beyond the atmosphere, mapped exoplanets, calculated habitable zones, measured dark matter.
But the answer hasn't come.
And perhaps, it will not come from out there.
Because while we searched the sky, something else was beginning—not here, but elsewhere.
On Mars.
A silent world, once dead, now beginning to stir. Not biologically, but humanly.
By 2070, humanity will face a turning point it has never known before: for the first time, men and women will not simply live outside Earth. They will be born outside it.
A new generation, native to another world.
Not just visitors in pressure suits, but legitimate children of a new gravity, a new horizon, a new definition of home.
This is the Mars Generation.
They will grow up in habitats built with regolith and artificial intelligence, breathing recycled air, eating hydroponic crops, protected by domes and algorithms. They will never see an ocean, nor feel wind through trees.
But they will see Earth—tiny and luminous—in the Martian sky.
And they will grow up knowing they are not a return to the past… but the beginning of something greater.
These human beings will not be aliens.
And yet, they will be different from us. Their culture, their language, their thoughts will be shaped by distance, by necessity, by the radical collaboration between science, ethics, and survival.
So we must ask:
Will humanity remain one? Or will it, inevitably, branch out—like stars, like galaxies?