Marcia Kamien

“ For the hundredth time, Dayton told himself: "We did too good a job." He was thinking of the master-plan that had made a new race of Martians out of ordinary Earth children, the plan which had started twenty years before.
Dayton had looked at the fifty-three babies two decades before with mixed emotions of hope and fear, sharing the misgivings that had plagued the other scientists and teachers. It had been a daring idea, this patient dream that was now reaching fulfillment. First the babies would have to become accustomed gradually to the thin atmosphere, and lower gravity of Mars. ”

“ We're all different. We can breathe this air while you must stay in your domes. We are strong and big. You, and all your kind—are weak and puny.
"You made one mistake, Professor Dayton. You carefully nurtured us, fifty-three kids, so that we could breathe and walk on Mars as free men. You did it, Professor, and it was a marvelous job.
"But now, esteemed Professor, we want to be free. We don't want to walk on our planet for Earthlings. We are Martians...."
There was a murmur of assent from the others.
"We are bronze-skinned Martians," Bar went on. "And Mars is ours, by all rights. ”

“ We want no more of your science that thinks it knows all, yet cannot even walk without a bubble on its head. We want no more of teachers who teach, yet cannot run without bouncing into the air like mountain-goats. ”