What Talking on Mars Will Really Feel Like
Inside NASA’s year-long Mars simulation, every conversation came with a delay—and every delay taught us something new about the future of human spaceflight.
25 March 2025
It’s 9:00 a.m. The light in the habitat has just shifted from pale periwinkle to the amber glow of a Martian morning. You tap out a message—just a few words to someone back home. Maybe it’s a photo from this morning’s Marswalk. Maybe it’s something more personal: an “I miss you”, an “I’m okay”, or a question you’re not sure you want answered.
You hit send. And then... you wait.
Twenty-two minutes pass in silence.
You make coffee—well, the powdered approximation. You log habitat readings, review data collected yesterday, sip your slowly cooling coffee. Still nothing.
When the reply finally pings back, it’s already out of sync with the moment you were in. The conversation has aged, like wine or cheese. You respond again, knowing your words won’t reach them until nearly an hour after this all began. If they’re busy, if they hesitate, if they’re distracted back on Earth, it could be longer.
This is communication on Mars. A place where every word is a leap of faith. Where dialogue moves at the speed of distance, and silence isn’t absence—it’s transit. You learn to live in the pause. You learn that connection doesn’t mean immediacy.
It means intention.
“You can’t simulate Martian gravity or the danger of stepping outside without a helmet...But you can simulate silence. And isolation. And the weight of waiting.”
This isn’t science fiction. It’s something Dr. Kelly Haston lived through as commander of NASA’s CHAPEA-1 mission—a one-year analog simulation designed to test the physical and emotional reality of Martian life. Located at Johnson Space Center inside a 3D-printed habitat, the mission gave researchers insight into how human crews might survive—and thrive—on the Red Planet.
From California Labs to Martian Sandboxes
Kelly isn’t a career astronaut. She’s a stem cell biologist with decades of experience building models of human disease—recreating conditions like Alzheimer’s or liver failure using cells grown in a dish. Her fascination with how the human body changes in space drew her deeper into the world of space health.
“Stem cell models let us study humans without sending people up,” she explained. “They’re part of how we prepare for spaceflight safely.”
It was that bridge—between biology and exploration—that eventually led her from the San Francisco Bay Area to a simulated Mars habitat in Houston.
The habitat was no movie set. At 1,700 square feet, it was designed for long-duration occupancy. It included private quarters, a medical station, and a Marswalk simulator, a realistic red-dirt "sandbox" for extravehicular activities.
“The sandbox was incredibly realistic,” she said. “You could feel the mission urgency when you were out there. Even though we knew we were in Texas, the sense of purpose made it real.”
But realism had its limits. No amount of VR or red lighting could replicate the lethal stakes of a real Martian EVA (extravehicular activity).
“You always knew you wouldn’t suffocate if your helmet failed. That’s the trade-off with analogs,” she said. “You simulate the pressures, not the peril.”
The Psychology of Silence
What CHAPEA-1 could simulate perfectly was the psychological toll of distance. The crew of four—Kelly, along with structural engineer Ross Brockwell, emergency physician Dr. Nathan Jones, and microbiologist Lt. Dr. Anca Solariu—were completely isolated from direct contact with the outside world for 378 days.
“No phone calls. No FaceTime. No real-time anything,” Kelly said. “We didn’t speak to our families directly for a year.”
Instead, the crew relied on delayed messaging, mimicking Mars-Earth communication latency. That meant carefully crafted updates, asynchronous conflict resolution, and an entirely new rhythm of conversation.
“You learn not to expect quick reassurance. You say something hard… and you wait. It teaches emotional patience.”
Kelly described how this delay reshaped even small moments. A joke might land long after the moment had passed. A check-in from home could arrive when the mood had already shifted.
“We started writing longer, more thoughtful messages. You think differently when you know there’s no immediate reply. It’s weirdly… poetic.”
The Unexpected Lessons
For all its mission protocols and science, CHAPEA-1 was also a deeply human experience. The team bonded over rituals: cat photo of the week, shared meals, and the occasional needlepoint session. They adapted not just to isolation, but to the peculiar intimacy of extended proximity.
“You’re in this tiny space with three other people for a year. You will learn how to communicate better—or go nuts.”
One theme that emerged over and over was the importance of support—both internal and external. While the crew couldn't speak directly to friends or partners, the knowledge that someone was listening helped immensely.
“Just knowing my messages were being read made a difference. Even if I couldn’t hear their voices.”
Surprisingly, Kelly also spoke positively about the idea of sending couples to Mars.
“When partners really understand each other’s rhythms, even a 44-minute round trip delay can be manageable. There’s something powerful about shared patience.”
Science With Stakes
Beyond the human drama, the mission included rigorous research: growing crops in Martian soil analogs, testing autonomous decision-making, and conducting simulated emergencies without real-time backup from Mission Control.
“We didn’t get step-by-step instructions,” Kelly explained. “We had to figure it out, relay our actions, and wait. It forced us to build trust in ourselves and each other.”
She also reflected on the role of analogs in future exploration.
“You can’t rehearse everything. But you can rehearse the mindset. That’s what analogs are really for.”
And that mindset includes deep adaptability—the ability to stay calm in uncertainty, to keep going despite silence, to find structure in long delays.
“Mars won’t wait for you to feel ready,” she said. “You bring what you’ve got. And you hope it’s enough.”
Signal Received
As the simulated hatch of CHAPEA-1 finally opened after 378 days, the world saw a smiling crew step back into Earth’s atmosphere—but what they brought back wasn’t just data. It was insight. Not only into how we’ll survive on Mars, but why we’ll endure the silence, the distance, the strange and sacred solitude of interplanetary life.
Mars will stretch the meaning of connection until it no longer resembles anything we’ve known on Earth. It will turn conversations into echoes, and relationships into acts of endurance. And still—through all the silence and waiting—people will find ways to reach each other.
It won’t always be easy. Some days, it may not even feel possible. But somewhere, beyond the delay and the dust and the loneliness, a message will land in the heart of someone who needs it most.
The future of Martian life won't be measured by how many structures we build, or how quickly we get there. It will be measured by how well we carry each other across the empty spaces in between.
And maybe, in learning to do that, we'll find we are more ready for this next world than we ever realized. *
Adapted from Joe Sweeney’s interview with Dr. Kelly Haston for the Aspiring Martians: Everyday Mars episode titled "Communication on Mars" which aired on 25 March 2025.