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It’s already been an historic year for wildfires. Even if your community doesn’t burn, you might still be in for hazy air.

The nation will mark an unhappy anniversary next week: the worst day for wildfire pollution exposure in U.S. history. On June 7, 2023, the skies over the Acela Corridor turned a sickly mustard yellow due to smoke pouring south from fires in northern Quebec; New York City recorded its unhealthiest ever score on the Air Quality Index at 484, more than 300 points above what’s considered healthy. In the years since, we’ve come to better understand the dangers of such “smoke events.” A study published earlier this year by researchers at UCLA was the first to estimate deaths specifically from long-term exposure to wildfire smoke, finding that it kills more than 24,000 people in the U.S. every year — more people than murderers.
The 2026 wildfire season is already one for the books. Fires had burned 2.4 million acres in the U.S. as of Monday, nearly double the 10-year average for the start of June. And the months ahead don’t look good — about 17% of the country is already in extreme drought, and an all-but-certain El Niño will bring warmer, drier conditions to the already volatile Northwest and suppress or delay monsoon precipitation elsewhere.
Where the smoke from any of the resulting fires actually goes is far less predictable, however, subject to impossible-to-forecast factors such as when there are human-caused ignitions, how big the fire is, what the winds are doing on a given day or even hour, and how much moisture is in the air, among other micro-factors. What’s actually burning makes a difference, too: trees, logs, and dense forest floor litter, called duff, have more mass than the flash-burning grasses of the Plains, meaning forest fires produce more soot and ash for distribution. “Literally, that is where the heavy emissions come from to get lofted with the intensity of a ground fire,” Pete Lahm, the branch chief for smoke at the U.S. Forest Service and the leader of the Interagency Wildlife Fire Air Quality Response Program, told me.
The current Fort Smith fire in the boreal forest of Canada is an example of how difficult it is to predict smoke exposure. Although northern Canada had a good snow year — which should in theory suppress major fires up there — there was a small pocket of dryness around Wood Buffalo National Park that ignited, ballooned into an almost 40,000-acre fire, and sent high-altitude smoke as far south as Chicago last week. Or take those wildfires in Quebec in 2023, which sent particulate matter as far south as Florida.
“The smoke went out to sea and came back in,” Lahm said of that event. “Who would have thought about that?”
As Will Barrett, the assistant vice president for nationwide clean air policy at the American Lung Association, told me, “No part of the country is immune from the impacts of climate change and the threat of increased pollution.” It’s always best to check your local air quality (which reflects a lot more than just wildfire particulates) and the national fire and smoke map when in doubt.
Much has already been said by now about the lack of snow in the Western U.S. “This year’s peak snowpack will be the new benchmark low for Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico,” reads the latest National Integrated Drought Information System report from the middle of May. “There are no comparable years.” Idaho, too, has “no historical comparison” for its lack of snow. In the Cascade Mountains and northern Sierras, where some of the country’s worst wildfires have historically occurred, many drought monitoring stations are likewise recording only trace amounts of snow.
Normally, melting snow helps stave off wildfire ignitions through the spring and early summer. When the snow melts too early — or isn’t there in the first place — the potential for explosive wildfires creeps higher much sooner. Forests also just have a lot of stuff — large trees, brushy undergrowth, forest floor leaf litter, homes and cars — which generates a lot of soot and ash.
In the southern half of Nevada and Utah, fuels are already “near or exceeding record dry levels,” per the latest National Significant Wildland Fire Potential Outlook, updated on Monday. What’s more, “Some of the fires are burning in the heavier fuels and timber of higher elevations, which is very unusual for late May” — and causes more smoke than grasses or chaparral.
The report also shows that above-average significant wildfire potential will consume almost the entire northwest corner of the U.S. — all of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and southwest Montana — by August, and continue into September. The conditions resemble those of 2015, which turned out to be one of the worst fire seasons in Pacific Northwest history, the agency said. Everyone in the region is at risk from local wildfire smoke, regardless of what drifts in from other places.
“If California were to get active, Idaho and parts of Oregon can get slammed with that smoke,” Lahm told me. “Occasionally, with fires in the mid-Sierras, you’ll start to see impacts in Salt Lake City.” That’s especially true when there is above-normal plant growth in the Sacramento Valley and Sierra foothills, as there is this year. (“One sampling site in the Sierra Foothills,” the interagency report found, “recorded the second highest amount of growth in the 43-year period of record.”)
Lahm added a note of potential optimism to the smoke forecast in the West, pointing out that California is not in a severe drought at the moment. Southern California, home of the costliest fire in U.S. history last year, could be spared almost entirely thanks to the expected El Niño-induced above-average rainfall. “Maybe we won’t get the smoke from California this year,” Lahm allowed, before adding, “but California can get drier.”
The fire season is already well underway in the Southwest, with the airplane-crash-ignited Seven Cabins Fire in New Mexico the biggest active wildfire in the U.S. at 29,000 acres. Local air quality impacts are significant enough that the Forest Service already has air resource advisors involved, but Lahm told me long-range smoke impacts aren’t expected.
The southern and southeastern U.S. can sometimes feel repercussions from fires burning on the West Coast, though. “If we have a good Pacific Rim season, while really volume driven, there have actually been impacts in Louisiana, occasionally,” Lahm said.
Spring fires in Georgia and Florida have burned down into the duff, or “gone underground,” and could reemerge again in the coming months. Late May’s rainstorms could theoretically help curb fires in the Southeast, at least through the early summer. But forecasts show conditions drying out by late summer — El Niño increases wind shear, interrupting hurricane formation in the Atlantic basin and suppressing the tropical storms that normally keep the region wet through the hottest months of the year. Downed trees and brush from Hurricane Helene in 2024 remain an ongoing fire hazard, especially if they dry out.
The smoke in the Midwest isn’t usually of the homegrown variety, but being downwind of Canada and the western U.S. has made it no stranger to haze and red sunsets. According to the American Lung Association’s 2026 State of the Air report, which looks at the period from 2022-2024, “most of the Midwest” was “seriously impacted by high levels of ozone,” in part due to the “ozone-forming pollutants” generated when wildfire smoke interacts with urban air.
The snow conditions in Canada this year thankfully haven’t followed the pattern in the western U.S., and if things stay relatively wet up north, then it’s less likely the Midwest will experience the boreal wildfire smoke it may otherwise have grown accustomed to. But “say that smoke that came down from the [Fort Smith] fire decided to hit the ground in Chicago” last week, Lahm speculated to me. “It certainly would have probably contributed to [air quality] numbers above the standard, and if you’re sensitive and you’re not ready, then it’s a big deal.”
Because poor air quality often stems from fires burning in other places — which thus are often not top of mind — watching local air quality reports is especially important in the Midwest. No, the Fort Smith smoke didn’t hit Chicago last week, but it could have. More than any other region, the Midwest is a wildcard for smoke impacts.
Like the Midwest, the Northeast is often the victim of smoke from faraway fires. In 2025, for example, there were what Lahm described as “light impacts” in New York and Washington, D.C., from fires in Quebec, Ontario, and the Western U.S. “because of the volume of fire material being burned.” So far, though, the National Significant Wildland Fire Potential Outlook shows normal fire potential for the Mid-Atlantic region through September with “brief periods of elevated fire danger during windy days that follow dry periods.”
But as I’ve written before, the fire conditions in the East are also changing. The region has seen a 10-fold jump in the frequency of large burns over the past four decades. In fact, almost nowhere better represents the ability of local fires to cause unpredictable regional impacts than the East, where a likely human-caused fire in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park in 2024 sent particulate matter into surrounding neighborhoods.
If smoke defies long-range forecasts, then, the best method is to expect it and be pleasantly surprised if it doesn’t arrive. For most people, that means shaking off any leftover baggage you have around mask-wearing from the COVID-era and keeping a few N95s in the glove box. It also means knowing you’re at risk in the first place. Children under 18, adults over 65, and anyone who is pregnant or has a pre-existing respiratory or heart condition should be especially attuned to their local air quality. For those groups, having extra inhalers on hand or postponing a run could save a life.
“There are not a lot of places in the U.S. where being ready for some degree of smoke exposure, if you’re at risk, doesn’t make sense,” Lahm said. “It’s just good preparation. We keep a flashlight for when the lights go out in our homes — we need to look at smoke the same way.”
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Misan Lychee is made with “some” carbon dioxide captured “directly from the air,” along with 14.6 grams of added sugar.
I believe life should be a little bit silly, which is why I’m a sucker for a gimmick. A hotel just for napping? Sign me up. A “convenience store” full of items made of felt? I now own a bag of inedible Fritos. Hot sauce packaged to look like dynamite? Cute, add to cart.
And when I found out that you can buy soda carbonated with CO2 obtained via direct air capture, I said, Take my sixteen American dollars and put it on ice.
Misan Lychee (which yes, only comes in lychee flavor “at the moment”) represents the distant hopes and dreams of DAC. Currently, there isn’t demand for carbon dioxide at direct air capture prices; it’s much, much cheaper just to buy the concentrated byproduct of, say, natural gas- and coal-fired ammonia plants to carbonate your soda than to go through the trouble of sucking the 0.04% of the air that is CO2 out of the atmosphere for a few bubbles. That’s why the carbon removal industry is propped up by offtake agreements and credits, at least until Brutalism comes back in a big way and dramatically increases the demand for concrete manufactured with stored CO2.
Still, that hasn’t stopped companies from trying. You can buy carbon-sequestered beer, DAC vodka, CO2-captured perfume, and recycled-emission yoga pants. But unlike other consumer products that are, in many cases, made from waste gas captured during industrial processes rather than from true atmospheric CO2, Misan claims on the can to be made from “some” carbon dioxide pulled “directly from the air using a technology called direct air capture.” The bottle sports the logo of Bay Area-based AirMyne, a DAC start-up, which, on further investigation, turns out to own Misan.
My order arrived rattling around in a cardboard box, with three of the cans having popped loose from the six-pack in transit. As someone with no impulse control (which, upon reflection, might be related to my love of gimmicks), I immediately opened a can. Over my laptop. We both got drenched by the resulting geyser. CO2’s presence: confirmed.
What happened next was, admittedly, also user error. I took a sip and immediately went, “Yuck, what?” That’s because after a summer of drinking my way through every Waterloo flavor, I was expecting Misan Lychee to be a seltzer, too. Despite its website describing it as a “climate-forward sparkling water,” it is not, and you can taste all 14.6 grams of its added sugar. It has a moderately cloying, perfumy flavor that my dad described as “strawberry, but disturbing?” when I asked him to do a blind taste test. I think it’s perhaps closer in taste to pear, and I remain optimistic that someone who has more free time than me could come up with a recipe to turn it into a “sustainable” spritz.
Actually, to that point — is it sustainable? It notably doesn’t claim to be, and it has its skeptics. Richard Waite of the World Resources Institute pointed out on Bluesky that carbon dioxide is only “sequestered” until it leaves our metabolic system the usual way, via exhalation or burps. Still, his questions about the energy source of AirMyne’s direct air capture — and thus the carbon-emitting or -removing properties of the soda — generated lots of good puns in the replies. “Run out of polar before we run out of Polar” comes to us courtesy of Costa Samaras.
The second Misan Lychee I cracked also soaked me, although I was prepared this time and at least opened it out of range of electronics. I also paid more attention to the can, which has an unusual but not unpleasant matte feel. The list of ingredients on the back seems surprisingly long for the supposed golden age of “gut sodas” that advertise such things as the inclusion of “plant fibers.” Rather than prebiotics, Misan contains “xanthan gum” and an ominous concoction identified as “cloudy agent.”
If Misan isn’t healthier for me or the planet, then what is it for, exactly? I returned to the six lines of all-caps text printed on the front of the can:
Some of the CO2 in this can was pulled directly from the air using a technology called direct air capture (DAC). If scaled, DAC could do more than just carbonate your water. It could remove millions of tons of CO2 from the atmosphere, fighting climate change.
Gimmicks are, ultimately, ways to sell you something. Water gets packaged to look more “manly;” you might buy a Coca-Cola instead of a Pepsi if it has your name on it. But Misan isn’t ultimately selling itself with the promise of bubbles brought to you by DAC. It’s the other way around: Misan is the marketing vehicle for AirMyne. They want you to drink the DAC Kool-Aid.
Will I buy Misan Lychee again? Not likely: I have De La Calle! Mango Chili Mexican sodas to drink, made from the fermented rind of pineapples — BYOCO2, if you will.
Then again, never say never. If I learn about the existence of Misan Chikoo or Misan Pistachio-Rosewater during a weak moment, I’ll probably be down another $16. But I’ll open it over the sink this time.
On transmission corridors, China’s Russian reactor, and long-duration energy storage
Current conditions: Tropical Storm Cristobal formed in the Atlantic yet poses no real threats to land, unlike another budding storm gathering strength in the southern Caribbean • Powerful storms spurred derecho winds that spawned tornadoes across the Midwest and left 800,000 without power yesterday morning • Britain’s Met Office issued an amber weather warning as temperatures across eastern England soared to nearly 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

In the waning days of the Biden administration, the Department of Energy set about clearing one of the biggest bottlenecks to expanding America’s aging electrical grid: Literally expanding the grid. You don’t need to have read excellent books like Russell Gold’s Superpower or features like my colleague Robinson Meyer’s deep dive into the SunZia saga to know that building transmission lines is a huge challenge in the United States. To address this, the Biden-era agency proposed three National Interest Electric Transmission Corridors — essentially a series of projects in mostly red and purple states that could now enlist the federal government’s help to speed through the typical hurdles in getting approvals from so many jurisdictions and landowners across hundreds of miles of a power line’s route. Not anymore. On Wednesday evening, the Trump administration announced the cancellation of all three corridors, declaring projects that would likely have helped shore up the grid amid surging demand from data centers to be part of Democrats’ “Green New Scam.”
“Transmission policy must serve the American people — not special interests or a climate-alarmist agenda that drives up costs, worsens reliability, and disregards the concerns of local communities,” Secretary of Energy Chris Wright said in a statement. Still, his agency pointed to billions in loans it’s offered to utilities for grid upgrades and a study, released last month, highlighting what the Trump administration sees as the country’s future transmission needs. The rescission doesn’t necessarily mean the projects linked to the corridors are dead. When the Energy Department first announced the corridors in December 2024, the agency stressed that the designation didn’t guarantee federal approvals, merely speed projects on the pathway to getting answers. Those include NextEra Energy’s 73-mile Lake Erie Connector between Canada and Pennsylvania, two projects in the Southwestern Grid Connector Corridor, and the Transmission and Renewables Interstate Bulk Electric Supply Project in the Tribal Energy Access Corridor.
When Elon Musk announced plans last year to build out 100 gigawatts of solar manufacturing capacity, analysts and industry watchers scratched their heads. That’s more than double the amount of panels the U.S. installs each year at a time when photovoltaic factories face fierce competition from overseas competitors — namely China — and withering support domestically with the end of the federal tax credit designed to spur demand for American-made solar. Yet Musk is charging ahead with what Tesla has dubbed Project Crystal Sun. In a document submitted to Texas regulators, the company said it was “currently evaluating the feasibility of constructing its solar cell manufacturing facility at various locations across multiple U.S. states.” That includes the Lone Star State, to which Musk decamped from California. “Should Tesla make the decision to develop the proposed project in another state, Texas would miss the opportunity to attract billions of dollars in investment, help create thousands of full-time jobs for its residents, and become a hub for domestic solar cell manufacturing in the U.S.,” Tesla stated in the filing.
Things were also looking rosy for wind turbine manufacturers. Shares in Vestas closed nearly 20% higher on Wednesday after turbine orders bounced back, giving the company the liquidity to buy back its own stock. New orders for its turbines climbed from 2 gigawatts during the second quarter of 2025 to 3.35 gigawatts during the same period this year, the Financial Times reported.
The storms that barreled across the Midwest this week not only downed power for more than 800,000 people, they also left drivers without access to fuel. On Wednesday, the Northwest Indiana Times reported that gas stations in the region were running dry. “Today, we heard that this was open, and this is like the only thing that is open,” Mike Siedentopf, a resident of the Northwest Indiana town of Munster, told CBS News.
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The flagship reactors in China’s nuclear buildout are the Hualong One and the CAP1400, each of which borrows heavily from America’s Westinghouse AP1000. But it’s useful to remember that Beijing is diversifying its atomic fleet. One of the next reactors likely to enter into commercial operations is now Unit 7 at the Tianwan nuclear power station on China’s Yellow Sea coast. On Wednesday, NucNet and World Nuclear News reported that the plant had loaded its first fuel assembly into position in the core of the new reactor. This marks the first time fuel has been loaded into a next-generation Russian reactor in China. Like the AP1000 and China’s versions of it, Rosatom’s VVER-1200 is a third-generation pressurized water reactor, meaning it uses the standard technology for fission with state-of-the-art safety and cooling upgrades. CNNC, the plant’s operator, said it expects to begin commercial operation later this year.
With the battery market booming, the race to commercialize long-duration storage technologies has yielded plenty of attention-grabbing ideas. Form Energy’s approach is proving particularly magnetic for investors. The West Virginia-based startup is seeking to bring rust-powered batteries that last 100 hours to market. On Wednesday, the company unveiled a $750 million Series G financing round, bringing the total equity it’s raised so far to over $2 billion. Its iron-air batteries, which charge through a “reversible rusting” process, have already attracted deals with Google, utility Xcel Energy, and data center giant Crusoe.
Meanwhile, a company commercializing compressed air storage technology just raised another $230 million. Hydrostor uses electricity to compress air and store it in underground hard-rock caverns using water displacement. When the grid needs power, the stored air is reheated and expands, spinning a turbine that generates emissions-free electricity. The Canadian startup pulled in more funding from the Canadian government’s investment fund, Goldman Sachs, and Canada’s pension funds. Another backer in this round is the oilfield services giant Baker Hughes. “The grid needs bankable long-duration energy storage that can be deployed today to enable affordable and reliable electricity for all, and Hydrostor’s continued fundraising success is a testament to the potential of our A-CAES technology to get us there,” Hydrostor CEO Curtis VanWalleghem said in a statement.
A Dr. Phil-linked expedition to find oil in Greenland has been delayed as the island nation’s government rejects the consortium’s right to drill. On Wednesday, the United Kingdom’s 80 Mile exploration company announced the delay in its plans. “While we are disappointed that the timing of the Jameson drilling program has been impacted, the company remains fully committed to advancing this highly prospective project,” 80 Mile executive director Rod McIllree told the Financial Times.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
El Niño is here.
The world’s largest ocean slipped into the weather pattern in the spring, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and the sea surface is now significantly warmer than average in one important region. When you chart ocean temperatures on a map, the “El Niño tongue” (yes, that is what scientists call it) clearly appears:

It might be more accurate to describe El Niño as something that happens to the planet, though. The Pacific occupies about one-third of Earth’s surface. When that third becomes unusually warm, it transforms weather around the world, driving wetter conditions in California, Central America, and South America; and drier weather in Asia, Africa, and Australia.
So far, so normal. El Niño is a standard fluctuation in the Earth’s climate system; we experienced the last one in 2023 and 2024.
But that is roughly where what’s normal about this year’s El Niño ends.
For one, this El Niño is far more intense than we should expect at this time of year. In an El Niño, the Pacific’s average temperature usually rises through the end of December or so; the phenomenon’s original name in Spanish, El niño de Navidad, alluded to the surprising arrival of warm currents in South America around Christmas. In the modern satellite era, the warmest El Niño ever measured happened in 2015, and ocean temperatures peaked at 3.1 degrees Celsius in November and December of that year. We called that a “Super El Niño” for just how abnormal it was.
Yet the Pacific is already more than 2.6 degrees Celsius (or nearly 5 degrees Fahrenheit) above normal — making this the third strongest El Niño ever measured in the satellite era — and it is only August. We still have four months to go, and this El Niño is already a record-smasher. More ominously, models expect that this El Niño could eventually grow to more than 4 degrees Celsius, or 7 degrees Fahrenheit, above normal.
What will that mean for the world? According to a recent Science study, the average El Niño can cost the global economy more than $3 trillion. The world is richer now than it was a decade or two ago, which should make it better able to withstand disaster. But this El Niño is so far out of sample that it’s hard to know what it could do.
And perhaps more importantly — as the climate scientist Zeke Hausfather, the guest of our new episode of Shift Key says today — it will offer a kind of preview of what the planet’s normal climate will resemble a decade from now. This El Niño is likely to push 2027’s average temperature above 1.5 degrees Celsius, the nominal threshold at which countries hoped to limit warming as part of the Paris Agreement (although, as you’ll hear, it is slightly more complicated than that).
Which is all to say: I encourage you to listen to our new episode, which is available on Apple, Spotify, or RSS. (A transcript is also available for Heatmap subscribers.) We tackle questions including:
There’s one thought that I didn’t include in the episode, however. Since late 2023, political discussion of climate change has decreased. This isn’t a phenomenon limited to any one faction of the Democratic Party — the progressives Abdul El-Sayed and Zohran Mamdani have downplayed climate policy roughly as much as, say, moderates like Mary Peltola and James Talarico have — but it is a clear trend. The American media’s coverage of climate change has declined during the same period. This “climate hushing” is not because politicians stopped caring per se, I think, but because nobody is sure how to talk about the issue in a politically useful way anymore, especially after the “climate = jobs” rhetoric that underpinned the Biden administration’s policy failed to retain voters in 2024.
I don’t believe (and think that political science has disproven) that extreme weather can “awaken” the public to climate change. Even against a gradually warming baseline, the weather — and public attention — shift far too often for that. But media coverage is loosely responsive to events. When the super El Niño of 2015 and 2016 smashed the then-record for the hottest year ever measured, it helped initiate a new era of public and elite concern about climate change. That El Niño’s heat waves, wildfires, and mass coral bleaching previewed the far worse disasters of the decade that followed. This El Niño’s disasters and broken temperature records could be worse — and even less ignorable.