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The same technology that powers your cell phone also helps expand the reach of renewable energy.

Batteries are the silent workhorses of our technological lives, powering our phones, computers, tablets, and remotes. But their impact goes far beyond our daily screentime — they’re also transforming the electricity grid itself. Grid-scale batteries store excess renewable energy and release it as needed, compensating for the fact that solar and wind resources aren’t always available on demand.
The price of the most ubiquitous battery technology — lithium-ion — has fallen remarkably in the past 15 years. That’s allowed for an enormous buildout of battery storage systems in the U.S. and beyond, which has in turn helped to integrate more renewables onto the grid than ever before. With the assistance of batteries, California ran entirely on clean energy for the equivalent of 51 days last year, while South Australia managed the same for 99 days.
Even as deployment accelerates, startups and other innovators are working to improve on standard lithium-ion tech — or in some cases, supplant it. We’ll get into all that soon, but first, let’s start with a little Battery 101.
All electrochemical batteries — that’s everything from your standard AA to grid-scale lithium-ion systems — work by turning chemical energy into electrical energy through what’s known as an electrochemical reaction. These batteries have three primary components:
Grid batteries charge when there’s excess renewable energy on the grid or when demand for energy is low. When a lithium-ion battery is charging, lithium ions move from the cathode to the anode, where they’re stored. When the battery discharges electricity back to the grid, lithium ions move from the anode to the cathode. This movement triggers the release of electrons at the anode, which move through an external wire that carries power to the grid.
There’s variation within the realm of lithium-ion batteries. For example, some use different cathode chemistries, a solid electrolyte, or a pure lithium metal anode. Within the broader world of electrochemical batteries, there are also a variety of alternate chemistries including sodium-ion, lithium-sulfur, and iron-air (more on those below).
But if one broadens the definition of a battery to include any system that stores energy, that’s when the possibilities really open up. In this sense, a battery could be a pumped hydropower storage system, in which energy is stored by moving water uphill into a reservoir and later releasing it to generate electricity through kinetic energy. A battery could also be energy stored as heat or compressed air. Many of these mechanisms rely on converting stored energy into electricity by turning a turbine or generator.
Batteries help to stabilize the electric grid and help communities and grid operators to take full advantage of their renewable energy resources by providing a reliable power supply when, as the saying goes, the sun isn’t shining and the wind isn’t blowing. New solar or wind plants combined with battery storage can also be highly cost-effective, achieving power prices that are competitive with or lower than those of new natural gas facilities in many cases.
Homes and businesses can also install their own personal battery storage systems to bank energy from rooftop solar panels or directly from the grid. This allows individuals and companies to lower their electricity bills by charging their batteries when grid prices are low and using stored energy when prices are high.
By the end of last year, the installed capacity of utility-scale batteries in the U.S. reached about 26 gigawatts, surpassing the cumulative capacity of pumped hydro for the first time. So while pumped hydro can still store a larger amount of total energy, batteries can now deliver more instantaneous power to the grid than any other energy storage resource. And though that 26 gigawatts represents a mere 2% of the U.S.’s total 1,230 gigawatts of generation capacity, the battery sector is growing rapidly. The International Energy Agency reported in February that planned capacity additions for this year totaled 18.2 gigawatts for the U.S. alone.
Lithium-ion batteries weren’t originally designed for grid-scale energy storage. Rather, they were commercialized in the early 1990s for use in portable consumer electronics such as camcorders, cell phones, and laptops. These batteries proved to be more energy dense, lighter, and longer lasting than their predecessors, and were thus eventually adopted for a whole host of applications, including the growing electric vehicle market in the 2010s.
As electric vehicle production ramped up throughout the decade, manufacturers scaled up their production of lithium-ion batteries, quickly driving down prices — from 2010 to 2020 the cost of battery packs declined nearly 90%. Production became primarily concentrated in East Asia, where companies such as CATL, LG Energy Solution, and Panasonic emerged as dominant players.
As the cheapest and most mature battery tech on the market, lithium-ion thus became the default for grid developers looking to manage the variability of intermittent solar and wind resources. As renewables deployment surged, adding battery storage to these facilities started to become more cost-effective than building new fossil-fuel facilities in some markets and provided a reliable way to regulate the grid’s frequency. Lithium-ion batteries can begin absorbing or delivering power at a moment’s notice, which is integral to keeping the grid balanced.
While lithium-ion batteries have never been a very practical or economical option when it comes to long-duration storage — that is, the ability to dispatch energy for more than about four to eight hours at a time — they are well suited to applications such as storing excess solar produced during the day for use in the evening, or smoothing out the fluctuations in renewable resources throughout the day.
For one, China essentially has a virtual monopoly on the lithium-ion battery industry. The country made EV production a national priority beginning in the 2000s, and by the 2010s it was heavily subsidizing battery and EV manufactures alike. Thus, China came to dominate the supply chain at nearly every level, from raw materials refining to cell manufacturing, anode and cathode production, and battery pack assembly. Ideally, the U.S. would lessen its technological reliance on a nation that it’s long seen as an adversary, but building a domestic lithium-ion battery industry from scratch is an extremely complex and expensive endeavor.
In terms of technical drawbacks, most lithium-ion batteries use a flammable liquid electrolyte. That’s prone to catching fire if a battery component or surrounding equipment fails, if a cell is punctured or simply overheats, as illustrated by the Moss Landing fire in California, which broke out in January at one the world’s largest battery storage facilities. While the energy density of lithium-ion is a main selling point, the flipside is that in a fire, more energy equals more heat. And since grid-scale systems pack battery cells close together, a fire in one cell can spread quickly across an entire facility.
Finally, in terms of cost, there’s only so far lithium-ion batteries can fall due to the expense of the raw materials. The price of lithium itself has been notoriously volatile. After hitting record highs in 2022, the commodity price subsequently collapsed after a wave of new mining projects oversupplied the market. This type of volatility wreaks havoc for battery storage developers and their balance sheets, thus spurring interest in chemistries that offer lower, more stable costs, as well as technologies with potentially superior cycle life, energy density, discharge times, and safety profiles.
The most widely commercialized spin on conventional lithium-ion batteries, which are traditionally made with an NMC cathode, is a variant known as lithium iron phosphate, or LFP. The iron-phosphate bond in a LFP cathode is very strong, making it more thermally stable than those in NMC batteries. LFP materials are also more structurally durable than nickel and cobalt, meaning these batteries can be charged and discharged more times before wearing out. Finally, LFPs are also cheaper and more sustainable, as the cathode materials are plentiful and less environmentally damaging to mine. LFP’s main drawback is its lower energy density, but its many advantages have enabled it to overtake NMC as the leading chemistry for new battery energy storage systems.
All the other competitors have much lower levels of commercial maturity. But on the plus side, this means there’s an opportunity to build out domestic supply chains for them. Sodium-ion batteries, for example, replace lithium with sodium, which is far more abundant. They’re also more thermally stable. Unfortunately for U.S. manufacturers, China is already surging ahead in the race to scale up this tech. Then there’s the more nascent lithium-sulfur batteries. They have a very high theoretical energy density, which could lead to lighter and more compact energy storage systems if companies can overcome core technical challenges such as short cycle life.
Flow batteries are also an option that’s been studied for decades. These store energy in liquid electrolytes held in external tanks rather than in solid electrodes. This presents a promising option for longer-duration energy storage since the design can be scaled easily — more energy simply means bigger tanks. Because the active materials are liquid, these batteries also have a very long cycle life, and their water-based designs are non-flammable. Flow batteries are also much bulkier, however, and haven’t yet scaled enough to become cost-competitive with lithium-ion under most circumstances.
Getting into the realm of long-duration storage also opens up possibilities such as iron-air batteries, which are being commercialized by the Massachusetts-based Form Energy. In theory, these can discharge for 100-plus hours by taking in oxygen from the air and reacting it with iron to form rust, releasing electrons in the process. When the battery is charging, an electrical current converts the rust back into iron. Because iron is cheap and plentiful, this tech could also be significantly less expensive than LFP batteries. And since it uses a water-based electrolyte, these batteries aren’t flammable. The first iron-air battery plant is set to come online at the end of the year.
Beyond the electrochemical domain, there’s a wider, weirder world of energy storage technologies, many of which are being explored for their long-duration storage potential. Pumped hydro can only be built only in very specific geographies, so it’s not a main competitor in many regions today. But gravity-based storage companies such as Energy Vault often take inspiration from this approach, storing energy by using excess electricity to raise heavy objects such as concrete blocks. When energy is needed, the blocks are lowered, causing the motors that lifted them to run in reverse and act as generators to produce electricity.
Canadian company Hydrostor is pursuing another method, which involves using surplus energy to compress air and pump it into a water-filled cavern, displacing the water to the surface. To discharge, water is released back into the cavern, pushing the air to the surface, where it mixes with stored heat to turn an electricity-generating turbine.
Then there’s thermal energy storage — essentially storing energy as heat in materials such as carbon blocks. This method has the potential to decarbonize industrial processes such as steel and cement production, which demand high temperatures that are difficult to achieve with electricity. Via resistance heating — the same technology as a toaster — electricity from renewable energy is converted into heat, which is then stored in thermally conductive rocks or bricks. When that heat is needed, it can be delivered directly as hot air or steam to the facility, or in some cases converted back into electricity for use at the facility or on the grid.
Experts say that none of the aforementioned technologies is likely to fully replace lithium-ion anytime soon. That’s in large part because lithium-ion is a fully mature technology with well-established supply chains, but also because it’s simply efficient and cost effective for what it can do.
Many of the technologies mentioned could, however, become effective complements to lithium-ion on the grid. For example, it’s possible that some combination of iron-air batteries, gravity energy storage, and compressed air energy storage could meet longer-duration needs — in some cases discharging continuously for days at a time. Thermal energy storage could also play a role here, as well as in decarbonizing high-heat heavy industries, which don’t make economic sense to electrify with lithium-ion batteries.
Sodium-ion batteries could eventually become cheaper than LFP, but because the tech has yet to scale and reach that price point, it’s still primarily viewed as a complementary solution. Having other viable battery chemistries such as sodium-ion would help reduce the overall demand for lithium, thus working to stabilize prices and risk in the battery supply chain as a whole. But because sodium-ion is less energy dense, it probably won’t make sense in space-constrained regions.
As for lithium-sulfur, the tech is just beginning to hit the market as companies such as Lyten focus on early applications in drones, satellites, and two- and three-wheelers. But it doesn’t yet have the cycle life to make sense for any grid-scale applications, and whether it will ever get there has yet to be discovered.
Yes, but battery recycling — especially for battery energy storage systems — is still a nascent industry. And it remains uncertain whether recycling and reusing battery materials is financially viable in an environment where lithium prices have plummeted and other key battery minerals such as nickel, cobalt, and graphite have become significantly cheaper. LFP’s cost efficiency improvements have further depressed interest in recycling their materials. But there’s still interest in this sector as it could help establish a domestic mineral supply chain, greatly reduce the need for environmentally disruptive mining projects, and ameliorate problems such as toxic chemical leaching and fire risk, which can occur when batteries are improperly disposed of.
Because grid-scale battery deployments didn’t begin to ramp in earnest until 2019, most systems have yet to reach the end of their useful life, which can last on the order of 10 to 20 years. As such, most leading battery recyclers — such as the well-funded startup Redwood Materials — are primarily focused on old EV batteries for now. Redwood says it can recover, on average, over 95% of battery materials such as lithium, nickel, cobalt, copper, aluminum, and graphite. Recently, the company has also been working to repurpose old EV batteries with some life left in them to make grid-scale battery storage systems, and it’s made forays into recycling grid batteries as well.
One of the industry’s former leaders, Li-Cycle, filed for bankruptcy in May, while another player, Ascend Elements, has paused construction on its recycling facility in Kentucky due to “changing market conditions.” As the U.S. seeks to develop a more localized battery supply chain, however, recycling will only become more critical.
It’s a mixed bag. On the one hand, President Trump’s steep tariffs on Chinese goods are set to substantially increase prices for domestic battery energy storage systems, given that the U.S. imports nearly all of its battery cells from China. This will threaten developers’ margins, potentially leading to project cancellations or delays.
Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill maintained tax credits for battery energy storage projects through 2032, however stringent foreign sourcing rules now apply, withholding tax credits from projects that source a certain percentage of their components from Russia, Iran, North Korea, and most importantly, China. Given how China-centric the battery supply chain is, achieving the required sourcing levels could prove difficult, though exactly how difficult ultimately depends on forthcoming guidance from the Treasury department.
On the bright side, the administration is also bullish on bolstering the U.S. supply chain for critical minerals and rare earths. In a recent meeting, White House officials told a group of critical minerals firms that they would guarantee a price floor for their products. Such a policy could, of course, bolster the domestic battery supply chain, though at the risk of making this tech more expensive.
Assuming the U.S. navigates the current political headwinds and maintains a degree of momentum in its transition to clean energy, battery energy storage will play an increasingly critical role on the future grid, both domestically and globally. As electricity demand grows and renewables make up a progressively larger proportion of the mix, batteries will help ensure grid flexibility and resiliency. That will be increasingly important as extreme weather events become more common and severe.
In some markets, solar plus storage facilities have been more economical than so-called fossil fuel “peaker plants” for years. Peakers fire up during times of maximum electricity demand, and as batteries continue to fall in price, stored renewable power becomes an ever-cheaper way to supplement supply. As long-duration storage tech advances and comes down the cost curve, renewables will be able to provide firm baseload power over a period of days or even weeks, making fossil fuel infrastructure increasingly obsolete.
The International Energy Agency reports that in order to reach net zero emissions by 2050, global grid-scale battery storage needs to expand to nearly 970 gigawatts of capacity by 2030. That means annual grid-scale deployments must average about 120 gigawatts per year from 2023 to 2030. So while last year saw a record-setting 55 gigawatts of newly installed grid-scale capacity, that type of hockey-stick growth will need to accelerate even further if batteries are to pull their weight in the IEA’s net zero scenario.
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Plus news on cloud seeding, fission for fusion, and more of the week’s biggest money moves.
From beaming solar power down from space to shooting storm clouds full of particles to make it rain, this week featured progress across a range of seemingly sci-fi technologies that have actually been researched — and in some cases deployed — for decades. There were, however, few actual funding announcements to speak of, as earlier-stage climate tech venture funds continue to confront a tough fundraising environment.
First up, I explore Meta’s bet on space-based solar as a way to squeeze more output from existing solar arrays to power data centers. Then there’s the fusion startup Zap Energy, which is shifting its near-term attention toward the more established fission sector. Meanwhile, a weather modification company says it’s found a way to quantify the impact of cloud seeding — a space-age sounding practice that’s actually been in use for roughly 80 years. And amidst a string of disappointments for alternate battery chemistries, this week brings multiple wins for the sodium-ion battery sector.
One might presume that terrestrial solar paired with batteries would prove perfectly adequate for securing 24/7 clean energy moving forward, as global prices for panels and battery packs continue to fall. But the startup Overview Energy, which uses lasers to beam solar power from space directly onto existing solar arrays, thinks its space-based solar energy systems will prove valuable for powering large loads like data centers through the night. Now Meta is backing that premise, signing a first-of-its-kind agreement with Overview this week that secures early access for up to a gigawatt of capacity from the startup’s system.
Initial orbital demonstrations are slated for 2028, with commercial power delivery targeted for 2030. It’s an ambitious timeline, and certainly not the first effort to commercialize space-based solar, though prior analyses have generally concluded that while the physics check out, the economics and logistics don’t. Overview Energy thinks its found the core unlocks though: “geographic untethering,” which allows it to direct its beam to ground-based solar arrays anywhere in the world based on demand, and high-efficiency lasers capable of converting near-infrared light into electricity much more efficiently than pure sunlight.
The startup is targeting between $60 and $100 per megawatt-hour by 2035, at which point the goal is to be putting gigawatts of space solar on the grid. “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere,” Marc Berte, founder and CEO of Overview Energy, told me when I interviewed him last December. “You’re profitable at $100 bucks a megawatt-hour somewhere, instantaneously, all the time.”
Launch costs have also fallen sharply since the last serious wave of space-solar research, and Overview has already booked a 2028 launch with SpaceX. Solar power beamed from space also sidesteps two earthly constraints — land use and protracted grid interconnection timelines. So while this seemingly sci-fi vision remains unproven, it might be significantly more plausible than it once appeared. And Meta’s certainly not alone in taking that bet — Overview has already raised a $20 million seed round led by Lowercarbon Capital, Prime Movers Lab, and Engine Ventures.
Fusion startups are increasingly looking to nearer-term revenue opportunities as they work toward commercializing the Holy Grail of energy generation. Industry leader Commonwealth Fusion Systems is selling its high-temperature superconducting magnets to other developers, while other companies including Shine Technologies are generating income by producing nuclear isotopes for medical imaging. Now one startup, Zap Energy, is pushing that playbook a step further, announcing this week that it plans to develop fission reactors before putting its first fusion electrons on the grid.
Specifically, the startup is now attempting to develop small modular reactors — hardly a novel idea, as companies like Oklo, Kairos, and TerraPower have already secured significant public and private funding and struck major data center deals. Zap, however, thinks it can catch up to these new competitors in part by leveraging design commonalities between fission and fusion systems, including the use of liquid metals, engineered neutron environments, and high-power-density systems. “Fission and fusion are two expressions of the same underlying physics," Zap’s co-founder Benj Conwayby said in the press release. "This isn’t a pivot — by integrating them into a single platform, we can move faster, reduce risk, and build a more enduring company."
As the company outlines on its website, pursuing both pathways could eventually manifest in the development of a hybrid fusion-fission system, while also giving Zap practical experience interfacing with regulators and securing approvals. As The New York Times reports, the company is targeting an early 2030s timeline for its fission reactors, although Zap has yet to specify a timeline for fusion commercialization. Like so many of its peers, the company is eyeing data centers as a promising initial market, though bringing its first units online will likely require a significant influx of additional capital.
For all the concern surrounding geoengineering fixes for climate change such as solar radiation management, there’s one form of weather modification that’s been in use since the 1940s — cloud seeding. This practice typically involves flying planes into the center of storms and releasing flares that disperse a chemical called silver iodide into the clouds. This causes the water droplets within the clouds to freeze, increasing the amount of precipitation that falls as either rain or snow.
Alarming as it may sound for the uninitiated, there’s no evidence that silver iodide causes harm at current usage levels. But what has been far more difficult to pin down is efficacy — specifically, how much additional precipitation cloud seeding actually creates. That’s where the startup Rainmaker comes in. The company, which deploys unmanned drones to inject the silver iodide, says that its advanced radar and satellite systems indicate that its operations generated over 143 million gallons of additional freshwater in Oregon and Utah this year — roughly equivalent to the annual water usage of about 1,750 U.S. households. The findings have not yet been peer reviewed, but if accurate, they would make Rainmaker the first private company to quantify the impact of its cloud seeding operations.
Cloud seeding is already a well-oiled commercial business, with dozens of states, utility companies and ski resorts alike using it to increase snowfall in the drought-stricken American West and worldwide — China in particular spends tens of millions of dollars per year on the technology. Rainmaker has a particular aspiration: to help restore Utah’s Great Salt Lake, which has been shrinking since the 1980s amid rising water demand and increased evaporation driven by warmer temperatures.
In a press release, the company’s 26-year-old founder and CEO Augustus Doricko said, “With the newfound capability to measure our yields and quantify our results, Rainmaker will go forward and continue our mission to refill the Great Salt Lake, end drought in the American West and deliver water abundance wherever it is needed most around the world."
Sodium-ion batteries have long been touted as an enticing alternative — or at least complement — to lithium-ion systems for energy storage. They don’t rely on scarce and costly critical minerals like lithium, nickel, or cobalt, and have the potential to be far less flammable. The relatively nascent market also offers an opening for the U.S. to gain a foothold in this segment of the battery supply chain. But especially domestically, the industry has struggled to gain traction. Two sodium-ion startups, Natron and Bedrock Materials, both closed up shop last year as prices for lithium-iron-phosphate batteries cratered, eroding sodium-ion’s cost advantage, while the cost of manufacturing batteries in the U.S. constrained their ability to scale.
But one notable bright spot is the startup Alsym Energy, which announced this week that it has signed a letter-of-intent with long-duration energy storage company ESS Inc. for 8.5 gigawatt-hours of sodium-ion cells and modules, marking ESS’s expansion into the short and medium-duration storage market. Alsym’s CEO, Mukesh Chatter, told me this represents the largest deal for sodium-ion batteries in the U.S. to date — although it’s not yet a binding contract. Notably, it came just a day after the world’s largest-ever order for these batteries, as CATL disclosed a 60 gigawatt-hour sodium-ion agreement with energy storage integrator HyperStrong. Taken together, these partnerships suggest the sector is finally picking up durable traction both domestically and abroad.
ESS, however, is facing its own operational headwinds, nearly shuttering its Oregon manufacturing plant last year before securing an unexpected cash infusion and pivoting to a new, longer-duration storage product. Chatter remains exuberant about Alsym’s deal with the storage provider, however, telling me it represents a major proof point in terms of broader industry acceptance and an acknowledgement that “the benefits [sodium-ion] brings to the table are significant enough to overcome any stickiness” and hesitation around adopting new battery chemistries.
Chatter said that interest is now pouring in from all sides, citing inquiries from lithium-ion battery manufacturers, utilities, and defense companies and highlighting use cases ranging from data centers to apartment buildings and mining operations as likely early deployment targets.
A handful of startups are promising better, cheaper, safer water purification tech.
The need for desalination has long been clear in water-scarce regions of the planet. But with roughly a quarter of the global population now facing extreme water stress and drought conditions only projected to intensify, the technology is becoming an increasingly necessary tool for survival in a wider array of geographies.
Typically, scaling up desalination infrastructure has meant building costly, energy-intensive coastal plants that rely on a process called reverse osmosis, which involves pushing seawater through semi-permeable membranes that block salt and other contaminants, leaving only fresh water behind. Now, however, a number of startups are attempting to rework that model, with solutions that range from subsea facilities to portable desalination devices for individuals and families.
They could find potential customers across the globe. Many countries in the Middle East — including Saudi Arabia, Israel, Bahrain, Kuwait, and Qatar — rely on desalination for the bulk of their municipal water. Meanwhile, drought-prone regions from Australia to the Caribbean and California have also turned to the technology to shore up supply. But as the Iran war has underscored, this vital infrastructure is increasingly being treated as a military target, exposing a significant vulnerability in a resource relied upon by hundreds of millions.
One more resilient alternative is to move the plants underwater — making them more difficult to target while also harnessing subsurface pressure to do some of the energy-intensive work of desalination.
“I came up with the idea of using natural pressure to run the process,” Robert Bergstrom, a veteran of the water industry and CEO of the desalination startup OceanWell, told me. That meant “putting the membranes in a place where it’s already 800 pounds [of pressure] per square inch” — e.g. inside pods on the ocean floor, each capable of producing 1 million gallons of freshwater daily. By using the natural pressure of the ocean to drive the reverse osmosis process, this approach cuts energy use by about 40%, he said, thus slashing the system’s largest operating cost: electricity.
OceanWell’s design maintains a lower internal pressure within each pod than the surrounding environment, causing seawater to flow passively inside and push through membranes — just like on land, but without the high-pressure pumps. Compact pumps inside the pods then push the freshwater up a pipeline to the shore, while the resulting brine dissipates in the deep ocean.
The method also helps solve another problem with conventional desalination: environmental impact. Today’s facilities typically produce a more concentrated brine that they discharge at the ocean’s surface, which is more disruptive to marine ecosystems. The plants also frequently cause damage to organisms large and small by either trapping them against water intake screens or pulling them into the plant itself. That’s been a big sticking point when it comes to permitting these facilities, especially in California where the startup is based. OceanWell’s system, Bergstrom said, is able to filter out larger organisms while allowing microscopic ones to pass through the pods and return to the ocean.
The company began a trial last year in partnership with Las Virgenes Municipal Water District in southern California, testing its system in a freshwater reservoir full of marine life to verify its safety. Next it will test its pods in the ocean before undertaking a pilot in a to-be-determined location — California, Hawaii, and Nice in southern France are all contenders. If all goes according to plan, OceanWell will follow that up with a full-fledged commercial system targeted for 2030.
But it’s not the only startup pursuing underwater desalination — or even the one with the most aggressive timeline. Two years ago, Norwegian startup Flocean spun out of the subsea pump specialist FSubsea with a similar technical approach and a plan to deploy its first commercial system off Norway’s western coast this year. Flocean has already logged over a year of testing in the deep ocean, a stage OceanWell has yet to reach.
OceanWell thinks it can differentiate itself by meeting the unusually stringent permitting required in California. “If we can get it done in California, then the rest of the world will follow,” Bergstrom told me, meaning more resilient, more energy-efficient freshwater infrastructure for all. But it’s a high bar. The last major effort to build a desalination facility in the state led to a long-running fight that ended in 2022 with a rejection. Over 100 groups opposed the facility proposed for Orange County, citing risks to marine life, as well as high energy requirements and costs, with many arguing that alternatives — such as conservation and wastewater treatment — would be more superior options.
Megan Mauter, an associate professor of civil engineering at Stanford, thinks the groups may have a point, especially when it comes to overall system costs. The high capex of desalination can be hard to justify in California, she told me, since the state doesn’t need it 100% of the time, only in bad drought years. For example, just a few weeks ago, The Wall Street Journal reported that San Diego County’s desalination plant, by far the largest in California, now has a surplus of desalinated water that it’s looking to sell to drought-ridden Western states such as Nevada and Arizona.
And while desalination startups purport to cut overall system costs, she has her doubts about that. “The energy savings that they’re going to get are offset by some pretty high increased costs of the other elements of their plant designs,” Mauter told me. “In a subsea system, you’ve got these unproven and not mass-manufactured skids. You’ve got subsea installation, and then mooring it, and putting in pipelines that you’ve got to maintain all the way to land. You’ve got to convey water back to shore, which takes energy, and you are going to have significantly higher maintenance burdens in an open ocean environment.”
Despite her reservations, she certainly sees the appeal of non-traditional water sources, “even at costs that would have been totally infeasible a decade ago.” Municipal planners are staring down a future of worsening drought at the same time that states in the Colorado River basin remain locked in contentious negotiations over water rights, debating how to allocate cuts as river flows have declined nearly 20% since 2000. California’s narrow continental shelf also makes it an ideal environment for subsea desalination, as having deep water close to shore allows the system to harness pressure depths while minimizing the length of the pipeline needed to transport freshwater to land. Norway is also favored in this way.
“I don’t know whether the cost gaps can be solved, but I bet that the technology gaps could be solved,” Mauter told me.
Ultimately, she thinks the binding constraint is likely to be regulatory rather than technical. “Permitting is going to be a nightmare unless something fundamentally changes,” she said. Bergstrom told me that OceanWell is currently working with the California State Water Resources Control Board to revise its rules that govern desalination facilities in order to account for new technologies, though how long that process will take is anyone’s guess.
There’s one idea emerging in this ecosystem that largely sidesteps the regulatory constraints that control our land and seas. The startup Vital Lyfe has developed a portable desalination unit roughly the size of a small cooler that allows individuals and households to produce freshwater on demand with reverse osmosis — effectively decentralizing the desalination industry in the same way that the startup’s founders, former SpaceX engineers, helped decentralize internet infrastructure with Starlink.
“We’ve seen this paradigm shift coming out of Starlink that traditional, large, centralized, systems are very expensive,” Vital Lyfe CEO Jon Criss told me. “They’re hard to deploy and hard to scale up when you really need them.”
After raising a $24 million seed round in December, the startup launched its first product a few weeks ago, which retails for $750. At that price point, it’s a great deal for sailors spending days or weeks at sea, but likely too expensive for the individuals in remote communities far from water infrastructure that might need it most. Criss’s goal is to quickly iterate on this first product to bring more affordable models to the market in short order.
Portable desalination devices aren’t anything new in and of themselves — they’ve been used in military, maritime, and humanitarian scenarios for decades. The startup’s breakthrough, Criss explained, is more about manufacturing efficiency than technology. “We went all the way back, looked at why every component was designed and how to redesign it for high rate manufacturing. So we were able to substantially drop the cost of ownership and operation of these things.”
You’ll soon find Vital Lyfe’s product in big box retail stores, Criss said, though he also aims to partner with large-scale desalination facilities and utilities to help boost their output. Either way, the startup is already generating buzz — it’s seen significant inbound interest as of late, as the inherent resilience of its small system stands in sharp contrast to the vulnerability of conventional desalination infrastructure now being targeted in the Middle East.
The company is scaling up to meet the moment, building out a facility in Los Angeles county that Criss said will eventually produce 120 portable units per hour. He’s aiming to start production by summer’s end, ramping to full capacity by October. “Within the next three years we plan to account for about 10% of total membrane production at Vital Lyfe alone,” he told me, referring specifically to the production for the desalination industry.
The future of the industry, of course, could look like any combination of all of these approaches — portable devices, conventional plants on land, and modular systems at sea. What seems certain is that as the globe continues to heat up, so will desalination tech.
Why local governments are getting an earful about “infrasound”
As the data center boom pressures counties, cities, and towns into fights over noise, the trickiest tone local officials are starting to hear complaints about is one they can’t even hear – a low-frequency rumble known as infrasound.
Infrasound is a phenomenon best described as sounds so low, they’re inaudible. These are the sorts of vibrations and pressure at the heart of earthquakes and volcanic activity. Infrasound can be anything from the waves shot out from a sonic boom or an explosion to very minute changes in air pressure around HVAC systems or refrigerators.
Knowing some of these facilities also have the capacity to produce significant audible noise, growing segments of the population’s more tech-skeptical and health-anxious corners are fretting some data centers could be making a lot of infrasound, too. The whizzing of so many large computational machines combined with cooling fans and other large devices creating so many new columns of air flow. Add onto that any rotational onsite power generation – think natural gas turbines, for example – and you get quite a lot of movement that could potentially produce what they say is infrasound.
Some of the virality of this chatter about infrasound and data centers comes from a video about infrasound created by audio engineer and researcher Benn Jordan. Currently sitting at more than 1 million views, this short YouTube film documents claims that some data centers are operating like “acoustic weapons” through infrasound and harming people. Andy Masley, an “effective altruist” writer, has become the chief critic of the Jordan video, getting into a back-and-forth that’s raised the issue to Internet discourse territory.
The Jordan-Masley infrasound debate is honestly a bit of a mess. So I want to be clear: I’m not going to get into the science of whether or not infrasound poses any kind of public health risk in this article. We can get to that later. It’s worth saying that this subject may need more study and that work is ongoing. Also, talking about infrasound at all can make you honestly sound a little wacky (see: this study blaming people seeing ghosts on infrasound). It might also remind you of another panic in the Electric Age: electromagnetic fields, also known as EMFs. Developers of transmission lines and solar projects have long had to deal with people worried about transmission lines and large electrical equipment potentially glowing with invisible, unhealthy radiation.
In late 2024, I wrote about how an RFK Jr. supporter worried about this form of electrical emission was helping lead the fight against a transmission line in New Jersey for offshore wind. Maybe that’s why it didn’t surprise me one bit when the Health and Human Services secretary himself told a U.S. Senate Committee last week that he was asking the Surgeon General’s office to “do either meta reviews” or “base studies” on noise pollution and EMF radiation from data centers “so we can better inform the American public.”
“There’s a range of injuries that are very, very well documented. They’re neurological – very, very grave neurological injuries, cancer risk,” Kennedy Jr. told the Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions Committee on April 22 in response to a request from Sen. Josh Hawley of Missouri to study the issue. “The risks, to me, are tremendous.”
There’s also the unfortunate reality that infrasound impacts have previously been a cudgel to slow down renewable energy deployment. Wind turbines create infrasound because of the subharmonic frequencies created when one turbine rotates at a slightly different pace than another, producing a slightly dissonant low frequency noise. Groups like the Heartland Institute proudly list this infrasound as one of the reasons wind energy “menaces man and nature.”
But regardless of merit, this concern is already impacting local government decisions around data center projects, much like how one Michigan county sought to restrict solar energy on the same basis.
In February Adrian Shelley, the Texas director for environmental group Public Citizen, implored the city of Red Rock to study changing their noise ordinance to take into account infrasound. “It has effects on sleep patterns, on stress, on cardiovascular health, and it is potentially a very serious concern,” Shelley said at a February 11 city council discussion on data center rules. “It will not be covered by the city’s noise ordinance, which only deals with audible sound.”
Earlier this month in Calvert County, Maryland, a volunteer for their environmental commission recently told the county government that infrasound needs to be factored into their future data center planning. “It will have significant impacts on our region and the Chesapeake and the Patuxent because infrasound isn’t stopped by walls,” commission member Janette Wysocki, a proud land conservationist, said at an April 15 hearing. “It will keep going, it will move through anything. It’s a very long wavelength. So we need to protect our ecosystem.” Wysocki implored the county to consider whether to adjust its noise regulations.
Around the same time, similar concerns were raised in Lebanon, a small city in east-central Pennsylvania. “It permeates through concrete walls, it permeates through the ground,” Thomas Dompier, an associate professor at Lebanon Valley College, said at an April 16 Lebanon County commission hearing on data centers.
Lastly, last week I explained how Loudon County wants to rethink its noise ordinance to deal with low-frequency “hums” from data centers – a concern echoing those who fret infrasound.
Ethan Bourdeau, executive director of standards at Quiet Parks Intentional and a career acoustician and building standards writer, told me that what makes data centers unique is the “constant drone” of noise that could potentially carry subharmonic frequencies. Bourdeau said cities or counties could possibly factor concerns about infrasound into noise ordinances to address those who are most concerned. One way they could do it is by changing how decibels are weighted in the government’s measurements. A-weighting decibel meters are a common form of sound measurement geared toward perceptible noise. Using different systems, like C-weighting or G-weighting, would avoid ways that A-weighting can filter out sub-hearing frequencies.
“These are reporting and weighting systems where a sound level meter taking background noise receives all the unweighted sound and then you apply all these filters afterwards, like an EQ curve,” Bourdeau said.
So I guess if those most concerned about infrasound have their way, a lot of country commissioners and local elected leaders will be heading to the mixing booth.