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SpaceX and Tesla have produced executives and founders across the clean energy world. Here’s what they had to say about working for their former boss.

While SpaceX founder and Tesla CEO Elon Musk is often lauded for turning technology like reusable rockets and American-made electric vehicles into thriving businesses in a way long thought impossible, or at least improbable, he has also more quietly done something about as unlikely: get investors excited about capital-intensive hard tech startups.
For most of the time Musk was sleeping on the floor of Tesla’s factory to oversee Model 3 assembly and his rockets were riding across the country on the back of flatbed trucks, the venture capitalists that fund the next generation of technology companies were largely enamored with software businesses, which required little capital to start up and could scale quickly with accelerating profitability.
Today, thanks in no small part to Musk, hard tech companies are able to raise hundreds of millions of dollars within a few years of being starting up, with top-flight venture capital firms such as Andreessen Horowitz building whole funds devoted to the broad sector.
That investor interest has helped nurture a series of startups founded and led by former SpaceX and Tesla employees. These types of businesses don’t have the forgiving characteristics of software companies; instead, they’re often incredibly capital intensive, and require years of design and manufacturing before profits show up. Climate tech and energy companies almost inevitably fall in this category, often working on trying to turn technology that may mostly exist in a lab with nascent markets and high barriers to scale into something that can generate real returns for investors.
To mark the occasion of SpaceX’s initial public offering, Heatmap decided to survey the landscape of SpaceX and Tesla alumni now cutting their own swath through the climate tech marketplace. We identified 40 founders and executives, who all together spent a total of 252 years working for Musk. They’ve since moved on to companies in 9 different industries, from Musk-adjacent categories such as batteries and electric vehicles to carbon removal and grid tech. Cumulatively they’ve raised at least $27 billion, according to the data available in Crunchbase. (Since we finalized this list, one more Musk alum-founded company has emerged from stealth. Welcome to the world, Ambrosia Energy.)
Heatmap asked these founders and executives by email what they learned from their experiences working at Musk-led companies, and we heard back from more than a dozen of them. The vast majority of those told us it was no accident that they’d ended up where they have after working for Musk.
“While working at Tesla, I was surrounded by people who were there for the hard stuff and thrived on it,” Mateo Jaramillo, co-founder and CEO of the long-duration battery company Form Energy and a former Tesla Energy vice president, told us. “It's not just that they tolerated it — that was the stuff they lived for. There are moments in a company's arc when that kind of mentality is required, and at Tesla in those days it was like walking through a crucible every single day, with truly no idea how things were going to resolve. And yet you keep going and figure it out along the way.”
Musk himself has been a formidable digester of investor capital, including from Founders Fund, the venture capital firm founded by his former PayPal colleague Peter Thiel, which invested in SpaceX before its first successful launch.
Founders Fund has since become an investor in several Musk-alumni-founded companies, including the fuel enrichment startup General Matter, the geothermal company Endurance Energy, and the hydrogen company Hgen.
Another frequent investor, Andreessen Horowitz, had previously been the great promoter of software businesses. Its cofounders Marc Andreessen and Ben Horowitz wrote the seminal essay “Why Software Is Eating The World,” which became a manifesto for its investments in businesses like Facebook (now Meta) and Twitter (now X). Since then, a16z, as it’s known, has expanded its remit and invested in several Musk-alumni founded companies, including the power electronics company Heron Power, the mining services company Mariana Minerals, electric boat company Arc, and home battery company Base Power.
These investments are not just simply giving money to Tesla and SpaceX employees to do the same things they did in their previous jobs. Many of the companies we looked at were founded by SpaceX alumni and have nothing to do with space, rockets, or satellites.
Mike Schroepfer, former Meta chief technical officer and founder of hard tech VC firm Gigascale Capital, which has invested in Heron and Form, as well as clean power and carbon removal company Arbor and nuclear microreactor company Radiant, told us that when founders have a Musk company on their resume, it tells him “they’ve been trained to build in the physical world, which is rarer than people think.”
And what’s rare can be profitable.
“Hardware is capital-intensive for the best possible reason” Schroepfer said. “You’re building the foundations the world runs on, and those things have to work reliably and get cheaper as they scale. The dollar figure tells you investors are starting to take the physical world seriously again.”
Philip Schröder, who left the European battery startup Sonnen to run Tesla’s Germany and Austria business, told us that after he rejoined his former company, the European battery startup, they were able to raise “one of the largest cleantech financing rounds in Europe.”
It’s not just raising money where a SpaceX or Tesla pedigree helps. Many former employees of the two companies left with enough of a financial cushion to take a risk on something new. When asked how being part of SpaceX helped him found his own company, John Bucknell, who worked on the Raptor rocket engine at SpaceX, said that having worked for Musk gave him the “financial freedom” necessary to start a company — in his case Virtus Solis, which is developing solar power in space.
But it also doesn’t hurt when raising money to put a SpaceX or Tesla logo on a slide deck, considering the size of returns they’ve generated for their backers.
Former Tesla employees have started and run some of the buzziest and best funded battery, transportation, and electrical infrastructure companies in the world. These include Lucid Motors, led until recently by former Tesla VP of vehicle engineering Peter Rawlinson, battery recycling company Redwood Materials, founded by former Tesla chief technical officer J.B. Straubel, and Heron Power, founded by Drew Baglino, who worked at Tesla from 2006 to 2024, ending his career there leading its powertrain and energy divisions.
When asked how their current work was connected to their past work for Musk or what they had learned, the founders and executives we surveyed — especially the SpaceX alumni — focused more on management and engineering principles than anything specific to energy or transportation.
“You can get way more done in a day and can move way faster than you think,” Justin Lopas, the co-founder of the home battery company Base Power, and a former manufacturing engineer at SpaceX, told us of what he’d learned from Musk.
Musk’s legendary short deadlines (which he says he only expects to hit about half the time) came up frequently among the group. Describing his time at Tesla, Arch Rao, the founder and chief executive of the smart electric panel company Span and a former head of products at Tesla Energy, told us, “The milestones to hit were incredibly audacious, but with the right group of people, possible. This has been a key model for how Span has scaled from the very early days to today.”
Jonathan Criss, the co-founder and chief executive of the desalination company Vital Lyfe, who worked at SpaceX for over a decade on both the Dragon spacecraft and the satellite communications service Starlink, told us that the rocket company had a unique “building for rate” philosophy, where engineers work backwards from a specific production goal, as opposed to first designing a product and then figuring out how to manufacture it as cheaply as possible. “That capability lets us design and manufacture highly reliable products at a fraction of the cost of most of the industry,” Criss said.
Investors, too, recognize SpaceX and Tesla alumni’s ability to work fast. Schroepfer, of Gigascale Capital, told us that speed sets these founders apart. “They know physical products can take years to get from first unit to cost-competitive scale. Even with a long timeline, they move with urgency,” he said. “They get how iteration and cost-down curves only work if you move fast, learn fast, and scale deliberately.”
Several founders also talked about learning to challenge assumptions. “At Tesla, there was a strong culture of questioning established ways of doing things,” Enric Asuncion, the co-founder and CEO of the EV charging company Wallbox who worked as a program manager for vehicle charging at Tesla, told us. Austin Spiegel, the co-founder and CEO of the infrastructure management software company Sift and a former software engineer at SpaceX, said that his former employer never accepted that something was good enough just because it existed. “Instead of buying off-the-shelf software, they asked, what would this look like if we designed it for a company that's going to launch and land rockets for the first time? That stuck with me.”
A former product engineer for Tesla’s Powerwall battery business, Cole Ashman, gave another example. He described how, for years, enabling a home to island from the power grid during a blackout required a labor-intensive, expensive electrical job. Tesla engineered a backup switch that was quicker and easier to install, but it required utility cooperation. “Conventional wisdom said it would never get broad approval,” Ashman, who founded the battery startup Pila, told us. “Tesla did the unglamorous work of bringing utilities along and moving the codes and standards — and pulled the whole industry forward.”
The other management concept that came up frequently was “ownership,” the idea of devolving responsibility down to engineers who were directly responsible for the projects they were working on. Working at SpaceX “taught me how to run a challenging hardware development program: how to choose and organize engineers around a tough unsolved problem, and give each of them real ownership from concept to mission success,” Colin Ho, founder and chief technology officer at the electrolyzer company Hgen, told us.
Frank Tybor, the chief technology officer at Infravision, the drone grid maintenance company and a former launch engineer at SpaceX, told us that “one of the things that made SpaceX special was the concentration of exceptionally talented people who were willing to take ownership of difficult problems and work across traditional organizational boundaries to solve them.”
Andreessen has endorsed the description of Musk-run companies and SpaceX specifically as a “zone of shocking competence” that attracts the best engineers, which its alumni founders have tried to recreate. Justin Cohen, the founder and CEO of Maritime Fusion who did stints at both Tesla and SpaceX, told us the talent network was “analogous to SEAL Team 6 of engineering; there is no better on earth.”
Several mentioned the Musk alumni network as a recruitment resource for their own businesses. “Tesla has cultivated a highly passionate ecosystem of engineers and tech developers,” Rao, the Span founder, told us. “My experience at Tesla helped me quickly identify what a skillful talent pool looks like and expect rapid and ambitious development from them.”
Brad Hartwig, a former SpaceX manufacturing engineer and founder and chief executive of Arbor Energy told us that “several early Arbor employees came from SpaceX, and that shared experience helped us build a world-class engineering team quickly. Many of us have worked on complex, high-stakes technology; we’ve already proven that we can execute in demanding environments, which helps when building a hard-tech company from scratch.”
When asked to name specific, non-Musk employees that influenced them, one name came up more than another: J.B. Straubel, the former Tesla chief technology officer and founder of Redwood Materials.
“Straubel is easily one of the smartest yet incredibly humble engineers and leaders I’ve had the opportunity to work with,” Rao told us.
Straubel, along with Heron Power’s Drew Baglino, “were both influential in how they helped solve complex problems within the company while dealing with constant pressure on cash & company survival,” Kunal Girotra, former Tesla Energy chief and founder of the battery company Lunar Energy, told us.
Jaramillo, the Form Energy founder, also singled out Straubel and Baglino, saying, “They’re very different people from each other, but both technically world class, with incredibly high standards. They drove that mindset into their teams from an engineering perspective — to never compromise on those standards.” About Straubel specifically, Jaramillo said that he had an “amazingly calibrated impatience, to know precisely when enough study is done, to just push start and get going in the physical world, and accept that you're going to learn things along the way.”
While Musk and his legions of former employees have helped turn hard tech and climate tech into an investible sector for venture capitalists, the amount of money the companies we’ve looked at have raised — about $30 billion — pales in comparison to the hottest sector, artificial intelligence. Even SpaceX, the signature hard tech company of its era, is itself running a massive “neo-cloud” business, renting out data center capacity to companies like Anthropic and Google to the tune of around $2 billion a month.
That being said, Tesla and SpaceX, which together are worth around $3 trillion, will continue to produce engineers and managers with sizable net worths and resumes uniquely looked favorably on by investors.
More than 4,000 current and former SpaceX employees are expected to become instant millionaires after the IPO, with 400 potentially getting at least $100 million, generating a wave of wealth that can give potential founders the cushion necessary to found their own company — or the capital necessary to become investors themselves.
“I think this is the emergence of a hardware mafia,” Schroepfer told us. “The PayPal mafia helped define an era of software and internet companies. This group will probably define an era where the center of gravity moves back toward atoms: energy, industry, mobility, infrastructure, manufacturing, and the physical systems that modern life depends on.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to correct the description of Arbor Energy.
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The “35x35” electrification pledge and an AI pledge are on the table.
World leaders are flocking to the Mediterranean resort town of Antalya, Turkey, this weekend for the 31st United Nations Climate Change Conference, also known as COP31. The U.S., of course, will once again not attend, as President Trump not only withdrew the country from the Paris Agreement but also from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the umbrella group that organizes the annual conferences. Still, 194 other governments will be there, putting their heads together on how to move another few inches toward a safer future.
This year, as with the last several convenings, the meeting arrives against a backdrop of geopolitical instability, worsening climate impacts, and growing concern about energy security and affordability. While conflicts like the Iran war in some ways bolster the case for the energy transition by surfacing the risks of fossil fuel dependence, prioritizing energy security can manifest as countries turning inward and showing less willingness to work for the global good.
Perhaps the biggest item on this year’s agenda is the “35x35” pledge, Turkey’s proposal to electrify 35% of the world’s final energy use by 2035, up from about 23% today. That would mean switching from gas-powered cars to electric vehicles and from burning fuels for heat to electric heat pumps. It would not necessarily mean generating all of the electricity to power those devices from clean sources, although countries have committed to triple renewable energy capacity during previous COPs. Turkey itself does not have a plan to phase out fossil fuels, and its use of coal and natural gas-fired power plants has been growing alongside renewables.
It’s not yet clear whether Turkey will encourage countries to sign onto the pledge outside of the main negotiations or try to get it into the final decision text of the conference. In a twist, the conference has two countries sharing the presidency this year, with Turkey playing host and overseeing the “action agenda” — the announcements, commitments, and dealmaking that happen outside the official negotiations — and its co-chair, Australia, mediating the formal talks.
In addition to the electrification goal, Turkey is also inviting countries to sign an artificial intelligence pledge declaring a “shared ambition to make AI part of the climate solution — sustainably powered, efficiently designed, transparently measured and available to all.” The pledge has no teeth, however, as it explicitly states that it creates “no new obligations” and notes that it should be implemented according to national priorities and circumstances.
Although there will be no big agreement like there was in Paris in 2015, the two weeks of talks will end, per usual, with a consensus document that summarizes the outcomes of the negotiations. The final text from last year’s conference in Belém, Brazil, set a new goal to triple finance for climate adaptation by 2035. Countries also agreed to create a “Just Transition Mechanism,” a program to help fossil fuel-based economies navigate the socioeconomic consequences of shifting to clean energy. But the final text at COP30 did not ultimately mention the creation of a roadmap to transition away from fossil fuels, despite more than 80 countries supporting the idea, and didn’t, in fact, mention “fossil fuels” at all.
Much of the work this year will be about building on those outcomes. The climate adaptation finance goal, for example, is still fuzzy, as the parties did not agree on a baseline year from which to triple the funding, or define what types of finance count toward the goal, meaning it’s unclear what the actual target amount for 2035 is. The Just Transition Mechanism is similarly skeletal — negotiators will need to hammer out how to operationalize it into something useful. Countries are also supposed to make progress on the Global Goal on Adaptation, an as-yet ill-defined goal first established in the Paris Agreement that negotiators are still working out how to implement.
Then there’s the overarching theme of finance. As I’ve written in the past, every annual climate conference is ultimately a fight over money — specifically how much developed countries are sending to developing countries to help them fight climate change and respond to its effects.
To date, countries have agreed to mobilize $1.3 trillion annually in climate finance from all sources for developing countries by 2035, with $300 specifically coming from developed countries. Climate finance reached record levels in 2024, the most recent year with comprehensive data, with total global flows hitting $2 trillion and funding from developed to developing countries reaching $136.7 billion.
But progress is uneven. Only 2% of global investment in renewable energy over the past two decades went to Africa, said Brian Mukhaya, a senior manager on the Clean Air Task Force’s Africa team, during a recent media briefing. Finance challenges may also collide with the conference’s electrification goal. More than 550 million people in sub-Saharan Africa lack access to electricity, Mukhaya said, and the continent will need seven to eight times current investment levels to achieve universal electricity access by 2030. Also, while the rising cost of capital is becoming an impediment to building clean energy projects everywhere in the world, the problem is acute in Africa, where the average cost of capital for power-sector investments is three to five times higher than in Europe and North America.
At COP31, negotiators will try to make progress on questions such as what form climate finance should take (grants, concessional loans, private finance, etc), how it can be more effectively distributed, and what it should be used for.
Another question hanging over this year’s conference is whether the final text will acknowledge the likelihood of surpassing 1.5 degrees Celsius of warming above pre-industrial levels, the more ambitious target laid out in the Paris Agreement. Last year’s decision text contained a tacit admission, with countries resolving to limit “the magnitude and duration of any temperature overshoot.” Doing so requires a more serious discussion of carbon removal strategies than delegates have engaged in to date.
With the world seemingly careening past the 1.5 degrees target, the annual climate talks have lost some of their luster. Critics increasingly call for a new approach. Ani Dasgupta, the president and CEO of the World Resources Institute, for example, wants the COPs to center more on accountability and holding countries to their commitments. He also recommends developing a new decision-making process that does not allow a handful of countries to block decisions. Since the substance of the negotiations is becoming more and more about how to finance the transition, he argues the conference should also broaden its tent to bring in finance ministers and central banks.
“Where we are today is different from 1992 when COPs were set up,” he said during a recent press call. “The world is different. The broader needs are different. We are at a different place in the transition. And we actually haven't reformed the system.”
Progressive candidate Jane Kim declared victory in the race for California Insurance Commissioner.
Few political wonks outside of California were likely paying much attention to the Golden State on Tuesday night, as Democrats’ anticipated blue wave crested. But the state did have one close, consequential race on the ballot: insurance commissioner. On Friday, Bernie Sanders-endorsed progressive Jane Kim won the race to lead the California Department of Insurance, which oversees the state’s $452 billion insurance market.
Kim declared victory over the more moderate State Senator Ben Allen, who was backed by the California Democratic Party, after reaching a nearly six-point lead on Friday. In a brief speech before supporters, Kim said Allen called to congratulate her that morning. (A spokesman for the Allen campaign confirmed the call to The Orange County Register.) Kim ran on a proposal for a state-run, single-payer insurance program that would cover homeowners against wildfire damage — though the plan would ultimately need approval from both the California legislature and Governor-elect Xavier Becerra.
The idea is that homeowners would automatically receive public coverage for wildfire-related losses, with payouts capped at roughly what it costs to rebuild a typical California home. Policyholders would keep their regular private insurance for other risks such as theft, burst pipes, or an ordinary kitchen fire. Kim says Californians wouldn’t pay more overall, since the money for the program would come from the share of premiums that already goes toward wildfire coverage, though each household’s bill would partly depend on its own wildfire risk.
“It would be nonprofit, and so any excess capital would stay in the state of California and would be used to drive down risk,” Kim told my colleague Matthew Zeitlin a few weeks ago. “That’s the most important piece about this actually, is that it would create another revenue stream for mitigation.”
The insurance commissioner job has taken on an increasing sense of urgency as wildfires — intensified by climate change — continue ripping through communities in California. Mounting losses from hotter, drier conditions combined with decades of new construction in the wildland-urban interface have squeezed insurers’ profits, leading many to drop policyholders in high-risk areas or simply stop writing new policies in the state altogether.
California’s homeowners insurance premiums climbed 84% between December 2020 and March of this year, according to Stanford researchers. Meanwhile, a growing number of residents have been pushed onto the state’s FAIR Plan, which my colleague Matthew described as “the barebones insurer of last resort.” The share of California’s single-family homes covered by the plan has nearly tripled over that same period, from under 2% to about 5%, as homeowners in even low- and moderate-risk wildfire areas increasingly find themselves with few alternatives.
The insurance crunch has become yet another front in California’s broader affordability crisis, alongside persistently high housing, electricity, and gasoline costs. Kim’s victory suggests frustrated voters are increasingly willing to support more radical solutions that once seemed politically out of reach. And while Kim doesn’t have a background in the insurance industry, she’s no stranger to public office. The former civil rights attorney served on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors from 2011 to 2019 before becoming a regional director for Sanders’ 2020 presidential campaign.
But throughout her run for the Insurance office, critics have continually questioned how, exactly, her plan would work. No state has attempted a public disaster insurance program like this before; critics argue there’s no relevant model to work off of, no white paper laying out the details, and no price tag attached to the idea. Kim herself acknowledges that there’s plenty of uncertainty surrounding the plan. “This is a concept and a proposal, and could look quite different by the time it works its way through the process,” she told Matthew. In other words, the program that eventually emerges from negotiations with lawmakers — if one does — could end up looking considerably different from what Kim campaigned on.
Her opponent, Allen, who chairs the state senate’s Energy, Utilities and Communications Committee, argued that creating a public wildfire insurance program would impose a significant financial burden on the state. The California Earthquake Authority, an agency that sells earthquake insurance and administers the state’s Wildfire Fund, examined the potential costs of such a program this spring, estimating it would require roughly $25 billion upfront to have a 75% chance of staying solvent for 20 years. But Kim points out in her policy brief that buying reinsurance — essentially insurance for the insurer — could cut that to about $6 billion.
Allen, on the other hand, pitched a series of reforms to the existing market, including speeding up rate reviews, rewarding homeowners and communities for wildfire mitigation, expanding financing for home-hardening projects, and discouraging development in high-risk areas.
Voters opted instead for the insurance revolution. But Kim argues that her plan isn’t totally without precedent. On the campaign trail, she frequently pointed to New Zealand, where the government’s Natural Hazards Commission provides homeowners with public coverage for disasters including earthquakes, landslides, volcanic eruptions, and tsunamis — though notably not ordinary wildfires. And while France and Spain also operate state-backed disaster insurance programs, these don’t cover wildfires either, a far more common occurrence in California than the comparably rare disasters these programs were built around abroad.
Ultimately, Kim’s ambitious plan will require a champion in the legislature to go anywhere. But in the meantime, there are other issues she could get to work on. On the campaign trail, she said she wants to push insurers to fund a disaster mitigation program run by the Department of Insurance, require companies selling auto policies in a region to also offer homeowners coverage there, and impose minimum loss ratios compelling home insurers to pay at least 65% of premiums in claims and auto insurers at least 70%. It’s unclear, however, whether Kim can implement either of the latter two proposals without new legislation.
Kim will also immediately face the question of what to do with outgoing Insurance Commissioner Ricardo Lara’s Sustainable Insurance Strategy reform package. Designed to entice insurers back to California, these new rules allow companies to set premiums using forward-looking risk models rather than relying on historical losses, and to pass a portion of their rising reinsurance costs onto policyholders. In exchange, insurers are required to write more policies in wildfire-prone areas.
Kim has criticized this approach, arguing that insurers have exploited loopholes to raise premiums on lower-risk customers while continuing to underserve high-risk communities, all without doing enough to address the underlying factors driving wildfire risk.
That leaves Kim in a tricky situation. Until she is able to secure legislative backing for some version of her proposed public insurance program, she’ll have to decide whether to scrap or simply build on the existing reforms. She hasn’t yet laid out any plan for doing so. But whatever direction she takes could ultimately reshape California’s insurance market well before a new state insurer gets off the ground.
They only ticked up by 5% this week.
Beyond the repudiation of Donald Trump, if there was one message voters sent on election night, it was that they really don’t like data centers.
Democrats who ran against rampant data center development won at both the gubernatorial level (Amy Acton in Ohio, Gina Hinojosa in Texas) and the senatorial level (Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan, Annie Andrews in South Carolina). The Wall Street Journal counted 125 Democrats nationwide who “targeted their opponents over data centers.”
“Data centers are the midterms’ other big loser,” according to Politico. “The Results Are In: Voters Hate Data Centers,” from Wired.
Commentators didn’t just notice that many anti-data-center candidates won, but that a number of local data center moratoria passed as well. “In nearly every case, it’'s about 67-80% opposing data centers. True in California, Ohio, everywhere,” Brad Carson, head of the artificial intelligence policy group Americans for Responsible Innovation tweeted. Added Democratic strategist David Shor on X, “Voters sided against data centers in 40 of 41 ballot measures, with basically no correlation to how red a county was.”
But as far as new legislation and ordinances go, November 3 was just another Tuesday in the long-running local campaign against data center development, Heatmap Pro data shows.
“Forty is a lot in one day,” Owen Curtin, a data analyst with our intelligence platform Heatmap Pro, admitted, but “in terms of the rate at which county governments are enacting legislation and the overwhelming public support for them, it’s not new.”
There have been over 830 restrictive measures passed this year, according to analysis from Heatmap Pro, which breaks down to just over 80 per month. The numbers picked up substantially in the summer and fall.

June 15 to 21 was the busiest week of the year for passing data center laws, at 35, and June the month with the most laws passed overall, with 133. Another95 restrictive laws were passed in July, followed by 86 in October.
Of the 40 ballot measures passed this week, only one applied at the county level (Morgan County, Illinois), where a great deal of data center permitting occurs. “While many municipalities permit data centers, a significant portion are permitted by county governments. Not all counties have the legal authority to pursue ballot measures, which is why most November 2 measures were at the municipal level,” Curtin explained.
“While the overwhelming support for local data center ballot measures is indicative of public sentiment (largely anti-data center), it doesn’t necessarily correlate with the regulatory landscape,” he went on. And here’s a fun fact: “There are over 19,000 municipalities in the U.S., so 40 bans are only 0.2% of all municipalities,” Curtain added. “If 40 municipalities banned data centers every day, it would take 475 days to ban data centers across the entire U.S.”