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For more than four years, California has had a law on the books meant to protect homes and buildings during an urban firestorm like the Palisade and Eaton fires. But it’s never gone into effect.
In theory, the policy was simple. It directed state officials to develop new rules for buildings in areas with high fire risk, which would govern what people were allowed to put within the five-foot perimeter immediately surrounding their homes. A large body of evidence shows that clearing this area, known in the fire mitigation world as “zone zero,” of combustible materials can be the difference between a building that alights during a wildfire and one that can weather the blaze.
The new rules — essentially just a list of items allowed in that five-foot zone — were due two years ago, by January 1, 2023. But the State Board of Forestry and Fire Protection has yet to begin a formal rulemaking process. Ask anyone who’s been following this thread what’s taking so long, and they’ll almost certainly point to one thing: politics.
“There’s a ton of science about what to do, but the science has run into challenges with social acceptance, and therefore political acceptance,” Michael Wara, director of Stanford University’s Climate and Energy Policy Program, told me. People do not want to be told how they can or can’t landscape or furnish or otherwise adorn the outside of their homes. Inevitably, when the rules do come out, you’ll hear about Gavin Newsom coming to take away people’s decks and policing gardens.
No one thinks that zone zero rules, if enacted and adhered to, could have prevented fires in the Pacific Palisades or Altadena or saved every structure in the recent fires’ path. But alongside other fire mitigation strategies, zone zero design can significantly lower the chances of a given building burning, and therefore the chances that a fire will spread to neighboring buildings, and ultimately reduce the risk of fires becoming compounding, devastating disasters. Wara likened it to car safety rules like seatbelts and airbags — people still die in car accidents, but far fewer than would otherwise.
The question now is whether the record-breaking destruction in Los Angeles will be enough to convince people that zone zero rules are effective and worthwhile. Past experience shows the answer is not an obvious yes.
Why homes burn
There are three ways buildings ignite during a wildfire, Yana Valachovic, a forest scientist with the University of California Agriculture and Natural Resources Fire Network who specializes in community resilience and the built environment, told me. They are either exposed to burning embers, direct flames, or radiant heat, though most often a combination.
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Embers — hot, hard debris of burned material from a fire — can be carried miles away from their origin by the wind and create new spot fires next to homes. “What happens with those embers is they get thrown at the building, they hit the walls, the siding, and then drop to the base and collect at the base,” Valachovic said, “so you can have not just one, but thousands of embers at the base of our structures.”
Embers can also penetrate buildings through open windows and ventilation systems. If radiant heat from nearby burning structures causes windows to shatter or fall out, that can also create new vectors for embers to enter the home. “Embers find their way,” Valachovic said.
Fire mitigation experts promote two strategies for reducing vulnerability, and they go hand in hand. The first is
home hardening, which could mean building with fire-resistant materials but also includes smaller but effective actions like covering air vents with fine mesh screens and sealing gaps to try to block embers. The second is creating so-called “defensible space,” or a buffer around the building, where any vegetation is carefully selected and managed to slow the spread of fire to and from the building. California divides defensible space into three different zones: Zone one extends from 5 feet away from the structure to 30 feet, and zone two goes out to 100 feet away. Then, of course, there’s zone zero.
The state has had regulations on the books to require at least 30 feet of defensible space in high-risk areas since 1965, and it updated the standards to establish a two-zone system in 2006. In both cases, the rules were “really framed around, how do you interrupt flames running at the building?” said Valachovic. The regulations included thinning trees and removing lower branches, clearing some trees that were closer to homes, clearing dead wood and litter, and pruning branches that hang over buildings. But they still allowed for vegetation right up against the house.
Since then, wildfire post-mortems have found that this scenario of flames burning a path to a building is not a primary driver of structure loss. “It was missing the point,” Valachovic told me of the previous rule structure. “What we’ve seen now for the last decade is that embers are really driving our home loss issue, and so we’re basically allowing all this vegetation and combustible material to be present in the zone that is really very vulnerable.”
In August 2020, after Governor Gavin Newsom declared a state of emergency in California due to an explosion of wildfires, the state legislature passed AB 3074, which finally sought to bridge the gap by creating a new, “ember-resistant zone” — zone zero. Had the rules been implemented under the timeline mandated by the law, new homes would have had to comply beginning in 2023, and existing homes would have had to comply beginning in 2024. Like the earlier defensible space rules, they would have applied to homes located in parts of the state designated as Fire Hazard Severity Zones. These are generally areas that you might think of as the “wildland-urban interface,” where homes abut wildland vegetation like forests or scrublands, but others extend into more urban areas. Almost all of the burned area in the Pacific Palisades, for instance, would have been
subject to the rules, while only a small portion of the homes in Altadena are in the zone.
Why “zone zero” is political
When I reached out to the California Natural Resources Agency, the umbrella group for both the Board of Forestry and Fire Protection and CalFire, to ask if there was an updated timeline for the regulations, one of the first things that Tony Andersen, the Deputy Secretary for Communications, told me, was not about the timeline but about the ultimate cost of compliance.
“We recognize there are costs associated with doing this work around homes and structures,” Andersen told me via email, “and we are focused on identifying options for financial assistance as well as education and outreach to help owners prepare and prioritize mitigations.” He then noted that the rulemaking was a “complex process” that the agency wanted to get right, and said it aimed to present a draft proposal to the Board “as soon as is feasible, most likely in the coming months.”
Andersen’s response illustrates one of several tensions that have made it difficult to write the zone zero rules — and will ultimately make them difficult to implement. If the rules say you can’t have a wooden deck, for example, or you can’t have a fence that touches the building, homeowners could face costly retrofits. And despite witnessing the horror of destructive wildfires, many homeowners don’t want to switch their wooden fence for a metal one, or replace their bushes with gravel.
Five feet might sound like a negligible amount of space, but people are attached to the aesthetics of this zone. Homeowners have become used to “softening” the line where the walls meet the ground by filling it in with vegetation, Valachovic told me. “We really developed this idea that we don’t visually want to see our foundations,” she said. “From a fire defense perspective, this idea that we have combustible material basically ringing our houses and our structures, that is problematic.”
Several people I interviewed for this story asked if I had seen a documentary about the aftermath of the 2018 Camp Fire in Paradise, California called
Bring Your Own Brigade. The film captures a series of city council meetings in 2019, when officials were considering updating local building standards. They weigh a number of ideas that would reduce the risk of embers collecting on top of, inside, or next to homes, including eliminating gutters and requiring roof overhangs and a five-foot setback for any combustible material.
At the time, the Camp Fire was the deadliest and most destructive wildfire in state history, killing 85 people, displacing more than 50,000, and destroying more than 18,000 structures. But during a public hearing, community members lashed out at the potential cost, warned that new standards would prevent displaced residents from moving back, and decried the aesthetic implications.
“Paradise is an individualistic town,” one person says. “That’s part of the charm and the quirkiness. We don’t need consistency and uniformity.”
In another scene, a city councilmember asks Paradise Fire Chief John Messina to narrow down the list to just one rule that would make the community more fire resistant. “That five-foot barrier around your house is extremely important,” he replies. “That would be the No. 1 thing out of all of this that I would say would defend your home the best and have the most impact.” Shortly after, the council votes down the measure.
Michael Wara, who recalled the scene to me over the phone, said a similar thing happened when the fire chief in his community in Mill Valley tried to get the city council to adopt zone zero rules. “The word got out in the community that this crazy fire chief was going to make us rip up our front yards,” he said. When the council convened for a vote, more than a thousand people showed up to oppose it. The council ended up passing it as a voluntary measure.
To Wara, part of the problem is the language used to communicate these ideas with the public. “Zone zero” and “hardening” conjure a bunker mentality, he said. “I do not want my family to live in a bunker that is hardened to attack. I want my family to live in a home that is welcoming.”
He also thinks the state can reach a compromise, like allowing succulents and other fire-resistant greenery in zone zero. The rules don’t have to turn these areas into gravel and concrete wastelands to be effective.
Courtesy of the Los Angeles County Fire Department
The Los Angeles County Fire Department recently included photos in a
notice to homeowners about defensible space rules and the upcoming zone zero regulations that illustrate how landscapes might strike that balance. The images feature stone walkways immediately next to homes, followed by raised beds made of metal and concrete containing attractive landscaping. Not quite “quirky” and “charming,” but far from a barren dystopia.
Where insurance fits in
Despite the delay in implementing zone zero, California has tried to pitch it as part of a strategy to solve the state’s
insurance crisis. In 2022, Insurance Commissioner Ricardo Lara enacted new rules requiring insurance companies to provide discounts to homeowners who do home hardening retrofits and create defensible space.
“That’s terrific,” Dave Jones, the director of the Climate Risk Initiative at the University of California, Berkeley, and Lara’s predecessor as insurance commissioner, told me. “But you don’t get the discount if they won’t write you the insurance.”
Jones said the bigger issue is that the models insurance companies use to decide whether or not to write a policy do not account for fire mitigation efforts. A homeowner could take every action on the list for home hardening, create a zone zero, live in a community that’s investing in aggressive fuels reduction, and so on, and insurance companies could still deny them coverage. Last year, Jones wrote a bill that would have required companies to change the models they use to determine coverage to account for mitigation. Several insurance industry trade groups opposed the bill,
arguing that it was “premature and impossible to implement given the real-world data constraints,” and that it was “inconsistent” with the state’s efforts to “restore a healthy and competitive insurance market.” It didn’t pass.
If following zone zero guidelines meant having a shot at getting insurance, maybe people would be more open to doing it, Jones argued to me. But as things stand, that’s not the case. “I don’t think the failure is so much in the state developing the standards as it is in the lack of political courage to stand up to the insurance industry and say, hey, look, enough is enough. We’re going to pass a law to require your models to account for this.”
This past year, the California legislature passed a law giving existing homes three years, instead of just one, to comply with zone zero rules once they are finalized, whenever that is. And if the regulations are finalized this year, it’s possible that some of the rebuilt structures in the Pacific Palisades and Altadena will have to meet them.
Ultimately, Valachovic sees hope in fire mitigation work. The narrative that climate change is driving these destructive wildfires can make people feel helpless. But there are so many low-cost, simple things people can do to reduce their exposure. “I just feel like we have a moral imperative to share practical, reasonable actions that people can take to make a difference, and to know that with that, the odds improve substantially.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to clarify the role of the California Natural Resources Agency in the rulemaking process.
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We got a look at another major tech company’s latest energy and carbon emissions data — and it’s a doozy. On Wednesday, Microsoft released its annual sustainability report, giving us another year’s worth of energy and emissions data for a company that Heatmap’s annual insiders poll once judged to be one of the best hyperscalers for climate change.
The headline: Microsoft’s climate pollution surged last year. Its carbon emissions increased 25% year-over-year, the biggest single-year rise since at least the pandemic. The company emitted the equivalent of 21 million tons of carbon dioxide in 2025, under standard measurement methods. (It emitted slightly less under its own bespoke measurement system, which counts fuel credits and customer energy use differently.)
Electricity, which the company is buying in larger amounts than ever before to power AI data centers, is driving a good share of that increase. In 2024, carbon pollution produced by generating electricity (as well as from making chilled water and steam) was responsible for 2% of Microsoft’s total corporate carbon footprint. In 2025, that same category made up 13% of its overall emissions. The company’s power use rose by more than 24% over the same period.
That means Microsoft’s power use isn’t rising as fast as other companies’. Google’s most recent sustainability report said itsown electricity consumption leapt 37% during the same period.
The report suggests, too, that Microsoft is increasingly wary of local fights over data center development — and how water has come to play an outsize role in those battles. The company reports that 2025 was the first year ever that it “replenished” more water on global scales than it withdrew. But “the next phase of our work is increasingly local,” write Brad Smith, the company’s vice chair and president, and Melanie Nakagawa, its chief sustainability officer. That line is clearly in reference to water, specifically — Smith and Nakagawa add that the company hopes to “restore more water to the watersheds where we operate than we withdraw” — but it could also cover the widespread local opposition to data centers that has exploded over the same period.
There’s one more thing to flag about this report: Although it just came out, it covers Microsoft’s 2025 fiscal year, which began in July 2024 and ended more than a year ago. That means it’s inherently an out-of-date view — it shows us what Redmond was doing as the AI and data center boom got underway, but not what it’s doing now. We’ve known for some time that the company is struggling to meet booming AI power demand while maintaining its power commitments; it paused carbon removal buying in April and revised its own clean energy commitments in May.
I should add that Microsoft would prefer that we look at other numbers in the report. First, under its in-house measurement scheme, the company says it released only 20 million tons of carbon pollution over the past year, a figure that appears in its top-line charts. Second, Microsoft estimates that it would have done even more harm to the climate — producing 34 million tons of climate emissions — if not for its corporate policies of buying zero-carbon electricity, using renewable fuels, and improving the energy efficiency and carbon footprint of its XBox game consoles and Surface tablets.
We asked Microsoft for a follow-up interview, but unfortunately they didn’t make anyone available. I’ll be back tomorrow to look at Microsoft’s report in context with other hyperscalers.
Speaking of a sudden rise in gaseous emissions, the Trump administration today named a new leader of the federal government’s marquee in-house climate research office, the U.S. Global Change Research Program. Per Politico, the new top dog is Matthew Wielicki, a UCLA PhD who (1) has a Substack, (2) refers to himself (in the third person) as a “beacon of rational thought” and “professor in exile” on said Substack, and (3) has suggested on X that climate change belongs in the “Department of Imaginary Problems.”
What can I say? Back during President Trump’s first term, his administration tried to bury the publication of the National Climate Assessment by dumping it on a holiday weekend. Now it seems to have taken another strategy. All I can say is, Dr. Wielicki, from one beacon of rational thought to another: I look forward to following your work.
Did a Meta data center introduce a rare, dangerous bacteria into the sewers system of Wyoming’s capitol city? It’s an environmental pollution mystery with an answer that could decide the future of American AI infrastructure development.
Our drama begins in Cheyenne, Wyoming, where the city’s board of public utilities just wrapped up a lengthy investigation into the presence of Cupriavidus gilardii, a potentially lethal bacteria resistant to heavy metals, in the city’s wastewater treatment systems. Apparently, in February, board staff detected the contamination and shut off public access to the city’s water reuse system, a supply of treated non-potable water fed with treated wastewater and used for lawns, athletic fields, and other green spaces. Officials were worried that spraying this water could release into the environment a bacteria found to cause fatal health outcomes in immunocompromised or elderly people who are infected by it.
The board then identified a culprit – Goat Systems LLC, a Delaware-registered firm without a website Meta tasked with overseeing its large $800 million hyperscale project in Cheyenne dubbed Project Cosmo. Goat Systems lost its wastewater disposal permit. The board plans to also fine Goat Systems for violating city code “along with additional fees for our remediation efforts,” board public affairs coordinator Erin Lamb told me in an email. (The only person publicly affiliated with Goat Systems is Pamela Gregorski, an employee for a company that specializes in creating LLCs. Gregorski, who is linked to other LLCs handling Meta projects across the country, did not reply to requests for comment.)
In public comments and statements to me, the board linked the bacteria to water used to flush the Meta data center’s closed-loop cooling system so debris could be removed before the facility was operational. “We were able to connect the Meta data center campus to this through sampling their site,” Lamb said.
This finding led Cheyenne to also indefinitely ban data center projects in the city from ever disposing of “fill-and-flush water” in the sewer system again.
Meta has not denied contamination was found by the city, but says repeated sampling at its project site failed to come up with any evidence confirming they were the source. One can imagine a scenario where the data center and its design played no role in this bacteria showing up, or that city officials erroneously tagged the tech company with responsibility at a time when they’re dealing with political troubles already.
But what is happening in Cheyenne, first reported last week by Wyoming local press, will have consequences for the future of AI infrastructure whether or not Meta was actually even responsible. Right now, all over the country, tech companies are failing to get permits for their data centers because people are worried about water use. These closed-loop data center designs are supposed to address those concerns, letting large hyperscalers contain, cycle, and reuse the water they use for months or even years. A story like this gaining traction in public discourse around data centers will inevitably damage the sector’s public image unless rectified – and fast.
Cheyenne’s claims about the Meta data center being responsible for the bacteria have already metastasized on social media, disseminated through channels often cited by data center opponents on the ground elsewhere in the country. “REPORT: ‘RARE’ BACTERIA DISCHARGED INTO WYOMING WATERSHED LINKED TO DATA CENTER,” reads one post by a Facebook user Izzy Bella that has been shared more than 2,600 times. “Think of this the next time you hear blatant greenwashed lies like ‘closed loop cooling.” This post has been shared by major anti-data center groups on Facebook, including Pennsylvania Data Center Resistance, a social media page for organizing against projects in the Keystone State.
Going solely off what happened in Wyoming, some in the state are concerned the process of cleaning these loops before opening a data center can produce some nasty byproducts. Dr. Jonathan Brand, a civil engineering professor at University of Wyoming, has been studying the data center buildout in Wyoming for years, watching what’s happened in Cheyenne closely, and like me has way more questions than answers.
Usually, Brand said, a company using water in metal-intensive industrial applications – think a metal plating facility – has to test that fluid before it’s dumped into a municipal sewer system. The chain of events spelled out by the board left him “guessing that didn’t happen here,” and he’s worried the bacteria formed within whatever petri dish-like environment was created inside the network of looping pipes before it was flushed.
“The bacterium was the canary they saw, but you could have a lot of residual metals, which is not something we normally test for at a wastewater plant,” he said. “What else was in that discharge? Nobody else has let us know that and they’re probably not going to.”
City officials claim the water was tested before it entered the sewer and was missed, but there’s a trust deficit between locals and the government on what happened. Little of this information was public until a few weeks ago. Cheyenne residents first learned trouble was afoot on June 26, when the board posted a press release “reminding all residential, commercial, and industrial customers that the discharge of hazardous substances into the sanitary sewer system is strictly prohibited.” Nothing was included about data centers at all; all the board said was that the bacteria was dumped by “an industrial user within the system.”
Then Exie Brown, a Cheyenne resident and GOP candidate for state house, blasted a press release out on social media declaring “a credible source with knowledge of the [board] investigation and sampling” told him the “industrial user” was a data center.
I reached out to Brown asking how he learned about this. His answers were cryptic. “I was given a piece of paper with that name of a bacteria on it,” he told me over the phone, declining to name the “very credible source” who told him about the contamination. “That it was released into our waste water system, that it came from a data center, that it was Meta, that they found out in February, and I needed to check into this.” When I asked why the piece of paper, he replied: “Because they [the source] wanted to keep this quiet. Off the phones and stuff.”
City officials deny any malintentions behind the delay and claim they’re learning about all of this at the same pace as the average resident. “We learned here a week or so ago,” Cheyenne mayor Patrick Collins told me in an interview. He added this wouldn’t have stirred as much interest “had it been something else,” referencing the fact it was from a data center.
“As I understand it, the contractor that was building the site was flushing out a closed-loop cooling system, and when they tested the water everything seemed to be fine, but when it was released into our system, bacteria had grown and was released into our wastewater treatment,” Collins said. “It just happened to be a data center. It’s an unfortunate and highly regrettable situation.”
The mayor acknowledged this contamination will make it “a little tougher” to argue for more data centers in the city. There are currently 10 operational data centers in Cheyenne and surrounding Laramie County, according to estimates from pro-business group Cheyenne LEADS, which has said five projects are under construction – including the Meta facility – and at least nine others are “in various stages of planning or due diligence.”
On Monday, the Cheyenne city council will vote on whether to annex land owned by various nearby property owners for more data center deals, including parcels owned by the family of U.S. Senator Cynthia Lummis. Before this event, Cheyenne was incredibly resistant to the anti-data center backlash, handily rejecting proposals to pause development.
Collins thinks Cheyenne will still be open to the tech sector. But the bacteria changed things. “I recognize there’s going to be challenges as we move forward. It’s something we’re going to have to look into. This was a regrettable situation that happened.”
We will see more transparency soon from the Cheyenne city government about the contamination. The board tells me it’s planning a press conference next week where Lamb told me “more information will be made available.”
Francis Brennan, a public affairs manager in the company’s strategic response division, provided me with a statement from an unnamed “Meta spokesperson” claiming that Fortis – the construction company hired by Meta and Goat Systems LLC – was directly handling water disposal on site. After the board “shared that it found a substance in the city’s wastewater” the construction company “began hauling it offsite.” Meta claimed Fortis has not been able to corroborate the presence of this bacteria in comparable water samples.
“Meta is committed to being a good neighbor in Cheyenne, including through the protection of local water resources, and will continue encouraging collaboration between Fortis and the board until this situation is revoked,” the statement read. Meta declined to answer follow-up questions..
Fortis confirmed they were responsible for dumping water on site when the contamination was discovered. They stated they’ve been unable to confirm the presence of the bacteria. In a statement provided to me, the company said: “Immediately upon learning of the issue, we stopped discharging water into the city’s wastewater system. We have since engaged in a thorough investigation that has included ongoing repeat testing by independent environmental specialists and have found no trace of the substance.”
This week’s conversation is with Ross Marchard, executive director for the Taxpayers Protection Alliance, a center-right advocacy group that focuses on what it sees are onerous policies potentially hindering responsible collection and use of tax dollars. TPA’s position on AI clearly skews pro-free market, as they’ve recently defended Anthropic from Trump administration attacks. TPA also recently took on the mantle of defending data centers from noise complaints, publishing a paper on Tuesday “debunking myths about data centers being excessively noisy.” The paper references various analyses of data centers by state legislators and local regulators to argue that claims the sector is generally noisy are false.
I asked TPA’s executive director to chat with me about why and how the organization will try to quell these fears. The conversation was really interesting so I decided to share it with you in full, sans light editing for clarity and consistency.
What prompted you to write this report?
Obviously, data center projects have been getting so much media attention. With that attention there’s an outsized share of misinformation in coverage of these data center projects, and politicians have irresponsibly spread this misinformation to try and enact moratoria and heavy-handed restrictions on these projects
TPA wanted to get the truth out. Make sure local residents living alongside these data centers have access to all the information they need. Make sure this misinformation is countered.
Before we get into the noise aspect, how is this focusing on “taxpayer protection”?
Sure, well, great case in point is Loudon County. They’ve embraced data centers and look what’s happened, they take in a billion dollars a year in revenue from these data centers and it’s allowed them to lower property taxes. You see a wider pattern across communities. They rake in a tremendous amount of tax revenue and increasingly common well-paying jobs, six-figure blue collar jobs that are a direct result of allowing data centers into communities.
I know you’re based in D.C., near Loudon County. I went to a data center in Sterling, Virginia, in that county, and it was especially noisy. Sort of a worst case scenario on that. Your report talks about misinformation around noise and data center – where is the misinformation happening on this issue?
We saw a recent court case out of New Jersey that alleges data centers generally are as loud as helicopters. Look, anything is possible for a particular project. But what we can say based on our analysis of the data, studies and sound impact assessments, and analyses by state and local governments is that this isn’t the case for the vast majority of data centers.
No use of land is going to be sound-free. I live right on Georgia Avenue in Washington, D.C., so I know noise. But everything we analyzed showed data centers and energy generation on site are going to make some noise but not enough to be harmful to human health. Often it’s no louder than the typical conversation between two people.
Speaking of Loudon County, though, I can point to an example of a project I myself visited that was I’m sure welcomed at first on tax revenue grounds. Now people seem to regret that decision.
As someone trying to address those who are concerned, is it helpful for you to really just call this concern rooted in misinformation? Is this really going to be potent when projects like the one in Sterling exist?
First and foremost, it’s very important to listen to people and their concerns. If folks are living alongside a data center and say they’re hearing loud noises, that warrants investigation. But it’s also important to look at the full array of evidence and we’ve done that. So far, it does not appear to be the case based on the overwhelming amount of evidence that is publicly available that data centers use a lot of water, use inordinate amounts of electricity, or are loud in a way that disrupts human health.
What do you think the policy solutions are to address these noise concerns? How do you listen to people, without going into overgeneralization, as you put it?
People tend to point out the loudest data centers are the ones with on site energy generation. If you ask the operators of data centers and the companies building data centers, they’ll tell you more often than not the reason they’re putting generation on site because the utility permitting process takes far too long. That’s the result not necessarily of utility regulations but state regulations foisted upon utilities. So you have to look at everything from state regulation to grid operation regulation. If you make the process easier for data centers to get hooked up to the grid, you’ll see less on site energy generation, and a lot of the noise complaints will go away.
So from your standpoint, a solution to the noise complaint is that it should be easier to hook up to the grid?
Yes. If you allow data centers to get hooked up to the grid, you’ll see fewer diesel generators and that’ll mean fewer noise complaints.
Now, I want to be clear, the vast majority of data centers with noise complaints – those are usually because of on-site energy generation – are not unduly noisy. If you want to cut down on those complaints, what makes the most sense is to make it easier for data centers to hook up.
Fun question to close: what was the last song you listened to?
“Yellow” by Coldplay.
Are you listening to “Yellow” while you’re writing about data centers?
I listen to the song sometimes when I’m writing about data centers. It’s also a very good somber reflection song, which is a pretty common sentiment amongst millennials.
Courtesy of the Los Angeles County Fire Department
