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According to IPCC author Andy Reisinger, “net zero by 2050” misses some key points.

Tackling climate change is a complex puzzle. Hitting internationally agreed upon targets to limit warming requires the world to reduce multiple types of greenhouse gases from a multiplicity of sources on diverse timelines and across varying levels of responsibility and control by individual, corporate, and state actors. It’s no surprise the catchphrase “net zero by 2050” has taken off.
Various initiatives have sprung up to distill this complexity for businesses and governments who want to do (or say they are doing) what the “science says” is necessary. The nonprofit Science Based Targets initiative, for example, develops standard roadmaps for companies to follow to act “in line with climate science.” The groups also vets corporate plans and deems them to either be “science based” or not. Though entirely voluntary, SBTi’s approval has become a nearly mandatory mark of credibility. The group has validated the plans of more than 5,500 companies with more than $46 trillion in market capitalization — nearly half of the global economy.
But in a commentary published in the journal Nature last week, a group of Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change experts argue that SBTi and other supposedly “science based” target-setting efforts misconstrue the science and are laden with value judgments. By striving to create straightforward, universal rules, they flatten more nuanced considerations of which emissions must be reduced, by whom and by when.
“We are arguing that those companies and countries that are best resourced, have the highest capacity to act, and have the highest responsibility for historical emissions, probably need to go a lot further than the global average,” Andy Reisinger, the lead author of the piece, told me.
In response to the paper, SBTi told me it “welcomes debate,” and that “robust debate is essential to accelerate corporate ambition and climate action.” The group is currently in the process of reviewing its Net-Zero Standard and remains “committed to refining our approaches to ensure they are effective in helping corporates to drive the urgent emissions reductions needed to combat the climate crisis.”
The commentary comes as SBTi’s reputation is already on shaky ground. In April, its board appeared to go rogue and said that the group would loosen its standards for the use of carbon offsets. The announcement was met first with surprise and later with fierce protest from the nonprofit’s staff and technical council, who had not been consulted. Environmental groups accused SBTi of taking the “science” out of its targets. The board later walked back its statement, saying that no change had been made to the rules, yet.
But interestingly enough, the new Nature commentary argues that SBTi’s board was actually on the right track. I spoke to Reisinger about this, and some of the other ways he thinks science based targets “miss the mark.”
Reisinger, who’s from New Zealand, was the vice-chair of the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s mega-report on climate mitigation from 2022. I caught him just as he had arrived in Sofia, Bulgaria, for a plenary that will determine the timeline for the next big batch of UN science reports. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Was there something in particular that inspired you to write this? Or were you just noticing the same issues over and over again?
There were probably several things. One is a confusion that’s quite prevalent between net zero CO2 emissions and net zero greenhouse gas emissions. The IPCC makes clear that to limit warming at any level, you need to reach net zero CO2 emissions, because it’s a long lived greenhouse gas and the warming effect accumulates in the atmosphere over time. You need deep reductions of shorter lived greenhouse gases like methane, but they don’t necessarily have to reach zero. And yet, a lot of people claim that the IPCC tells us that we have to reach net zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2050, which is simply not the case.
Of course, you can claim that there’s nothing wrong, surely, with going to net zero greenhouse gas emissions because that’s more ambitious. But there’s two problems with that. One is, if you want to use science, you have to get the science correct. You can’t just make it up and still claim to be science-based. Secondly, it creates a very uneven playing field between those who mainly have CO2 emissions and those who have non-CO2 emissions as a significant part of their emissions portfolio — which often are much harder to reduce.
Can you give an example of what you mean by that?
You can rapidly decarbonize and actually approach close to zero emissions in your energy generation, if that’s your dominant source of emissions. There are viable solutions to generate energy with very low or no emissions — renewables, predominantly. Nuclear in some circumstances.
But to give you another example, in Australia, the Meat and Livestock Association, they set a net zero target, but they subsequently realized it’s much harder to achieve it because methane emissions from livestock are very, very difficult to reduce entirely. Of course you can say, we’ll no longer produce beef. But if you’re the Cattle Association, you’re not going to rapidly morph into producing a different type of meat product. And so in that case, achieving net zero is much more challenging. Of course, you can’t lean back and say, Oh, it’s too difficult for us, therefore we shouldn’t try.
I want to walk through the three main points to your argument for why science-based targets “miss the mark.” I think we’ve just covered the first. The second is that these initiatives put everyone on the same timeline and subject them to the same rules, which you say could actually slow emissions reductions in the near term. Can you explain that?
The Science Based Targets initiative in particular, but also other initiatives that provide benchmarks for companies, tend to want to limit the use of offsets, where a company finances emission reductions elsewhere and claims them to achieve their own targets. And there’s very good reasons for that, because there’s a lot of greenwashing going on. Some offsets have very low integrity.
At the same time, if you set a universal rule that all offsets are bad and unscientific, you’re making a major mistake. Offsets are a way of generating financial flows towards those with less intrinsic capacity to reduce their emissions. So by making companies focus only on their own reductions, you basically cut off financial flows that could stimulate emission reductions elsewhere or generate carbon dioxide removals. Then you’re creating a problem for later on in the future, when we desperately need more carbon dioxide removal and haven’t built up the infrastructure or the accountability systems that would allow that.
As you know, there’s a lot of controversy about this right now. There are many scientists who disagree with you and don’t want the Science Based Targets initiative to loosen its rules for using offsets. Why is there this split in the scientific community about this?
I think the issue arises when you think that net zero by 2050 is the unquestioned target. But if you challenge yourself to say, well net zero by 2050 might be entirely unambitious for you, you have to reduce your own emissions and invest in offsets to go far beyond net zero by 2050 — then you might get a different reaction to it.
I think everybody would agree that if offsets are being used instead of efforts to reduce emissions that are under a company’s direct control, and they can be reduced, then offsets are a really bad idea. And of course, low integrity offsets are always a bad idea. But the solution to the risk of low integrity cannot be to walk away from it entirely, because otherwise you’ve further reduced incentives to actually generate accountability mechanisms. So the challenge would be to drive emission reductions at the company level, and on top of that, create incentives to engage in offsets, to increase financial flows to carbon dioxide removal — both permanent and inherently non permanent — because we will need it.
My understanding is that groups like SBTi and some of these other carbon market integrity initiatives agree with what you’ve just said — even if they don’t support offsetting emissions, they do support buying carbon credits to go above and beyond emissions targets. They are already advocating for that, even if they’re not necessarily creating the incentives for it.
I mean, that’s certainly a move in the right direction. But it’s creating this artificial distinction between what the science tells you, the “science based target,” and then the voluntary effort beyond that. Whereas I think it has to become an obligation. So it’s not a distinction between, here’s what the science says, and here’s where your voluntary, generous, additional contribution to global efforts might go. It is a much more integrated package of actions.
I think we’re starting to get at the third point that your commentary makes, which is about how these so-called science-based targets are inequitable. How does that work?
There’s a rich literature on differentiating targets at the country level based on responsibility for warming, or a capacity-based approach that says, if you’re rich and we have a global problem, you have to use your wealth to help solve the global problem. Most countries don’t because the more developed you are, the more unpleasant the consequences are.
At the company level, SBTi, for example, tends to use the global or regional or sectoral average rate of reductions as the benchmark that an individual company has to follow. But not every company is average, and systems transitions follow far more complex dynamics. Some incumbents have to reduce emissions much more rapidly, or they go out of business in order to create space for innovators to come in, whose emissions might rise in the near term before they go down, but with new technologies that allow deeper reductions in the long term. Assuming a uniform rate of reduction levels out all those differences.
It’s far more challenging to translate equity into meaningful metrics at the company level. But our core argument is, just because it’s hard, that cannot mean let’s not do it. So how can we challenge companies to disclose their thinking, their justification about what is good enough?
The Science Based Targets initiative formed because previously, companies were coming up with their own interpretations of the science, and there was no easy way to assess whether these plans were legitimate. Can you really imagine a middle ground where there is still some sort of policing mechanism to say whether a given corporate target is good enough?
That’s what we try to sketch as a vision, but it certainly won’t be easy. I also want to emphasize that we’re not trying to attack SBTi in principle. It’s done a world of good. And we certainly don’t want to throw the baby out with the bathwater to just cancel the idea. It’s more to use it as a starting point. As we say in our paper, you can almost take an SBTi target as the definition of what is not sufficient if you’re a company located in the Global North or a multinational company with high access to resources — human, technology and financial.
It was a wild west before SBTi and we’re not saying let’s go back to the wild west. We’re saying the pendulum might have swung too far to a universal rule that applies to everybody, but therefore applies to nobody.
There’s one especially scathing line in this commentary. You write that these generic rules “result in a pseudo-club that inadequately challenges its self-selected members while setting prohibitive expectations for those with less than average capacity.” We’ve already talked about the second half of this statement, but what do you mean by pseudo-club?
You write a science based target as a badge of achievement, a badge of honor on your company profile, assuming that therefore you have done all that can be expected of you when it comes to climate change. Most of the companies that have adopted science based targets are located in the Global North, or operate on a multinational basis and have therefore quite similar capacity. If that’s what we’re achieving — and then there’s a large number of companies that can’t possibly, under their current capacity, set science-based targets because they simply don’t have the resources — then collectively, we will fail. Science cannot tell you whether you have done as much as you could be doing. If we let the simplistic rules dominate the conversation, then we’re not going to be as ambitious as we need to be.
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Facing down a sea change, the automaker has staked its next EV bet on a compact, sporty pickup.
“Full fathom five, your father lies,” the invisible spirit Ariel sings early in The Tempest, as a handsome and grieving prince listens, rapt. The song tells of a shipwrecked skeleton transforming into something else — its eyes have become pearls, and its bones pink coral — as it undergoes, yes, a “sea change.” It is the first time that phrase appears in the English language.
Ford is now facing its own kind of sea change. Over the past decade, the automaker has doubled down on its most profitable and exciting vehicles — pickups, SUVs, and the Mustang muscle car — and dropped from its line-up the cheap, boring cars that once made it famous. It embraced, then backed off, the transition to electric vehicles, in part because it failed to make money from them; and it began to reckon with the surge of cheaper, cleaner, and “far superior” EVs from Chinese producers that are transforming global auto markets around the world.
Locked into its aging but reliable line-up, yet unable to innovate at the low end, Ford might seem like the epitome of a company facing disruptive innovation. No wonder its stock has traded flat from where it was five years ago — even as the broader market has surged by more than 70%.
Its solution is an EV skunkworks, run by Tesla alumni, where it can develop a new “universal EV platform” to undergird future vehicles. Today, we got a peek at the first car to emerge from that secret shop: an all-electric compact pickup that will hit the roads by the end of next year. Its name? The Ford Fathom.
We know very little about the Fathom, as our correspondent Andrew Moseman wrote today. It will retail for just over $28,000, and even with mandatory delivery costs and other add-ons will stick to this side of $30,000. That makes it only a smidge more expensive than the gas-burning Ford Maverick, a sporty, compact, and popular pickup that starts around $27,000.
Ford promises that the Fathom will have as much seating capacity as Toyota’s RAV4, America’s best-selling car that isn’t a truck. (Ford’s own F-150, of course, holds the true No. 1 spot.) Those dimensions suggest the Fathom will sport a four-door crew cab, like the Maverick, making it more acceptable to families with kids — or young professionals who want to give their friends rides on the weekend. It will also have a frunk.
Beyond that, though, we don’t know much. We don’t know its range, for instance, and its price point shouldn’t inspire too much confidence on that front. Nor do we know, frankly, whether Ford can pull it off: When the automaker announced its first electric truck, the F-150 Lightning, in 2021, it claimed a price point of less than $40,000. Eighteen months of inflation later, it actually sold them for closer to $55,000 — and it still lost money on every EV that it made. Fixing the latter problem is part of why the skunkworks exists in the first place, and Ford now has an additional half-decade of experience making EVs. But consumers hoping for a miraculously priced electric pickup from the Blue Oval have been burned before.
If the Fathom disappoints, though, then consumers will soon have other options. The American car market is about to be deluged with sporty, compact pickup trucks — a welcome change from just a few years ago, when the segment was almost entirely dominated by mid-size and half-ton models. The Jeff Bezos-backed startup Slate will start delivering two-door, all-electric pickups starting at $25,000 at the end of this year. The automaker Stellantis, which owns the Dodge and Jeep brands, says it wants to bring another compact pickup — it’s almost more of a ute — called the Rampage to North America soon.
That’s welcome news for me — I love these little trucks — but I’m a little worried I’ll be outside my pickup-buying years by the time they actually make it to market. In the meantime, I’ll keep you posted on other updates about the Fathom. Will “sea nymphs hourly ring its knell”? No, but it will have Apple CarPlay and Android Auto.
The company confirmed its plans to market research company Cleanview.
The data center buildout has hit a new inflection point. It has long been true that artificial intelligence is fueling climate change by driving up power demand; more recently, tech companies have started directly financing new natural gas plants in their quest for AI glory. Now one is backing the biggest fossil fuel-fired power plant ever to exist in the United States — exclusively to power an AI data center complex.
That company is Amazon, according to the market research company Cleanview, which reported on Friday that the tech giant is building an AI data center campus in Texas powered by an up to 7.65-gigawatt off-grid natural gas plant.
That’s larger than any other power plant in the country — fossil or otherwise. The next biggest plant is the Grand Coulee hydroelectric plant in Washington State, at 7 gigawatts, followed by Arizona’s 4-gigawatt Palo Verde nuclear plant, and the West Count Energy Center, a 3.7-gigawatt natural gas plant in Florida.
The new power plant’s developer, Pacifico Energy, announced in January that it had secured permits from Texas regulators for the project, dubbed “GW Ranch.” The site is also permitted for up to 750 megawatts of solar and 1.8 gigawatts of battery energy storage.
It was not clear who the customer for all this energy would be until earlier this week, when Cleanview uncovered construction permits Amazon filed showing that the company owned the GW Ranch site. The company confirmed to Cleanview that it acquired the site and planned to buy power from Pacifico’s plant.
Not only will this natural gas plant be larger than the one in Florida, it will also use far less efficient technology. Pacifico’s permit says it plans to build 35 “simple cycle” generating units, which are typically installed in rarely-used peaker power plants and waste a lot more fuel potential than the modern “combined cycle” natural gas plants that serve as baseload power for the grid today. These more efficient turbines are essentially on backorder for years, and power-hungry developers have increasingly turned to the simpler versions as a quick fix as they race to bring facilities online.
According to its permit, the GW Ranch plant is allowed to emit as much as 33 million tons of CO2 per year. That’s twice as much as the most-polluting power plant in the country, the James H. Miller Jr. coal plant in Alabama, emitted in 2023, the most recent year for which data is available.
In a statement to Cleanview, an Amazon spokesperson said the company “believes in paying the full costs of powering our operations,” and that this Texas project “does just that: it’s powered by new on-site generation that won’t raise electricity costs for Texas families and designed to transition to grid-connected service as interconnection timelines allow.”
Some researchers disagree on that point, however. In an opinion piece for Utility Dive, Energy Innovation director Jeffrey Rissman and senior fellow Eric Gimon argue that the proliferation of off-grid natural gas generation for data centers will increase costs for regular people more than if the data centers connected to the grid, because they will be competing with utility companies for gas supply. “Data centers can buy gas in bulk and sign long-term contracts (as we’ve seen in Texas, Pennsylvania and New Mexico), giving them access to cheap gas, even if this unfairly drives up prices for everyone else,” they write.
Jane Flegal, a senior fellow at the Searchlight Institute, has also argued that building off-grid natural gas plants to serve data centers locks in emissions for decades because the plants don’t face competitive pressure from other resources. When a new natural gas plant is hooked up to the grid, by contrast, there’s a far greater chance that cheaper, cleaner resources will displace its generation over time.
The Rhodium Group recently developed a scoring system to help investors differentiate between projects that are likely to accelerate the energy transition, those that will have little effect one way or the other, and those that will actively slow it down. They used it to assess options for powering data centers, and found that off grid natural gas plants scored the worst, falling at the bottom of the latter category.
Regardless, Amazon still, somehow, asserts that it is committed to achieve net zero emissions by 2040.
The smoke pouring into Seattle from Spokane is particularly bad, but there’s also no such thing as good smoke.
I wrote this story from inside a cloud of smoke. Owing to some funky meteorology in the Seattle area this week — a pressure ridge paired with a thermal trough — the region’s usual westerly winds reversed, causing smoke from the fires burning in the eastern half of the state to pour through the mountain passes and river valleys of the Cascades and pool over the populous Puget Sound lowlands, where I live.
Though it’s cleared up some today, I’m still running my air purifier on full blast because I know what’s in the lingering smoke. Unlike the still blazing wildfires in Ontario that are burning through mostly uninhabited forests, the smoke in the Seattle area this week came to us partially from Spokane, where the Old Trails fire razed at least 700 buildings and homes last weekend. That means that beyond the usual organic matter associated with wildfire smoke, the pollution that has hung over Seattle has likely also contained particles and chemicals from burned plastics, batteries, cars, and household appliances.
But how can the average person be sure whether their wildfire smoke is the bad kind or the worse kind? (At least assuming that well-adjusted people do not obsessively watch the animations on AirNow.Gov, as I do.) I turned to Coty Jen, an associate professor of chemical engineering, and Albert Presto, a research professor of mechanical engineering, both of Carnegie Mellon University, to learn more about the chemistry of wildfire smoke.
“There is no safe smoke,” Jen said, setting me straight immediately. “It’s all bad. It will piss your body off.”
While it’s true that some smoke is more toxic than other smoke, what you might call the “all natural, organic” variety will still spike hospital emission rates and exacerbate pre-existing respiratory diseases, even if it is mostly burning trees.
Under ideal conditions, when cellulose or lignin — the main structural components of trees and plants as well as leaf litter and soil, the largest sources of carbon during a forest fire — heat up and combust, the chemical reaction creates carbon dioxide, water, heat, and light. But wildfires don’t burn cleanly, and the chemical reactions often stall midway through that process due to things like oxygen availability and temperature variation, producing intermediate products like carbon monoxide or partially broken-down bits of carbon, often called soot. The tiniest of these particles can be smaller than 2.5 micrometers across — 30 or more could fit across the width of a human hair — and are measured collectively as PM2.5, a catch-all term that refers to the size of the particle rather than what it is. What’s important, though, is that these particles are small enough to penetrate deep into our lungs and potentially enter our bloodstream, factors that add to the known mortality associated with PM2.5 exposure.
Different kinds of forests create different emissions — heavy duff, or leaf litter, which is common in pine forests, creates some of the densest smoke conditions. Wetter fuels also burn “dirtier,” creating more pollution. Different topographies also impact air quality in myriad ways; it’s no surprise that some of the worst pollution from the Spokane wildfires pooled in mountain valleys as a warm overhead layer of air trapped the particles near the ground.
Even “natural” wildfires can be extra toxic; burning eucalyptus, which grows in Southern California, is not something you want to inhale. Pine smoke can cause mutations in bacterial DNA, a common lab test for a substance’s potential to cause cancer. Wildfires that smolder are worse than those that burn fast; researchers have found that PM2.5 can be up to 70 times higher when fuels aren’t actively on fire. “You can even see this if you’ve ever built a fire yourself,” Presto explained. “There’s a period where everything is big and flaming, and then, if you’re burning a log, it eventually goes down to smoldering. The emissions are different.”
In the case of something like a house burning down in a wildfire, however, it’s not only cellulose and lignin combusting. “We’re good at engineering materials that are extremely robust, but when they burn, they release very exotic compounds,” Jen said. She pointed to the common plastic PVC, which is used for everything from exterior siding to plumbing and window frames. When it combusts, PVC releases chlorine, “which is very bad for you,” Jen told me. “It’s like how bleach is bad for you — it’s a pretty nasty chlorine compound. PVC isn’t releasing bleach, but it is releasing radical chlorine molecules that produce some crazy compounds.”
If you’re following a smoke event at home, the answer is “not really.” PM2.5 is measured in micrograms per cubic meter, which tells us how much small stuff is floating around, but not what that small stuff is. “It is pretty difficult to measure all the different compounds that wildfires, or broadly any pollution, will emit,” Jen said. “The easiest way to quantify it is to literally suck air onto a filter and measure how heavy it got.”
Measuring what exactly is in that mass requires instruments that cost in the ballpark of half a million dollars, which is not financially feasible at every air monitoring station, Jen went on. But while there are certainly academic applications for that kind of knowledge, a person trying to decide whether or not to go for their run in wildfire smoke doesn’t need that level of granularity.
“Some smoke is definitely more dangerous,” Jen said. “But as innocent bystanders, it’s not like we can pick and choose what smoke floats over to us. You just have to live with it, so the best mentality is to treat all smoke as bad.”
In a 2026 Science Advances study that attributed more than 24,000 deaths per year to wildfire smoke in the U.S., researchers found no safe threshold for PM2.5 exposure. Every 0.1 microgram per cubic meter increase in a county’s average annual PM2.5 from smoke was associated with nearly 5,600 excess deaths nationwide, even though most counties saw only trace amounts of smoke — about 0.4 micrograms per cubic meter a year. While it’s “orange sky” days, when the pollution spikes into triple-digit AQI numbers, that get the most media attention, even low exposure that you can’t smell or even see can be affecting your health.
PM2.5 is just one component of wildfire smoke — the other is gases, including benzene and formaldehyde. Many gases chemically transform as they move from where the fire is to where you inhale them. “The atmosphere is extremely oxidizing — it likes to add oxygen molecules onto compounds,” Jen said.
Some of those compounds react faster than others, “so it depends how downwind you are,” Jen went on. That’s why people closer to a wildfire — maybe a day or less downwind — get the distinctive campfire smell, mainly from the “young” vapors and volatile organic compounds. But for people on the East Coast who were subject to the Ontario smoke several weeks ago, the smoke had to travel several days to reach places like Pittsburgh and New York, and by then the sharper-smelling compounds had transformed into new pollutants like ozone.
The AQI only measures a few specific gases that are considered “criteria pollutants” under the Clean Air Act, which means, as Presto told me, “during these fires, you could emit a whole bunch of different other gases that don’t have an AQI number.”
Instead, you can look at the PM2.5 number to get the gist of how prevalent wildfire gases are. “If your PM 2.5 is high, it’s impossible for the bad gasses to be low,” Jen said. “The way we think about it is, there’s a bunch of junk on the particle, and if the same junk’s not also in the gas, it will evaporate off the particle into the gas. They always exist together.”
You might notice by now that I’ve written little about the actual AQI number, that score that appears on your weather app and runs from zero to 500 (or, confusingly, even higher). That’s because while the AQI is a great communication tool, it doesn’t offer us much in the way of the science of wildfire smoke.
The AQI measures five different pollutants — PM2.5, ozone, carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, and nitrogen dioxide — with the EPA setting specific concentration thresholds for each one, as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo has explained. “If local concentrations of any one of them tick up above those protective standards, the AQI will jump from green to a more alarming color,” she wrote. “The higher the level of pollution is, the higher the AQI and the darker the color will be.”
If you want to impress your friends, though, you ought to zero in specifically on the PM2.5 concentration — again, because the prevalence of the tiniest particulates is a good indicator of all the other gunk you can assume is in the air, too. (You can find the specific PM2.5 concentration usually by clicking for more information about the AQI on your weather app or checking IQ Air’s widget.) For example, at the time of this writing, my local PM2.5 concentration is 50 micrograms per cubic meter, more than triple the World Health Organization’s 15 micrograms per cubic meter threshold for 24-hour exposure. (The EPA’s 24-hour threshold is much more lenient, at 35 micrograms per cubic meter.)
When I asked Jen how she stays sane knowing all she knows about smoke exposure, she laughed. “I have just generally become more terrified of all campfires and all barbecues, but people already think I’m weird, so I might as well add to it,” she told me.
In all seriousness, though, she told me the answer is air filters, and her confidence in their ability to work. When wildfire smoke rolled through Pittsburgh, she had two running that she moved from room-to-room with her family, as well as a whole-house air filter. “We were getting PM2.5 concentrations in our house of about 80 micrograms per cubic meter when it was 150 outside,” she said. “But with the air filter on, we could drop that down to less than eight.”
Jen pointed out, though, that many people do not run their air filters properly. Filters are rated at their highest blower level, “so for them to be effective, you need to crank them to their highest setting to get all the air through,” she said. Most people keep their filters on auto or low because they’re so loud — myself included, until I learned otherwise.
Additionally, while an air filter is a rather large appliance, it really ought to be placed in the center of your room to be the most efficient, rather than up against a wall. (Again, my bad.) “When these wildfire events happen, the most effective place for the air filter is where you are, and you have to run it loud, which kind of sucks,” Jen said. “But it is better than breathing in gross air.”