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The end has been coming for a while. With the EPA’s new power plant emissions rules, though, it’s gotten a lot closer.

There’s no question that coal is on its way out in the U.S. In 2001, coal-fired power plants generated about 50% of U.S. electricity. Last year, they were down to about 15%.
On Thursday, however, the Biden administration arguably delivered a death blow. New carbon emission limits for coal plants establish a clear timeline by which America’s remaining coal generators must either invest in costly carbon capture equipment or close. With many of these plants already struggling to compete with cheaper renewables and natural gas, it’s not likely to be much of a choice. If the rule survives legal challenges, the nation’s coal fleet could be extinct by 2039.
Coal plant retirement presents a two-pronged problem: Utilities have to figure out how to replace lost power generation, and the surrounding community must reckon with the lost tax revenue and jobs from the power plants and the coal mines that supplied them.
From the beginning, Biden has promised to help revitalize the economies of the communities left in coal’s wake. “We’re never going to forget the men and women who dug the coal and built the nation,” he said when he laid out his energy transition plan just a week after entering office. “We’re going to do right by them.”
Economic revitalization doesn’t happen overnight, of course, or even in the span of a four-year term. But money is already rolling out in the form of targeted investments in new energy sources, businesses, and jobs in coal communities, and there’s more to come.
It’s the proactive planning aspect, however, that remains underresourced and scattershot.
Emily Grubert, a civil engineer and sociologist at the University of Notre Dame, told me there are few plants that are expected to make it past 2039 regardless, due to their age and the economics of operating them. The emissions rule’s real potential, then, is to bring about a more orderly — and potentially less painful — exit.
A Heatmap analysis of Energy Information Administration data found that of the nation’s roughly 230 remaining coal plants, 38 are scheduled to fully shut down by 2032. These plants won’t have to make any changes under the new rule. An additional five will shutter by 2039. These will be required to reduce their emissions in the interim, beginning in 2030, by replacing some of the coal they burn with natural gas. That leaves about 190 plants with either partial retirement plans or no plans at all that will be forced to make a decision between carbon capture and shutting down.
Grubert told me that many of these plants have, in fact, communicated informal plans to shut down that are not recorded in the federal data. That aside, she called it “amazing” how many have no retirement plans at all.
For surrounding communities, an impending coal transition can look really different in different places, depending on geography and how diverse the local economy is. Still, the first step should be the same everywhere. “What you need to do, really practically, is figure out what that plant is supporting,” Grubert told me. “What needs to be replaced, for whom, and by when?
It’s a lot more concrete than it seems: It’s some specific number of people, it’s some specific amount of tax revenue. It’s much easier to move forward once you actually know what those are.”
How much of that work has been done so far depends, in part, on the state. Some, like Colorado, New Mexico, and Illinois, have established new positions or entirely new offices dedicated to helping communities transition off fossil fuels. But other states, like Wyoming and Ohio, have advanced measures to keep coal plants open as long as possible.
Successful planning also depends on how clearly a retirement date is articulated and stuck to, Jeffrey Jacquet, an associate professor of rural sociology at Ohio State University who leads a multidisciplinary research project on coal communities there, told me. Some communities have been told one date and then been blindsided when a plant has been forced to shut down years earlier for economic reasons. He noted one success story in Shadyside, Ohio, where the local school board was able to negotiate a deal to slowly step down its tax collections over four years after learning the RE Burger coal plant was going to close. “Had they not weaned us off losing that tax revenue, we would have been in terrible shape,” a school board administrator told a student on Jacquet’s project. “Fiscally we’re pretty good on solid ground now, but at one point it was an extremely bleak time.”
The new power plant rule could help address some of these problems by putting the entire country on the same set timeline, forcing plant operators to put retirement dates in writing. There’s still a risk some will fail early, in unforeseen ways, but at least communities will have been put on notice.
Those who go looking for help will find ample resources. When I started looking into all of the programs that exist to bring investment into coal communities, or otherwise help them diversify their economies, I was surprised at how much investment in coal communities had already been set in motion:
This list is far from comprehensive. In fact, there are so many programs, it’s kind of a problem.
“So much of it comes down to the local capacity to take advantage of these opportunities,” Jacquet told me. “A lot of these communities are losing population, they’re facing out-migration. Community leaders are already overworked and overstressed.” (Possible case in point: I reached out to several local groups doing coal transition work in West Virginia and Kentucky for this story, and wasn’t able to get anyone on the phone.)
This isn’t a new problem, per se. The federal government had dozens of programs and pots of money set aside for rural economic development before the Biden administration came into the White House, but they were scattered across different agencies and departments within those agencies, making it difficult for any overworked, overstressed town manager to know where to start.
Jeremy Richardson, a manager of the carbon-free electricity program at the think tank RMI, told me he was involved in a group that pitched policies to the incoming president that would help ease the process. “It shouldn’t be on the community to navigate the entire federal bureaucracy to figure out what they qualify for,” he said.
Biden took the note. In his first climate executive order, he established the Interagency Working Group on Coal and Power Plant Communities and Economic Revitalization, which is building tools to help companies and local governments identify funding opportunities. Its “getting started guide,” which Richardson called a “fantastic piece of work,” walks communities and workers through 10 concrete steps, from identifying needs to developing a transition strategy to finding funding and implementing a project, with curated resources for each step. The group also established four “rapid response” teams to provide more targeted assistance to communities in areas with the highest loss of coal assets.
Jacquet summed up the group’s work as “hand holding,” stressing that it still required people at the local level that were willing and able to take advantage of these services. “I think we’re sort of seeing this phenomenon where the communities that are already best positioned to take advantage of these are going to be the ones that take advantage of it,” he said.
There are other limitations to the broader suite of federal assistance programs. For instance, even if a community is able to attract a big manufacturing project, there may be a several-years gap between the coal plant closing and the new job opportunities and local tax revenue manifesting.
That’s why the coordination efforts in states like Colorado, which was the first to establish an Office of Just Transition in 2019, are so promising. The office has a small staff of six, and a meager budget of $15 million, but is making progress by focusing on highly targeted assistance. In the town of Craig, two nearby coal-fired power plants are scheduled to retire over the next four years and four coal mines will shutter by 2030, taking with them 900 jobs and about 45% of the county’s tax revenue. A new “transition navigator” hired in January will help match the town’s needs with federal and state funding opportunities and serve as a central point of contact for coal workers and their families seeking connection to services.
“I think it’s been really helpful,” said Richardson. “They’ve had long conversations — several years of conversations — with those communities in northwest Colorado that are facing closures soon.” The office was controversial at first. Republicans called it “Orwellian” and unanimously opposed it. But in the years since, some of its staunchest critics have become its biggest champions. “To me that says that they’re doing some good work and they’re making some inroads.”
There’s progress on the energy side, too. RMI is pushing a model called “clean repowering,” enabled by a suite of IRA incentives that offer tax credits and loan guarantees for clean energy projects in fossil fuel communities. The idea is that renewable energy projects can get around the yearslong bottleneck of connecting to the grid by building in close proximity to existing fossil fuel plants. A lot of these plants have “spare” interconnection rights that a solar or wind farm could use to connect a lot sooner.
RMI found 250 gigawatts of spare rights available — which is more than the capacity of the entire existing coal fleet. “If you can build a renewable facility alongside where that fossil plant is, maybe you use the fossil plant a little less because it’s cheaper to generate from the renewables, but you know, you don’t have to close it immediately,” said Richardson.
As Daniel Raimi, a fellow at Resources for the Future, told me, even though the coal transition has been in motion for decades, it’s still early. There hasn’t been enough research. Much of the funding and programs are new. No one really knows yet what’s working, or what could work better.
The only thing that’s clear, he said, is that if these communities are going to develop alternative economic futures, they really need to begin that process now.
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Water pollution in Wyoming has big implications for the future of data center development.
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.”
A conversation with Ross Marchard of the Taxpayers Protection Alliance
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.
The enhanced geothermal company just announced a new 19,448-foot well.
Enhanced geothermal company Fervo has drilled another well.
This one is 19,448 feet deep, the company announced Thursday, and includes a 7,500-foot span laterally across the sub-surface. The well — called Sawtooth 7, part of Phase II of its flagship Cape Station project in Milford, Utah — took 21 days to drill, the company said. That matches the time required to drill the wells in Phase I, though the new one is nearly 35% deeper than those, on average, with a 50% greater lateral extension.
The greater depth and distance means greater energy potential from the well, while faster drilling times mean much lower costs. Tim Latimer, Fervo’s co-founder and chief executive, compared the timeline to that of the company’s 2022 Project Red well in Nevada, which achieved a depth of 11,220 feet in 70 days.
“Today, we are drilling deeper, hotter wells that will produce multiples more [megawatts] per well than our Project Red pilot, and we are doing it in a fraction of the time,” Latimer wrote.
Fervo says that its drilling rates at the Cape Station site have improved by 143% since it broke ground there in 2023.
The company says it’s now on track to get project costs down to $5,500 per kilowatt, working toward a goal of $3,000 per kilowatt over the long term. In its IPO filing, Fervo said costs at Cape Station were around $7,000 per kilowatt, indicating significant improvements in drilling efficiency in a relatively short period of time.
The news should be welcome to Fervo and its investors. Shortly after going public in May, the company announced that one of its Utah wells blew out. The company said at the time that there were no injuries, nor was there any environmental damage or “material impact to either cost or schedule of the project” at Cape Station.
Fervo raised almost $2 billion in its IPO, which it said will go to fund further progress on the flagship installation. Shares were trading at around $26 on Thursday afternoon, just shy of their $27 IPO price and up over 13% on the day.