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The Changli is weird, about $1,000, and a surprisingly compelling vision of the future.

If you’re trying to solve a problem, it’s unlikely that anyone is going to look over your efforts, scribble things on a pad, scowl, and then say, “Have you tried half-assing it? Really phone it in?” This almost never happens. And yet it's precisely what I think needs to happen for electric cars to live up to their potential. They need to suck far, far more than they currently do. I know this sounds like what many experts would call “a terrible idea” and “stupid,” but I’m confident in this belief for one very notable reason: I’ve lived it.
For the past few years, I’ve used and enjoyed an electric car that is, by the standards of any EV available on the mass market today, terrible. I’m talking about something with about 1/10th the range, about 1/250th the horsepower (and that’s being generous), and maybe 1/5th the maximum speed of a modern EV. These are the sort of specs that should be charitably considered garbage.
And yet, despite it all, what I’ve learned is that not only are such meager capabilities enough for a shocking amount of my transportation needs, the whole experience has been downright fun. Yes, fun.
The car I’m talking about is called the Changli Freeman, and I believe it is the cheapest car in the world. In fact, that was the initial reason I bought it. You see, my job is to write about and do things with interesting cars, so when the pandemic arrived in 2020, that put a real crimp in my usual plans of traveling to people with strange cars all over the country and driving them, on video, to the delight of audiences in the high severals.
So, stuck at home, I hatched a new plan: I’d bring the interesting cars to me! Well, one interesting car, and that interesting car would be the cheapest new car one could buy.
My research brought me to a category of automobile that is known in their native land, China, as 老头乐, something that translates to “old man happy car.” That’s because this type of car is primarily sold to elderly folks in second-tier cities who need something to get to the market or pick up grandkids from school. Slow is just fine, and the legality of these cars, even in their native China, is muddy, at best. But they are definitely cars, of a sort.
At $930, the Changli was the cheapest of the cheap. Add in the necessary five 12V lead-acid batteries, which aren’t included in the base price, and the bill lurches up to $1,200, still absolutely, impossibly, floor-settingly dirt cheap for a new car of any kind.
Oh, and perhaps equally incredibly, I found this car on the website Alibaba.com, and bought it online, just like you would buy a video game console that looks like a Playstation 5 but perversely only plays 40-year-old Nintendo games.
Sure, shipping from China and all of the related customs hassles brought the total cost to about $3,300, but even so, we’re still talking about something wildly inexpensive. We’re still comfortably lying down on that bottom tier, and if you need further proof of this, here’s a video of me when I first got it and had to take it out of the massive cardboard box it shipped in:
Unboxing The World's Cheapest New Car Reveals It's So Much Better Than You Thinkwww.youtube.com
Now, aside from the fact that my new car arrived in a cardboard box, what you should note is my raw, unmitigated delight.
I had been genuinely ready to accept what would effectively be a plastic porta-potty-type body on a crude, flimsy chassis with a chain-driven axle and an effective operational lifespan roughly on par with your average mosquito. But that’s not what I got. What I got was a very cleverly-designed little car with an all-steel body, all the required legal lights and indicators, a windshield wiper, heater, radio with an MP3 player, and even a freaking backup camera. It was so much better than I ever could have imagined.
I later brought the Changli to Munro and Associates, one of the leading vehicular evaluation companies in the world, a place where major automotive manufacturers bring competitors' products to determine how they’re built and how much it costs to make them.
Sandy Munro, who runs the company, was genuinely stunned by what the Changli had to offer, and how it was made:
Sandy Munro Attempts To Demystify The Absurdly Low Cost Of The Changliwww.youtube.com
Remember, these are the reactions of someone who has torn down every major electric car on the market, from Teslas to Fords to BMWs. He knows what he’s talking about.
The specs on the car aren’t exactly impressive: 1.1 horsepower electric motor, 60V of batteries which gave a (tested) range of 27 miles, and a top speed of about 25 mph or so, though something around 20 was more common. My kid is able to run up a hill faster than the Changli can get up it. And yet, somehow, it works.
Here's What The World's Cheapest Electric Car Is Like To Drivewww.youtube.com
It actually does more than just work; it’s a usable transportation solution for far more of my normal transportation needs than I’d have ever guessed. While it may have come into my life as a curio, it very rapidly became an actually useful conveyance.
I used it to go to the grocery store. I sometimes took my kid to school in it, or to a friend’s house. I picked up take-out. I got parts from the auto parts store when one or more of my “real” cars needed repair. I met friends out at restaurants or galleries or clubs in town, and when I did, I could always park where no one else could, nose-to-curb or in tiny nooks behind dumpsters or any number of other small, forgotten spaces.
I did all of the sorts of mundane, low-distance, low-speed personal transportation acts that we all do, and which command a far larger percentage of our day-to-day transportation needs than many of us realize.
Now, I live in an environment where this sort of thing is perhaps unusually possible. It’s a college town, so there’s a lot of fairly dense commerce surrounded by a lot of low-speed streets, which makes it ideal for using a low-speed neighborhood electric vehicle (as it’s technically classed). According to the rules of this vehicle classification, which varies a lot from state-to-state, I can drive my absurd little machine on any street with a speed limit of 35 mph or less, though I think I can cross streets with higher limits.
There’s no highway travel, of course, but that’s not a restriction I’d need to be told to obey, as trying to drive this thing on a highway would be like shoving a sloth into the path of a cattle stampede. Were I to be in an accident with something like an F-150, I’d probably end up accordian’d like a cartoon coyote.
What I learned was that about 75% of my daily transportation needs could be accomplished with this shockingly minimal machine, and, even better, done with more fun than getting in a full-sized car. It was even easier than driving my regular cars! It was quiet and leisurely and everyone who saw this refugee from Cartoonistan greeted it with amused bewilderment or a smile or both.
Compared to a real EV like, say, a Tesla Model 3, this thing is a joke. But it’s a joke that can get to and from the grocery store in about the same amount of time when driving through town, and accomplish pretty much the same job, for a tiny fraction of the price and without hauling around an extra 3,000 pounds of car and battery that were, for the purposes of a trip like a grocery run, just dead weight.
There’s something in the automotive industry known as “vehicle demand energy,” which basically refers to the amount of energy needed to simply put the whole car in motion. The vehicle demand energy of a Tesla or a Ford Mach-E or even a Nissan Leaf is orders of magnitude higher than what the Changli demands, and for an awful lot of driving, that’s wasted energy.
If we’re really serious about using EVs to make a real dent in climate issues and energy usage, then we should adjust our thinking to make room for Changli-type vehicles.
Side by side with a “real car,” the Changli looks like a comical, shrunken subset, but compared to other minimalistic electric, low-speed transportation solutions like an e-bike, it feels like being carried in a luxurious, silken-draped litter. Unlike an e-bike, you’re still enjoying complete protection from the weather, and since you’re not teetering on a pair of wheels, but are rather cozily lounging inside a metal box, you can carry so much more stuff.
That’s why a minimal car-esque EV like the Changli is viable for transporting, say, tubs of Chinese food home or taking your kid to school: It’s a car, not a bike. It’s an obvious thing to note, but it’s a big deal when it comes to actually using the thing.
Sure, you can’t take a roadtrip in a Changli, but you knew that from the moment you looked at it. It is just a case of the right tool for the right job. Live somewhere dense, with a lot of low-speed travel? Maybe a Changli makes sense! Live on a compound and it’s a 45-minute trip if you need dental floss? Maybe not. There will always be a place for long-range, comfortable and safe EVs, capable of high speeds and long road trips, but they don’t need to be your daily driver.
Perhaps many of us will have small, fun, a-bit-better-than-Changli-type vehicles that we drive day-to-day, and then take majestic powerful, long-range EVs on the occasional road trip.
This doesn’t have to be a punishment. I’m a gearhead, I love cars and driving, and I can honestly say my driving experiences in the Changli have been a blast. I even took it to a track event. I’m pretty sure I hit 26 mph, and, like any car at its limit, it was pretty fun, making those bagel-sized tires squeal and feeling that tall, silly body lean and tilt like a drunk on an escalator.
Already in Europe we’re starting to see some realization that this sort of category is viable; French carmaker Citroën has a cheap, $10,000-ish car called the Ami that is classified under European quadracycle laws, which is essentially a category for low-speed city cars, which make a lot of sense the dense urban landscapes found all over Europe.
The Ami’s speed is limited to 28 mph (I suspect it’s technically capable of more), and it can go about 47 miles on a full charge, both of which are enough for the job it’s designed to do. The more I think about cars like the Changli and the Ami, the more I think they should be far, far more common than they are.
If we want to really change the transportation landscape in a way that’s good for the climate, is less demanding on the difficult rare-earth resources required to make EV batteries (for the resources that go into the battery of one full-range and power EV, you can likely make at least three short-range-use EVs), and yet still preserves so much of the personal transportation freedom that we’ve all grown to expect, then its time to really think about scaling down the sorts of vehicles that we use for all the little drives we do.
And, remember, it’s not a punishment. It’ll be fun. I know, because, again, I’m doing it, in the most minimal, ridiculous way possible.
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With construction deadlines approaching, developers still aren’t sure how to comply with the new rules.
Certainty, certainty, certainty — three things that are of paramount importance for anyone making an investment decision. There’s little of it to be found in the renewable energy business these days.
The main vectors of uncertainty are obvious enough — whipsawing trade policy, protean administrative hostility toward wind, a long-awaited summit with China that appears to have done nothing to resolve the war with Iran. But there’s still one big “known unknown” — rules governing how companies are allowed to interact with “prohibited foreign entities,” which remain unwritten nearly a year after the One Big Beautiful Bill Act slapped them on just about every remaining clean energy tax credit.
The list of countries that qualify as “foreign entities of concern” is short, including Russian, Iran, North Korea, and China. Post-OBBBA, a firm may be treated as a “foreign-influenced entity” if at least 15% of its debt is issued by one of these countries — though in reality, China is the only one that matters. This rule also kicks in when there’s foreign entity authority to appoint executive officers, 25% or greater ownership by a single entity or a combined ownership of at least 40%.
Any company that wants to claim a clean energy tax credit must comply with the FEOC rules. How to calculate those percentages, however, the Trump administration has so far failed to say. This is tricky because clean energy projects seeking tax credits must be placed in service by the end of 2027 or start construction by July 4 of this year, which doesn’t leave them much time left to align themselves with the new rules.
While the Treasury Department published preliminary guidance in February, it largely covered “material assistance,” the system for determining how much of the cost of the project comes from inputs that are linked to those four nations (again, this is really about China). That still leaves the issue of foreign influence and “effective control,” i.e. who is allowed to own or invest in a project and what that means.
This has meant a lot of work for tax lawyers, Heather Cooper, a partner at McDermott Will & Schulte, told me on Friday.
“The FEOC ownership rules are an all or nothing proposition,” she said. “You have to satisfy these rules. It’s not optional. It’s not a matter of you lose some of the credits, but you keep others. There’s no remedy or anything. This is all or nothing.”
That uncertainty has had a chilling effect on the market. In February, Bloomberg reported that Morgan Stanley and JPMorgan had frozen some of their renewables financing work because of uncertainty around these rules, though Cooper told me the market has since thawed somewhat.
“More parties are getting comfortable enough that there are reasonable interpretations of these rules that they can move forward,” she said. “The reality is that, for folks in this industry — not just developers, but investors, tax insurers, and others — their business mandate is they need to be doing these projects.”
Some of the most frequent complaints from advisors and trade groups come around just how deep into a project’s investors you have to look to find undue foreign ownership or investment.
This gets complicated when it comes to the structures involved with clean energy projects that claim tax credits. They often combine developers (who have their own investors), outside investment funds, banks, and large companies that buy the tax credits on the transferability market.
These companies — especially the banks, which fund themselves with debt — “don’t know on any particular date how much of their debt is held by Chinese connected lenders, and therefore they’re not sure how the rules apply, and that’s caused a couple of banks to pull out of the tax equity market,” David Burton, a partner at Norton Rose Fulbright, told me. “It seems pretty crazy that a large international bank that has its debt trading is going to be a specified foreign entity because on some date, a Chinese party decided to take a large position in its debt.”
For those still participating in the market, the lack of guidance on debt and equity provisions has meant that lawyers are having to ascend the ladder of entities involved in a project, from private equity firms who aren’t typically used to disclosing their limited partners to developers, banks, and public companies that buy the tax credits.
“We’re having to go to private equity funds and say, hey, how many of your LPs are Chinese?” David Burton, a partner at Norton Rose Fulbright, told me. This is not information these funds are typically particularly eager to share. If a lawyer “had asked a private equity firm please tell us about your LPs, before One Big Beautiful Bill, they probably would have told us to go jump in the lake,” Burton said.
Still, the deals are still happening, but “the legal fees are more expensive. The underwriting and due diligence time is longer, there are more headaches,” he told me.
Typically these deals involve joint ventures that formed for that specific deal, which can then transfer the tax credits to another entity with more tax liability to offset. The joint venture might be majority owned by a public company, with a large minority position held by a private equity fund, Burton said.
For the public company, Burton said, his team has to ask “Are any of your shareholders large enough that they have to be disclosed to the SEC? Are any of those Chinese?” For the private equity fund, they have to ask where its investors are residents and what countries they’re citizens of. While private equity funds can be “relatively cooperative,” the process is still a “headache.”
“It took time to figure out how to write these certifications and get me comfortable with the certification, my client comfortable with it, the private equity firm comfortable with it, the tax credit buyer comfortable with it,” he told me, referring to the written legal explanation for how companies involved are complying with what their lawyers think the tax rules are.
Players such as the American Council on Renewable Energy hope that guidance will cut down on this certification time by limiting the universe of entities that will have to scrub their rolls of Chinese investors or corporate officers.
“It’d be nice if we knew you only have to apply the test at the entity that’s considered the tax owner of the project,” i.e. just the joint venture that’s formed for a specific project, Cooper told me.
“There’s a pretty reasonable and plain reading of the statute that limits the term ’taxpayer’ to the entity that owns the project when it’s placed in service,” Cooper said.
Many in the industry expect more guidance on the rules by the end of year, though as Burton noted, “this Treasury is hard to predict.”
In the meantime, expect even more work for tax lawyers.
“We’re used to December being super busy,” Burton said. “But it now feels like every month since the One Big Beautiful Bill passed is like December, so we’ve had, like, you know, eight Decembers in a row.”
Deep cuts to the department have left each staffer with a huge amount of money to manage.
The Department of Energy has an enviable problem: It has more money than it can spend.
DOE disbursed just 2% of its total budgetary resources in fiscal year 2025, according to a report released earlier this year from the EFI Foundation, a nonprofit that tracks innovations in energy. That figure is far lower than the 38% of funds it distributed the year prior.
While some of that is due to political whiplash in Washington, there is another, far more mundane cause: There simply aren’t that many people left to oversee the money. Thanks to the Department of Government Efficiency’s efforts, one in five DOE staff members left the agency. On top of that, Energy Secretary Chris Wright shuffled around and combined offices in a Kafkaesque restructuring. Short on workers and clear direction, the department appears unable to churn through its sizable budget.

Though Congress provides budgetary authority, agencies are left to allot spending for the programs under their ambit, and then obligate payments through contracts, grants, and loans. While departments are expected to use the money they’re allocated, federal staff have to work through the gritty details of each individual transaction.
As a result of its reduced headcount, DOE’s employees are each responsible for far more budgetary resources than ever before.
“DOE is facing its largest imbalance in its history,” Alex Kizer, executive vice president of EFI Foundation, told me. In fiscal year 2017, DOE budgeted around $4.7 million per full-time employee. In the fiscal year 2026 budget request, that figure reached $35.7 million per worker — about eight times more.
Part of that increase is the result of the unprecedented injection of funding into DOE from the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act and the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. The pair of laws, which gave DOE access to $97 billion, comprised the United States’ largest investment to combat climate change in the nation’s history.
The epoch of federally backed renewable energy investment proved to be short-lived, however. Once President Trump retook office last year, his administration froze funds and initiated a purge of federal workers that resulted in 3,000 staffers (about one in five) leaving DOE through the Deferred Resignation Program. The administration canceled hundreds of projects, evaporating $23 billion in federal support.
While the One Big Beautiful Bill Act passed last summer depleted some of the IRA’s coffers and sunsetted many tax credits years early, it only rescinded about $1.8 billion from DOE, according to the EFI Foundation. Much of the IRA’s spending had already gone out the door or was left intact.
This leaves DOE in a strange position: Its budget is historically high, but its staffing levels have suffered an unprecedented drop.

Even before the short-lived Elon Musk-run agency took a chainsaw to the federal workforce, DOE struggled to hire enough people to keep up with the pace of funding demanded by the IRA’s funding deadlines. The Loan Programs Office, for example, was criticized for moving too slowly in shelling out its hundreds of billions in loan authority. According to a report from three ex-DOE staffers that Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo covered, the IRA’s implementation suffered from a lack of “highly skilled, highly talented staff” to carry out its many programs.
“The last year’s uncertainty and the staff cuts, the project cancellations, those increase an already tightening bottleneck of difficulty with implementation at the department,” Sarah Frances Smith, EFI Foundation’s deputy director, told me.
One former longtime Department of Energy staffer who asked not to be named because they may want to return one day told me that as soon as Trump’s second term started, funding disbursement slowed to a halt. Employees had to get permission from leadership just to pay invoices for projects that had already been granted funding, the ex-DOE worker said.
While the Trump administration quickly moved to hamstring renewable energy resources, staff were kept busy complying with executive orders such as removing any mention of diversity equity and inclusion from government websites and responding to automated “What did you do last week?” emails.
On top of government funding drying up, Kizer told me that the confusion surrounding DOE has had a “cooling effect on the private sector’s appetite to do business with DOE,” though the size of that effect is “hard to quantify.”
Under President Biden, DOE put a lot of effort into building trust with companies doing work critical to its renewable energy priorities. Now, states and companies alike are suing DOE to restore revoked funds. In a recent report, the Government Accountability Office warned, “Private companies, which are often funding more than 50 percent of these projects, may reconsider future partnerships with the federal government.”
Clean energy firms aren’t the only ones upset by DOE’s about-face. Even the Republican-controlled Congress balked at President Trump’s proposed deep cuts to DOE’s budget in its latest round of budget negotiations. Appropriations for fiscal year 2026 will be just slightly lower than the year before — though without additional headcount to manage it, the same difficulties getting money out the door will remain.
The widespread staff exit also appears to have slowed work supporting the administration’s new priorities, namely coal and critical minerals. LPO, which was rebranded the “Office of Energy Dominance Financing,” has announced only a few new loans since President Biden left office. Southern Company, which received the Office’s largest-ever loan, was previously backed by a loan to its subsidiary Georgia Power under the first Trump administration.
Despite Trump’s frequent invocation of the importance of coal, DOE hasn’t accomplished much for the technology besides some funding to keep open a handful of struggling coal plants and a loan to restart a coal gasification plant for fertilizer production that was already in LPO’s pipeline under Biden.
Even if DOE wanted to become an oil and gas-enabling juggernaut, it may not have the labor force it needs to carry out a carbon-heavy energy mandate.
“When you cut as many people as they did, you have to figure out who’s going to do the stuff that those people were doing,” said the ex-DOE staffer. “And now they’re going to move and going, Oh crap, we fired that guy.”
Will moving fast and breaking air permits exacerbate tensions with locals?
The Trump administration is trying to ease data centers’ power permitting burden. It’s likely to speed things up. Whether it’ll kick up more dust for the industry is literally up in the air.
On Tuesday, the EPA proposed a rule change that would let developers of all stripes start certain kinds of construction before getting a historically necessary permit under the Clean Air Act. Right now this document known as a New Source Review has long been required before you can start building anything that will release significant levels of air pollutants – from factories to natural gas plants. If EPA finalizes this rule, it will mean companies can do lots of work before the actual emitting object (say, a gas turbine) is installed, down to pouring concrete for cement pads.
The EPA’s rule change itself doesn’t mention AI data centers. However, the impetus was apparent in press materials as the agency cited President Trump’s executive order to cut red tape around the sector. Industry attorneys and environmental litigants alike told me this change will do just that, cutting months to years from project construction timelines, and put pressure on state regulators to issue air permits by allowing serious construction to start that officials are usually reluctant to disrupt.
“I think the intended result is also what will happen. Developers will be able to move more quickly, without additional delay,” said Jeff Holmstead, a D.C.-based attorney with Bracewell who served as EPA assistant administrator for air and radiation under George H.W. Bush. “It will almost certainly save some time for permitting and construction of new infrastructure.”
Air permitting is often a snag that will hold up a major construction project. Doubly so for gas-powered generation. Before this proposal, the EPA historically was wary to let companies invest in what any layperson would consider actual construction work. The race for more AI infrastructure has changed the game, supercharging what was already an active debate over energy needs and our nation’s decades-old environmental laws.
Many environmental groups condemned the proposal upon its release, stating it would make gas-powered AI data centers more popular and diminish risks currently in place for using dirtier forms of electricity. Normally, they argue, this permitting process would give state and federal officials an early opportunity to gauge whether pollution control measures make sense and if a developer’s preferred design would unduly harm the surrounding community. This could include encouraging developers to consider alternate energy sources.
“Inevitably agencies have flexibility as to how much they ask, and what this allows them to do is pre-commit in ways that’ll force agencies to take stuff off the table. What’s taken off the table, it’s hard to know, but you’re constraining options to respond to public concerns or recognize air quality impacts,” said Sanjay Narayan, Sierra Club’s chief appellate counsel.
Herein lies the dilemma: will regulatory speed for power sacrifice opportunities for input that could quell local concerns?
We’re seeing this dilemma play out in real time with Project Matador, a large data center proposal being developed in Amarillo, Texas, by the Rick Perry-backed startup Fermi Americas. Project Matador is purportedly going to be massive and Fermi claims its supposed to one day reach 11 GW, which would make it one of the biggest data centers in the world.
Fermi’s plans have focused on relying on nuclear power in the future. But the only place they’ve made real progress so far in getting permits is gas generation. In February, the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality gave Fermi its air permit for building and operating up to 6 gigawatts of gas power at Project Matador. At that time, Fermi was also rooting for relaxed New Source Review standards, applauding EPA in comments to media for signaling it would take this step. The company’s former CEO Toby Neugebauer also told investors on their first earnings call that Trump officials personally intervened to help get them gas turbines from overseas. (There’s scant public evidence to date of this claim and Neugebauer was fired by Fermi’s board last month.)
But now Fermi’s permit is also being threatened in court. In April, a citizens group Panhandle Taxpayers for Transparency filed a lawsuit against TCEQ challenging the validity of the permit. The case centers around whether the commission was right to deny a request for a contested case hearing brought by members of the group who lived and worked close to Project Matador. “Once these decisions are made, they don’t get reversed,” Michael Ford, Panhandle Taxpayers for Transparency’s founder, said in a fundraising video.
This is also a financial David vs. Goliath, as Ford admits in the fundraising video they have less than $2,000 to spend on the case – a paltry sum they admit barely covers legal bills. We’re also talking about a state that culturally and legally sides often with developers and fossil fuel firms.
At the same time, this lawsuit couldn’t come at a more difficult time as Fermi is struggling with other larger problems (see: Neugebauer’s ouster). Eric Allman, one of the attorneys representing Panhandle Taxpayers for Transparency, told me they’re still waiting on a judge assignment and estimated it’ll take about one year to get a ruling. Allman told me legally Fermi can continue construction during the legal challenge but there are real risks. “Applicants on many occasions will pause activity while there is an appeal pending,” he told me, “because if the suit is successful, they won’t have an authorization.”
Aerial photos reported by independent journalist Michael Thomas purportedly show Fermi hasn’t done significant construction since obtaining its air permit. Fermi did not respond to multiple requests for comment on the lawsuit.
Industry attorneys I spoke to who wished to remain anonymous told me it was too early to say whether EPA’s rulemaking would exacerbate local conflicts by making things move faster. “A lot of times the environmental community likes to litigate things in the hope delays will kill a project, so in that regard, this strategy may be harder for them to implement now,” one lawyer told me. “But just because a plant gets a permit doesn’t mean they can build.”
Environmental lawyers, meanwhile, clearly see more potential for social friction in a faster process. Keri Powell of the Southern Environmental Law Center compared this EPA action to xAI’s rapid buildout in Tennessee and Mississippi where the Al company’s construction of gas turbines before it received its permits has only added to local controversy. This new rule would not make what xAI did permissible; this is a different matter. Yet there are thematic similarities between what the company is doing and the new permitting regime, with natural gas generation expanding faster when companies are allowed to start forms of site work before an air permit is issued.
“By the time a permit is issued, the company will be very, very far along in constructing a facility. All they’ll need to do is bring in the emitting unit, and oftentimes that doesn’t entail very much,” she said. “Imagine you’re a state or local permitting agency – your ability to choose something different than what the company already decided to do is going to be limited.”