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As climate writers, my colleagues and I spend a lot of time telling readers that places are hot. The Arabian Peninsula? It’s hot. The Atlantic Ocean? It’s hot. The southern U.S. and northern Mexico? Hot and getting hotter.
But here’s a little secret: “Hot” doesn’t really mean … anything. The word is, of course, of critical importance when it comes to communicating that global temperatures are the highest they’ve been in 125,000 years because of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, or for public health officials to anticipate and prevent deaths when the environment reaches the point where human bodies start malfunctioning. But when you hear it’s “100 degrees out,” what does that really tell you?
Beyond that you’re a fellow member of the Fahrenheit cult, the answer is: not a lot. Humans can “probably avoid overheating” in temperatures of 115 degrees — but only if they’re in a dry room with 10 percent relative humidity, wearing “minimal” clothing, and not moving, The New York Times reports. On the other hand, you have a high chance of life-threatening heat stroke when it’s a mere 90 degrees out … if the humidity is at 95%. Then there are all the variables in between: if there’s a breeze, if you’re pregnant, if you’re standing in the shade or the sun, if you’re a child, if you’re running a 10K or if you’re napping on your couch in front of a swamp cooler.
In order to better specify how hot “hot” is, a number of different equations and techniques have been developed around the world. In general, this math takes into account two main variables: temperature (the one we all use, also known as “dry bulb” or “ambient air temperature,” which is typically measured five feet above the ground in the shade) and relative humidity (the percentage of air saturated with water vapor, also known as the ugly cousin of the trendier dew point; notably Canada’s heat index equivalent, the Humidex, is calculated from the dew point rather than the relative humidity).
In events like the already deadly heat dome over the southern United States and northern Mexico this week, you typically hear oohing and ahhing about the “heat index,” which is sometimes also called the “apparent temperature,” “feels like temperature,” “humiture,” or, in AccuWeather-speak, the “RealFeel® temperature.”
But what does that mean and how is it calculated?
The heat index roughly approximates how hot it “actually feels.”
This is different than the given temperature on the thermometer because the amount of humidity in the air affects how efficiently sweat evaporates from our skin and in turn keeps us cool. The more humidity there is, the less efficiently our bodies can cool themselves, and the hotter we feel; in contrast, when the air is dry, it’s easier for our bodies to keep cool. Regrettably, this indeed means that insufferable Arizonans who say “it’s a dry heat!” have a point.
The heat index, then, tells you an estimate of the temperature it would have to be for your body to be similarly stressed in “normal” humidity conditions of around 20%. In New Orleans this week, for example, the temperature on the thermometer isn’t expected to be above 100°F, but because the humidity is so high, the heat toll on the body will be as if it were actually 115°F out in normal humidity.
Importantly, the heat index number is calculated as if you were standing in the shade. If you’re exposed to the sun at all, the “feels like” is, of course, actually higher — potentially as many as 15 degrees higher. Someone standing in the New Orleans sun this week might more realistically feel like they’re in 130-degree heat.

Here’s the catch, though: The heat index is “purely theoretical since the index can’t be measured and is highly subjective,” as meteorologist Chris Robbins explains. The calculations are all made under the assumption that you are a 5’7”, 147-pound healthy white man wearing short sleeves and pants, and walking in the shade at the speed of 3.1 mph while a 6-mph wind gently ruffles your hair.
Wait, what?
I’m glad you asked.
In 1979, a physicist named R. G. Steadman published a two-part paper delightfully titled “The Assessment of Sultriness.” In it, he observed that though many approaches to measuring “sultriness,” or the combined effects of temperature and humidity, can be taken, “it is best assessed in terms of its physiological effect on humans.” He then set out, with obsessive precision, to do so.
Steadman came up with a list of approximately 19 variables that contribute to the overall “feels like” temperature, including the surface area of an average human (who is assumed to be 1.7 meters tall and weigh 67 kilograms); their clothing cover (84%) and those clothes’ resistance to heat transfer (the shirt and pants are assumed to be 20% fiber and 80% air); the person’s core temperature (a healthy 98.6°F) and sweat rate (normal); the effective wind speed (5 knots); the person’s activity level (typical walking speed); and a whole lot more.
Here’s an example of what just one of those many equations looked like:

Needless to say, Steadman’s equations and tables weren’t exactly legible for a normal person — and additionally they made a whole lot of assumptions about who a “normal person” was — but Steadman was clearly onto something. Describing how humidity and temperature affected the human body was, at the very least, interesting and useful. How, then, to make it easier?
In 1990, the National Weather Service’s Lans P. Rothfusz used multiple regression analysis to simplify Steadman’s equations into a single handy formula while at the same time acknowledging that to do so required relying on assumptions about the kind of body that was experiencing the heat and the conditions surrounding him. Rothfusz, for example, used Steadman’s now-outdated calculations for the build of an average American man, who as of 2023 is 5’9” and weighs 198 pounds. This is important because, as math educator Stan Brown notes in a blog post, if you’re heavier than the 147 pounds assumed in the traditional heat index equation, then your “personal heat index” will technically be slightly hotter.
Rothfusz’s new equation looked like this:
Heat index = -42.379 + 2.04901523T + 10.14333127R - 0.22475541TR - 6.83783x10-3T 2 - 5.481717x10-2R 2 + 1.22874x10-3T 2R + 8.5282x10-4TR2 - 1.99x10-6T 2R 2
So much easier, right?
If your eyes didn’t totally glaze over, it actually sort of is — in the equation, T stands for the dry bulb temperature (in degrees Fahrenheit) and R stands for the relative humidity, and all you have to do is plug those puppies into the formula to get your heat index number. Or not: There are lots of online calculators that make doing this math as straightforward as just typing in the two numbers.
Because Rothfusz used multiple regression analysis, the heat index that is regularly cited by the government and media has a margin of error of +/- 1.3°F relative to a slightly more accurate, albeit hypothetical, heat index. Also of note: There are a bunch of different methods of calculating the heat index, but Rothfusz’s is the one used by the NWS and the basis for its extreme heat alerts. The AccuWeather “RealFeel,” meanwhile, has its own variables that it takes into account and that give it slightly different numbers.
Midday Wednesday in New Orleans, for example, when the ambient air temperature was 98°F, the relative humidity was 47%, and the heat index hovered around 108.9°F, AccuWeather recorded a RealFeel of 111°F and a RealFeel Shade of 104°F.
You might also be wondering at this point, as I did, that if Steadman at one time factored out all these variables individually, wouldn’t it be possible to write a simple computer program that is capable of personalizing the “feel like” temperature so they are closer to your own physical specifications? The answer is yes, although as Randy Au writes in his excellent Substack post on the heat index equation, no one has seemingly actually done this yet. Math nerds, your moment is now.
Because we’re Americans, it is important that we use the weirdest possible measurements at all times. This is probably why the heat index is commonly cited by our government, media, and meteorologists when communicating how hot it is outside.
But it gets weirder. Unlike the heat index, though, the “wet-bulb globe temperature” (sometimes abbreviated “WBGT”) is specifically designed to understand “heat-related stress on the human body at work (or play) in direct sunlight,” NWS explains. In a sense, the wet-bulb globe temperature measures what we experience after we’ve been cooled by sweat.

The “bulb” we’re referring to here is the end of a mercury thermometer (not to be confused with a lightbulb or juvenile tulip). Natural wet-bulb temperature (which is slightly different from the WBGT, as I’ll explain in a moment) is measured by wrapping the bottom of a thermometer in a wet cloth and passing air over it. When the air is dry, it is by definition less saturated with water and therefore has more capacity for moisture. That means that under dry conditions, more water from the cloth around the bulb evaporates, which pulls more heat away from the bulb, dropping the temperature. This is the same reason why you feel cold when you get out of a shower or swimming pool. The drier the air, the colder the reading on the wet-bulb thermometer will be compared to the actual air temperature.
Wet bulb temperature - why & when is it used?www.youtube.com
If the air is humid, however, less water is able to evaporate from the wet cloth. When the relative humidity is at 100% — that is, the air is fully saturated with water — then the wet-bulb temperature and the normal dry-bulb temperature will be the same.
Because of this, the wet-bulb temperature is usually lower than the relative air temperature, which makes it a bit confusing when presented without context (a comfortable wet-bulb temperature at rest is around 70°F). Wet-bulb temperatures over just 80, though, can be very dangerous, especially for active people.
The WBGT is, like the heat index, an apparent temperature, or “feels like,” calculation; generally when you see wet-bulb temperatures being referred to, it is actually the WBGT that is being discussed. This is also the measurement that is preferred by the military, athletic organizations, road-race organizers, and the Occupational Safety and Health Administration because it helps you understand how, well, survivable the weather is, especially if you are moving.
Our bodies regulate temperature by sweating to shed heat, but sweat stops working “once the wet-bulb temperature passes 95°F,” explains Popular Science. “That’s because, in order to maintain a normal internal temperature, your skin has to stay at 95°F degrees or below.” Exposure to wet-bulb temperatures over 95°F can be fatal within just six hours. On Wednesday, when I was doing my readings of New Orleans, the wet-bulb temperature was around 88.5°F.
The WBGT is helpful because it takes the natural wet-bulb temperature reading a step further by factoring in considerations not only of temperature and humidity, but also wind speed, sun angle, and solar radiation (basically cloud cover). Calculating the WBGT involves taking a weighted average of the ambient, wet-bulb, and globe temperature readings, which together cover all these variables.
That formula looks like:
Wet-bulb globe temperature = 0.7Tw + 0.2Tg + 0.1Td
Tw is the natural wet-bulb temperature, Tg is the globe thermometer temperature (which measures solar radiation), and Td is the dry bulb temperature. By taking into account the sun angle, cloud cover, and wind, the WBGT gives a more nuanced read of how it feels to be a body outside — but without getting into the weeds with 19 different difficult-to-calculate variables like, ahem, someone we won’t further call out here.
Thankfully, there’s a calculator for the WBGT formula, although don’t bother entering all the info if you don’t have to — the NWS reports it nationally, too.
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There‘s a striking amount of agreement across the political system about what the big issues are.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
The country's fastest-growing market for data centers is, for now, frozen. Governor Greg Abbott of Texas announced on Monday that the state’s grid authority should not allow any more data centers to hook up until state regulatory agencies complete an audit of existing projects.
As part of this audit, data center developers will have to disclose the following, according to the governor:
“Any data center project that fails to comply” with the audit “must be denied,” Abbott wrote in a letter to the agencies.
Abbott's freeze isn't quite broad enough to be called a full-on moratorium. As The Texas Tribune noted, data centers that aren’t asking to connect to Texas’ power grid can proceed as planned. But the announcement does mean New York is no longer the only state where the governor is trying to slow down data center development. As my colleague Alexander Kaufman wrote today in Heatmap AM, Texas’s governor has more than a little in common with New York’s chief executive, Kathy Hochul — above all, they’re both running for re-election in November.
Now, as far as data center regulation goes, Abbott's disclosure requirements are pretty weak tea. That’s chiefly because they are, well, disclosure requirements — they don't require that any developer actually changes their behavior, just that they publish data saying what they were going to do in the first place.
Yet his announcement put me in mind of something I've been thinking about for a while: There might be more agreement about data center regulation than we think.
Take Michigan, for instance. The progressive Senate candidate in that state, Abdul El-Sayed (who could very likely win the Democratic primary tonight), has become prominent partly by speaking out about data centers. He was early to the topic, publishing mandatory “terms of engagement” for data center developers back in January, and his own rise has tracked the issue’s rising salience in American politics.
Some of El-Sayed’s recent remarks about data centers have an undertone of surprise, as if he is a little astounded by how prominent the issue has become. “There’s literally not a conversation that I have, not a stop that I make, where data centers and AI don’t come up,” he said last month. As he recently marveled on a campaign stop last week: “People really effing hate data centers.”
He hasn't called for a national data center moratorium, though, as his allies and endorsers Senator Bernie Sanders or Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have. Instead, his blessedly short document says Michiganders should have a few “rights” when a data center wants to build in their community:
He’s also called for an end to tax breaks for data centers.
El-Sayed is on the Democratic Party's left. Earlier today, a candidate seen as in the party’s center — Iowa gubernatorial candidate Rob Sand — released his own data center plan. It demands the following, at somewhat greater length:
Look — it’s pretty similar to El-Sayed’s list! Sand might be a moderate, and El-Sayed might be a progressive, but it’s hard to see too much daylight between their data center policies.
What’s notable about these policies is what’s not in them. Neither El-Sayed nor Sand would require that data centers be powered by clean energy, as, say, the Wisconsin DSA gubernatorial candidate Francesca Hong has proposed. Neither El-Sayed nor Sand moots a statewide moratorium on data centers, either. And while their proposals would have more teeth, in theory, than Abbott’s audit, the three proposals are interested in the same questions — energy use, water use, physical footprint, and tax incentives.
As we’ve frequently noted at Heatmap, the data center backlash is strikingly bipartisan. Americans of many backgrounds, belief systems, and byways of life agree that the data center boom is becoming a problem. I wonder if there’s more agreement about the solution, too, than we might think.
The state’s crystal clear lakes are turning into the Reflecting Pool.
Life is a constant process of dying — even for lakes. For Lake Kanasatka, a 350-acre body of water born when the glaciers raked their retreat into the bedrock of what is now New Hampshire, everything nearly came to an end in 2023.
The first sign that something was wrong appeared in 2009. That November, the state’s Department of Environmental Services noticed a “green scum” in the water near Camp Quinebarge Beach. Over the next few years, the DES continued to dutifully report the emergence of “greenish slime” along the shoreline until, in August 2020, the concentration reached a level that prompted the lake’s first warning of a toxic algae bloom.
In recent years, many lake-loving Americans have added that term — “toxic algae bloom” — to their summer lexicon. It’s also a bit of a misnomer: the culprit, cyanobacteria, are not technically algae but ubiquitous single-celled microorganisms, their photosynthetic chlorophyll and an additional pigment giving them the blue-green appearance suggested by their name. “They’ve been around forever,” Amanda McQuaid, a water quality ecotoxicologist at the University of New Hampshire and director of the school’s citizen-science lake monitoring program, told me. “I personally think they’re probably on Mars. I think they’re everywhere. They’re indestructible.”
Cyanobacteria are present across habitats, from the Sahara dust in Africa to the shelves of our grocery stores to the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool in Washington, D.C. (The Trump Administration can attest firsthand to their indestructibility.) What transforms a healthy concentration of cyanobacteria in a lake into a bloom is access to nutrients — specifically phosphorus, which enters lakes via runoff from fertilized lawns or farms, leaky septic tanks, pet waste, and eroding shorelines. As lakeside living has increased in desirability and housing development has encroached on natural bodies of water, blooms have consequently followed.
Though the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention does not keep an official count of cyanobacterial blooms, a conservative estimate puts the number of advisories issued nationally in the hundreds, and more likely in the thousands, every year. Cyanobacteria are a class of organisms with thousands of species, like plants, but many produce toxins as part of their metabolic processes. These toxins are numerous and include microcystin, which affects the liver and can cause skin irritation and gastrointestinal problems upon contact with swimmers and waders, as well as anatoxin, a neurotoxin that can kill a dog within minutes of it lapping up contaminated lake water on a hot summer day.
Most alarming, though, is that many cyanobacteria also produce the neurotoxin BMAA, which can become airborne and which researchers have connected to neurodegenerative diseases in humans. According to another study by Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center neurologist Elijah Stommel, people living within a half-mile radius of cyanobacterially contaminated lakes had a 2.3-times greater risk of developing the devastating and terminal nervous system disease ALS compared to the rest of the population. In the case of one contaminated lake near Enfield, New Hampshire, the incidence of sporadic ALS was 10 to 25 times above what was to be expected. And in a state like New Hampshire, which was gouged by the glacial retreat at the end of the last ice age, nearly 80% of residents live within half a mile of some body of water.
Scuzzy green water occurs in every state in the country. Nationally, the Environmental Protection Agency detected the telltale microcystin toxin in 39% of U.S. lakes in a 2012 survey; by the EPA’s most recent survey, in 2022, that number had risen to 50%. Still, in places like New Hampshire, cyanobacterial blooms are a relatively new phenomenon, having recently intensified due to increased development and climate change. “People are not used to going to a lake in New Hampshire and not being able to see through the water,” McQuaid said. “So if things are green or scummy or turbid, they’re like, ‘What is happening?’”
Between 2001 and 2008, Andrea LaMoreaux worked for the state’s Department of Environmental Services, running a water-quality testing program. She told me that during that time, she saw only one lake with a cyanobacterial bloom. But by 2015, blooms had become a topic of conversation in the state, and by 2023, just three years after its first toxic algae advisory, Lake Kanasatka was in a full-blown crisis.
“This is a lake that had a reputation for always being pristine — a very quiet lake,” state Representative Rosemarie Rung, who represents nearby Merrimack and owns a seasonal cottage on Kanasatka, told me. But 2023 was markedly different: the bloom was bad enough to dissuade recreation for weeks on end — in the “Live Free or Die” state, the DES doesn’t close beaches, even due to blooms. One woman described the feeling of her lips going numb while kayaking.
Kanasatka had crossed a tipping point. As part of a lake’s natural aging process, organic debris settles on its floor and decomposes, eventually consuming all the oxygen in the water. When that happens, phosphorus normally bound to iron in the sediment is released into the water — where it in turn provides extra nutrients for cyanobacteria. While human-caused inputs like runoff might previously have limited the cyanobacteria, lake anoxia offers them a firehose of nutrients to feast upon.
The tipping point is around 10 parts per billion of phosphorus in the water; in Kanasatka in 2023, there was around 200 parts per billion. “All of a sudden, [Kanasatka residents] woke up one morning and literally almost overnight, it looked like someone had dumped Mountain Dew into the lake,” LaMoreaux, the former DES employee who now serves as the president of NH Lakes, a statewide nonprofit lake conservation and advocacy group, told me.
Left untreated, Kanasatka would have slowly suffocated, with dead cyanobacteria adding to the decomposing organic matter at the bottom of the lake and blocking light to lake plants, making the anoxia worse. But there is one reliable way to treat a cyanobacteria bloom: with alum.
Phosphorus breaks apart from iron in the absence of oxygen, but it binds permanently with aluminum. An alum treatment, then, involves coating the lake bottom with an aluminum-heavy chemical concoction and is one of the only ways out of the slimy green cyanobacterial feedback loop. But so-called “biomanipulation” also has unknown downsides — including potentially spurring cyanobacteria to release more toxins as they rupture — and it isn’t cheap, either, running about $500,000 in the case of Lake Kanasatka. Rung, who helped create a $2 million cyanobacteria mitigation fund to support alum treatments across the state, told me it helped with Kanasatka’s treatment and “another alum treatment for a lake in Littleton, New Hampshire, which also had suffered very severe chronic blooms. But then the money ran out.”
But while Kanasatka today is the state’s poster child for algae blooms — it appears healthy two years out from its treatment, although alum only lasts about two or three decades — it wasn’t a one-off, either. During the COVID-19 pandemic, many people moved to New Hampshire’s lakes to work remotely, fertilizing new lawns and cutting down shoreline brush to better enjoy their views in the process. That’s sped up the encroachment of cyanobacteria across one of the country’s healthiest lake systems.
There is another powerful factor driving the blooms, and it is out of New Hampshirites’ hands alone. Climate change supercharges cyanobacteria blooms, with a strong correlation between hotter, sunnier summers and high concentrations of the warm-water-loving, photosynthetic microorganisms. Even more crucially in a state like New Hampshire, milder winters mean fewer weeks of ice cover on its lakes — cover that essentially acts as a “reset” by depriving cyanobacteria of sunlight. And heavier rains and flooding in New Hampshire, phenomena that greater water retention in a warmer atmosphere makes possible, mean greater runoff into the lakes and a firehose of food for the waiting microorganisms.
Unchecked, cyanobacteria pose a threat not just to human and animal life, but to the lives of recreation-based towns and economies. “I know anecdotally that people who have rented a lake house for a week or so, and there’s been a bloom, have been very, very angry,” Rung, the state representative, said. “They’ve tried to get out of that rental and get their money back, and there has not been guidance on what to do. Pretty much, they’re out of luck.”
But political will and funding challenges are real — Rung tried and failed to create a lake-lovers vanity plate to help pay for future mitigation treatments, and a recent deadline to create a task force to identify other funding sources expired with no progress.
“People don’t even want to say the word climate change in New Hampshire,” Rung told me in frustration. “Even the terminology triggers people, but it can’t be ignored. We’re just a small state. We don’t have a big population. We can’t do anything about it. But yet, we’re suffering the consequences.”
On Texas data centers, Microsoft’s carbon removal, and cross-border aluminum
Current conditions: Dangerous degrees of wildfire smoke swept into the Pacific Northwest, leaving air quality in fire-struck Spokane, Washington, at very unhealthy levels through midweek • Yesterday’s thunderstorms across the Northeast grounded flights and delayed thousands of passengers as key airports in New York City, New Jersey, and New England halted incoming arrivals for hours • Temperatures in Abu Dhabi are soaring to nearly 110 degrees Fahrenheit all week.

Europe’s rivers are running dry amid the prolonged drought and third major heat wave this summer. On Monday, the Rhine River’s water levels dropped to their lowest level in nearly 150 years, beaching cargo barges and jeopardizing output from the various thermal power plants that line the waterway stretching through France, Germany, and Switzerland. The water levels at Kaub, a key crossing for vessels heading to southern Germany and Switzerland, fell to 24 centimeters, the lowest level since records started in 1880, according to a Bloomberg analysis of German federal data compiled by the university ETH Zurich. In Eastern Europe, the Danube’s flow is so depleted that just one reactor at Hungary’s only nuclear station, the four-unit Paks plant, is operating — and only at 50% as cooling water dwindles, NucNet reported.
In Washington State, meanwhile, nearly 65,000 people have now been evacuated from the wildfires that incinerated almost 700 homes in the Spokane area with a “wall of flames.” As of Monday evening, the fire was still 0% contained, according to Fox 13 Seattle, a local broadcaster.
You might not think it, given the partisan politics of our age, but the governors of New York and Texas actually have a lot in common. New York Governor Kathy Hochul is a Democrat, and Texas’ Greg Abbott is a Republican. But they’re both pro-nuclear. They’re both up for reelection this year. And they’re both banning data centers, at least temporarily. Last month, New York became the first state to halt permitting on new, large data centers for a year. Now Texas has put approvals for new data centers on hold until the state’s power regulators and grid managers can audit existing facilities that are seeking to connect to the state’s grid. Until then, E&E News reported, “no more additional data centers can be approved or move forward until that process is over.” In a letter to both the Public Utility Commission of Texas and the Electric Reliability Council of Texas, Abbott wrote: “Any project that fails to comply with the requirements set forth by the PUC and ERCOT, and by state law, must be denied connection to the Texas grid. Simply put, Texans must come first.” On the local level, moratoriums on data centers blossomed in recent months, with more than 530 municipalities having slapped new restrictions on server farms, per a recent Heatmap analysis my colleague Robinson Meyer wrote.
Hochul, as our colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote later last month, is “walking a fine line” with her moratorium, issued via executive order, especially as her administration seeks to appease renewables boosters who say she isn’t doing enough to speed up deployments of that kind of infrastructure. But blocking disfavored types of infrastructure is nothing new for the Texas GOP. Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick is among the big names now trying to thwart a $33 billion transmission buildout in the state.
Back in April, Rob broke news that Microsoft was pausing its carbon removal purchases. The break marked a major setback for a nascent industry that had come to rely on the tech giant as its biggest and deepest-pocketed source of demand. While the company never confirmed the pause, it appears to be ending. Last night, my colleague Emily Pontecorvo passed along a big exclusive for this newsletter: Microsoft is set to announce a big carbon removal purchase. CREW Carbon, the Brooklyn-based startup that permanently traps carbon dioxide using a limestone and wastewater mix, inked an offtake agreement with Microsoft for 23,602 “durable, verified” credits. CREW “uses strategically-sourced alkaline minerals, such as calcium carbonate, to optimize key conditions, like pH and alkalinity, in each wastewater treatment plant’s specific process to minimize the carbon footprint of plant operations,” the company said in a press release shared in advance with Emily.
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As my colleague Katie Brigham reported last week, Commonwealth Fusion Systems made waves in the clean energy financing world for yet again raising an eye-popping $1 billion to commercialize fusion energy, notably bringing on institutional investors for the first time. Now another fission startup is bringing in a similar chunk of coin. California-based Valar Atomics just pulled in $1 billion to help bring its next-generation high-temperature gas-cooled microreactors to market. The venture capital giant Sequoia led the round, and added the firm’s Shaun Maguire to its board.
Even with progress on nuclear, the future for gas continues to look rosy. On Monday, Utility Dive reported that American Electric Power now has 13 gigawatts of gas turbine capacity in the pipeline.
Zerluma, a Mexican aluminum recycler, has broken ground on a new $50 million facility in Mission, Texas, the San Antonio Business Journal reported. The deal in the city near Texas’ southern border, marks one of the largest private investments in the city’s history, according to the Rio Grande Valley Business Journal.
The agreement comes as the Trump administration seeks to support the opening of the first new American aluminum smelter in half a century, a project that — as you may recall — has attracted scrutiny from state Republicans in Oklahoma. The effort is facing yet more criticism. The Muscogee Nation’s National Council voted unanimously to approve a resolution opposing aluminum smelters on tribal land following the Trump-backed proposal for a $4 billion plant by Emirates Global Aluminum. Last month, city leaders in Port of Inola approved a 60-day moratorium on smelter-related construction, according to the Tulsa broadcaster News On 6.
The United Kingdom has a coke problem: The snortable white stuff is too good and too cheap. So, what is a criminal enterprise that needs something tradeable of high value to do? Well, increasingly, they’re going for gold. Illegal gold mining has replaced cocaine as organized crime’s most profitable business, according to Mining.com. That has grave implications for human rights — and for communities in places such as the Amazon.