Cheyenne, along with its residents, is set to start construction in a small city in Wyoming, where a data center—mysteriously unclaimed but quite costly—will be built. This facility is projected to consume double the amount of power currently generated in Wyoming. Without significant recycling efforts and efficiency measures, the data center could use around 124 billion gallons of water annually.
Given the ongoing water shortages and ranching rights issues, it’s not surprising that locals are concerned about how this impacts the region.
Interestingly, Ali Astor’s latest film, “Eddington,” weaves a narrative that reflects these circumstances. Set during the pandemic era, the story revolves around the sudden emergence of an enormous, anonymous data center in a small western town.
It’s an uncanny coincidence, isn’t it?
Astor’s film digs into the psychological turmoil experienced during lockdowns and the significant social unrest. It seems, however, that the director uses the data center—much like a character in itself—as a catalyst for broader themes. Just as the average New Mexican character in “Eddington” has little time to grasp the full implications of technological changes, your average resident in Wyoming is also caught up in the whirlwind of transformation driven by technology and government shifts.
The era of terraforming
Data centers are relatively new, but many are already looking to generate their own power. It’s a water-intensive operation which requires a steady supply. Currently, total usage hovers around 560 billion gallons per year. Extrapolating from estimates—like those from the Guardian and the Lawrence Berkeley National Institute—it’s possible that by 2030, these installations might need up to 25 billion gallons annually, comparable to Australia’s yearly consumption.
Social changes accompanying this terraforming are challenging to manage, especially amid uncertainty around immigration and reforms. While increased capital and local wealth might seem beneficial initially, there’s concern that these data-hungry giants have not historically contributed much to local philanthropy. I mean, the push for data centers typically boils down to an incessant need for higher numbers, whether on screens or paper.
But any reshaping of the land comes with local ramifications. Developing such a facility involves rerouting resources and managing energy demands, likely resulting in rising electricity and gas costs for families. For instance, Cheyenne’s data centers depend on Wyoming’s natural gas, which could impact local trade agreements. Anecdotal evidence suggests that a new pipeline might already be in the works between Piedale and Lander.
The forecast predicts close to $10 trillion in investments worldwide for data center construction over the next five years. Notably, companies like X in Tennessee, Meta in Louisiana, and Google in Ohio are all expanding their facilities. The Trump administration previously pledged $500 billion in governmental support for such developments.
Overall, this represents a broader narrative where artificial intelligence continually seeks to escalate numerical figures, reinforcing the existing global power dynamics. The interplay among global elites, described by David Rothkopf as the “Super Class,” is still unfolding.
Artificial horror
When you think of Ali Astor as a creator of thought-provoking horror, what does he convey with the data center theme in “Eddington”? One must also contemplate electromagnetic disturbances tied to this technological growth. The uncertainty and persistent anxiety throughout the pandemic only add to the oddity of our times. We often find ourselves simply trying to support our loved ones, which can be overwhelming.
You might have more faith in the transformative potential of financial incentives and human adaptability than I do, but consider this: the amplified presence of electromagnetism in our rural landscapes is already placing strain on ecosystems, and honestly, it doesn’t sit well with me.
The unseen forces at play are truly intriguing. If you were a skilled director or screenwriter, setting a vast power infrastructure in the American wilderness could lend itself to complex symbolism. Not to mention the haunting significance of having an anonymous owner managing that power. Astor certainly captures this tension effectively.
The true ownership of Cheyenne’s data center remains “unknown,” although local whispers suggest that Sam Altman might be the key figure behind it, potentially as future residents. We’ll see if that pans out.
Even those in the creative fields acknowledge that the scale and repercussions of artificial intelligence remain largely uncharted. We still know little about how it will affect collective happiness, political landscapes, or financial stability. Plus, the ecological sustainability of such projects is up for scrutiny, especially with a colossal government commitment of around $50 trillion on the table. All these layers—what exactly are we sacrificing?
It starts to sound like a premise for a horror film, doesn’t it?
