Jason Treit
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Scooter Executives Head for the Exits as Once Ambitious Technology Companies Falter

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Travis VanderZanden (Photo by Steve Jennings/Getty Images for TechCrunch)

Scooter executives are bailing out.

It’s an experience familiar to many errant scooter riders: you’re barreling toward a red light and you’re tapping the brakes but they aren’t working, so it’s time to jump and let the scooter go flying.

Bird’s CEO and CFO have stepped down. I’ve learned Lime’s CFO is leaving.

Travis VanderZanden — the co-founder of Bird who reportedly cashed out tens of millions worth of stock during the company’s meteoric rise in valuation — has stepped down as the company’s leader. VanderZanden will remain chairman of the company’s board. Shane Torchiana, an obscure former BCG partner who has been at Bird since 2018, is taking over as president and CEO.

Bird’s Chief Financial Officer Yibo Ling — like VanderZanden a former Uber executive — is calling it quits.

Meanwhile, Andrea Ellis, who helped Lime raise $523 million in convertible debt and term loan financing late last year, is leaving Lime, sources told me and the company confirmed.

While Lime is well-capitalized after the debt financing last year, Bird appears to be in real peril. Bird’s market capitalization has fallen to $83.4 million. Embarrassingly, the company is in trouble with the New York Stock Exchange because its share price has fallen below the minimum price of $1.

Bird’s stock closed at $0.35 Thursday and had fallen two cents Friday morning.

As of June, Bird had $57 million in cash and cash equivalents. Meanwhile, the company burned through $47 million in net cash from operating activities in the first six months of the year. It doesn’t take higher level math skills to start to wonder whether Bird’s days are numbered.

Winter is coming. Literally. The scooter business is extremely seasonal.

I wanted to take a moment to eulogize the venture scale scooter business. We’re seeing the full unraveling of the blitz scale, cash-on-fire venture model.

This is probably the end — for this tech cycle at least — of the idea that if only venture capitalists can throw enough money at something, it will become a tech company. With Juicero, WeWork, Zume Pizza, Soylent, and so many others — companies were designated “tech” startups because venture capitalists invested in them. VCs forgot that things were supposed to flow the other way.

I’m not saying scooters are actually dead. Flying car company Kittyhawk — well, that’s dead (or about to be). And there will be many other cash intensive “tech” businesses that bite the dust. Bird could survive, I guess — or sell. Lime could end up being the last man standing — and monopoly pricing could suddenly seem a lot more attractive.

But I feel confident in declaring — after catching up with former scooter employees — that this is not a venture-style business that’s going to reap venture-sized returns.

Lime can’t even bullshit me that they’re profitable. The company told me in a statement that they’re working to “drive closer to profitability.” That’s adjusted EBITDA profits that they’re driving toward. Lime isn’t profitable even if you squint and juke the stats.

“We ran the test and it turns out people don’t ride scooters. That’s just the problem,” one former scooter employee commiserated to me.

Like many ideas that attract hordes of venture capital dollars, the intuition was compelling: cheaper batteries and Chinese manufacturing paired with cellphones could make scooters a better, more sustainable business model than ride sharing. It actually seemed good for the world.

One Bird investor tried to explain the early hype. Investors had salivated over Bird’s top-line growth, this person explained to me. “I do have a note that their weekly run rate (granted it is a highly seasonal business) was over $300m. Just sharing this because if you just followed the top line numbers (not the economics) it would make it one of the fastest consumer revenue stories in venture history. (And plenty of other investments like YouTube were wildly unprofitable and had tremendous product/market fit as well that did work out). Even Google — one of the fastest growing consumer businesses ever didn’t come out this hot.”

Valuations soared. Announced in February 2018, David Sacks led the Series A at Craft which valued Bird at $60 million post-money. Sequoia led a $150 million Series C investment in Bird that valued it at $1 billion in 2018 and then led another $158 million round that valued Bird at $2.1 billion, according to Pitchbook. It was a major investment for Roelof Botha who would go on to become Sequoia’s senior steward.

Sequoia had missed out on Uber. In 2018 Uber was going public, valued at $82 billion in the IPO. This was a chance to get it right the second time.

Uber wasn’t as big of a miss as Sequoia might have thought — it’s worth $57 billion today. Bird is worth $83.4 million.

Lime is a similar story. Uber has poured hundreds of millions into the company. GV led a $330 million round in 2018 that valued Lime at $1.1 billion. Since Lime is still a private company, we don’t know what it’s worth today.

“It was the beginning of that pure VC ‘herd mentality’ period,” remembers someone from the on-demand world. “Almost everyone was trying to tell everyone over and over the economics didn’t make any sense, but no reason for anyone to listen.”

Why did scooters fail to live up to the hype?

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68 days ago
RIP my only means of conveyance
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Bros., Lecce: We Eat at The Worst Michelin Starred Restaurant, Ever

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There is something to be said about a truly disastrous meal, a meal forever indelible in your memory because it’s so uniquely bad, it can only be deemed an achievement. The sort of meal where everyone involved was definitely trying to do something; it’s just not entirely clear what.

I’m not talking about a meal that’s poorly cooked, or a server who might be planning your murder—that sort of thing happens in the fat lump of the bell curve of bad. Instead, I’m talking about the long tail stuff – the sort of meals that make you feel as though the fabric of reality is unraveling. The ones that cause you to reassess the fundamentals of capitalism, and whether or not you’re living in a simulation in which someone failed to properly program this particular restaurant. The ones where you just know somebody’s going to lift a metal dome off a tray and reveal a single blue or red pill.

I’m talking about those meals.

At some point, the only way to regard that sort of experience—without going mad—is as some sort of community improv theater. You sit in the audience, shouting suggestions like, “A restaurant!” and “Eating something that resembles food” and “The exchange of money for goods, and in this instance the goods are a goddamn meal!” All of these suggestion go completely ignored.

That is how I’ve come to regard our dinner at Bros, Lecce’s only Michelin-starred restaurant, as a means of preserving what’s left of my sanity. It wasn’t dinner. It was just dinner theater.

No, scratch that. Because dinner was not involved. I mean—dinner played a role, the same way Godot played a role in Beckett’s eponymous play. The entire evening was about it, and guess what? IT NEVER SHOWED.

Rand holding up one of the courses – a paper-thin fish cracker – in its entirety.

So no, we can’t call it dinner theater. Instead, we will say it was just theater.

Very, very expensive theater.

I realize that not everyone is willing or able to afford a ticket to Waiting for Gateau and so this post exists, to spare you our torment. We had plenty of beautiful meals in Lecce that were not this one, and if you want a lovely meal out, I’ll compile a list shortly.

But for now, let us rehash whatever the hell this was.

We headed to the restaurant with high hopes – eight of us in total, led into a cement cell of a room, Drake pumping through invisible speakers. It was sweltering hot, and no other customers were present. The décor had the of chicness of an underground bunker where one would expect to be interrogated for the disappearance of an ambassador’s child.

Earlier that day, we’d seen a statue of a bear, chiseled into marble centuries ago, by someone who had never actually seen a bear. This is the result:

And this is a perfect allegory for our evening. It’s as though someone had read about food and restaurants, but had never experienced either, and this was their attempt to recreate it.

What followed was a 27-course meal (note that “course” and “meal” and “27” are being used liberally here) which spanned 4.5 hours and made me feel like I was a character in a Dickensian novel. Because – I cannot impart this enough – there was nothing even close to an actual meal served. Some “courses” were slivers of edible paper. Some shots were glasses of vinegar. Everything tasted like fish, even the non-fish courses. And nearly everything, including these noodles, which was by far the most substantial dish we had, was served cold.

I’ve added the bread plate for scale. This was the largest course of the 27 (We got six noodles and one piece of bread each).

Amassing two-dozen of them together amounted to a meal the same way amassing two-dozen toddlers together amounts to one middle-aged adult.

A course for *two* people at Bros.

I’ve checked Trip Advisor. Other people who’ve eaten at Bros were served food. Some of them got meat, and ravioli, and more than one slice of bread. Some of them were served things that needed to be eaten with forks and spoons.

We got a tablespoon of crab.

This was a main course. It’s about a tablespoon of food.

I’ve tried to come up with hypotheses for what happened. Maybe the staff just ran out of food that night. Maybe they confused our table with that of their ex-lover’s. Maybe they were drunk. But we got twelve kinds of foam, something that I can only describe as “an oyster loaf that tasted like Newark airport”, and a teaspoon of savory ice cream that was olive flavored.

A sliver of oyster loaf with foam. David’s face here says more than I ever can.


Teaspoon of olive ice cream.

I’m still not over that, to be honest. I thought it was going to be pistachio.

There is no menu at Bros. Just a blank newspaper with a QR code linking to a video featuring one of the chefs, presumably, against a black background, talking directly into the camera about things entirely unrelated to food. He occasionally used the proper noun of the restaurant as an adverb, the way a Smurf would. This means that you can’t order anything besides the tasting menu, but also that you are at the mercy of the servers to explain to you what the hell is going on.

The servers will not explain to you what the hell is going on.

Rand tries to figure out what part of this dish is edible.

He cannot.

They will not do this in Italian. They will not do this in English. They will not play Pictionary with you on the blank newspaper as a means of communicating what you are eating. On the rare occasion where they did offer an explanation for a dish, it did not help.

“These are made with rancid ricotta,” the server said, a tiny fried cheese ball in front of each of us.

“I’m… I’m sorry, did you say rancid? You mean… fermented? Aged?”

“No. Rancid.”

“Okay,” I said in Italian. “But I think that something might be lost in translation. Because it can’t be-”

“Rancido,” he clarified.

Another course – a citrus foam – was served in a plaster cast of the chef’s mouth. Absent utensils, we were told to lick it out of the chef’s mouth in a scene that I’m pretty sure was stolen from an eastern European horror film.

For reasons that could fill an entire volume of TimeLife Mysteries of the Unknown, THIS ITEM IS AVAILABLE FOR SALE AT THEIR GIFTSHOP. In case you want to have a restraining order filed against you this holiday season.

Now, at this point, I may have started quietly freaking out. A hierarchical pecking order was being established, and when you’re the one desperately slurping sustenance out of the plaster cast of someone else’s mouth, it’s safe to say you are at the bottom of that pyramid. We’d been beaten into some sort of weird psychological submission. Like the Stanford Prison Experiment but with less prison and more aspic. That’s the only reason I have for why we didn’t leave during any of these incidents:

  • When a member of our party stood up during the lengthy stretch between courses to go have a cigarette outside, and was scolded to sit down.
  • When one member of our party was served nothing for three consecutive courses, because they couldn’t figure out how to accommodate her food allergies.
  • When Rand was served food he was allergic to, repeatedly, because they didn’t care enough to accommodate his.
  • When a server reprimanded me for eating. These reconstituted orange slices (one per person) were a course. I asked if I could eat the real orange that had been served alongside it (we’d all gotten one, and I, at this point, was extremely hungry). “Yes,” the server said, annoyed. “But you aren’t really supposed to.” He let me have two segments and then whisked the fruit away.

No, we just sat there while the food was portioned out a teaspoon at a time, a persistent and sustained sort of agony, like slowly peeling off a band-aid. That’s the problem with a tasting menu. With so many courses, you just assume things are going to turn around. Every dish is a chance for redemption. Maybe this meal was like Nic Cage’s career – you have to wait a really long time for the good stuff, but there is good stuff.

BUT NO. We kept waiting for someone to bring us something – anything! – that resembled dinner. Until the exact moment when we realized: it would never come. It was when our friend Lisa tried to order another bottle of wine.

“Would you like red or white?” the server asked.

“What are we having for the main?” she inquired.

His face blanched.

“The… main, madame? Um… we’re about to move on to dessert.”

We sat for a moment, letting this truth settle over us. Because by now it had been hours, and at no point had we been served anything that could be considered dinner. (There was one time when I thought it might happen – the staff placed dishes in front of us, and then swirled sauces on the dishes, and I clapped my hands, excitedly waiting for something to be plated atop those beautiful sauces. Instead, someone came by with an eyedropper and squirted drops of gelee onto our plates).

The meat droplet course.

“We’ve infused these droplets with meat molecules,” the server explained, and left.

I don’t know if our experience was the norm. I’ve looked TripAdvisor’s photo for Bros, and other people who’ve gone there seem to have been fed actual food. Like, even this person, who was served the same weird meat droplet course, at least got it with a triangle of foamy-looking bread. Do you know what it’s like to envy someone for a piece of foamy looking bread? IT’S NOT GREAT.

“There’s no … main?” Lisa said to us in disbelief after the server had retreated.

“Hey,” I said, my hand resting on her arm. She was shaking slightly from low blood sugar. “It’s okay.”

“They haven’t fucking fed us,” she said, her eyes wide.

“I know, I know,” I said, “But look. We’re in this amazing country. And I don’t know about you, but nothing is going to stop me from enjoying tonight.”

She nodded.

“Because I’m surrounded by my favorite people,” I said, and I squeezed Lisa’s hand for emphasis, “and I’m at my favorite restaurant.”

Lisa sputtered laughing. No more food was coming, but there was something freeing in that. Because this meal had never been about us to begin with. It sure as hell wasn’t about the food. And there is something glorious about finally giving up.

We sat through a few more courses including a marshmallow flavored like cuttlefish, and a dish called “frozen air” which literally melted before you could eat it, which felt like a goddamn metaphor for the night.

And then someone came in and demanded we stand and exit the restaurant. Thinking we were getting kicked out, we gleefully followed. Instead, we were led across the street, to a dark doorway and into the Bros laboratory. A video of the shirtless kitchen staff doing extreme sports played on a large screen TV while a chef cut us comically tiny slivers of fake cheese.

Rand was, of course, allergic to it.

The bill arrived. The meal cost more than any other we’d eat during our trip by a magnitude of three. They’d given us balloons with the restaurant’s name across it and the chef emerged and insisted on posing with us for a Polaroid that we did not ask for. We were finally released into the night, after every other restaurant had closed, ensuring that no food would be consumed that evening.

“That was abhorrent,” we all agreed as we shoved the balloons into a dumpster (I’d made everyone take one, with the baffling logic that they’d somehow help offset the cost of the meal). We howled at how ridiculous it was, and how they’d poisoned Rand. How maybe we should have known that a restaurant named “Bros” was going to be a disaster.

It was like an awful show that we had front row tickets to. But wasn’t there something glorious about sharing it together, the way that a terrible experience makes you all closer?

“No,” someone said, and we laughed even harder.


P.S. – The next day, one of the staff tried contacting the only single female member of our party via Instagram messages. “Hey, I served you last night!” he wrote. She immediately blocked him.


Bros., Via degli Acaya, 2, 73100 Lecce LE, Italy

Cost: a rather mortifying 130-200 Euros per person

Note: the TripAdvisor reviews show a lot of elaborate courses, and these were all way, way more food than anything we ate. I cannot express to you how little we were fed, and I’m not a particularly big eater. Allergy and dietary restrictions were largely ignored.

Recommendation: Do not eat here. I cannot express this enough. This was single-handedly one of the worse wastes of money in my entire food and travel writing career bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha oh my god

The post Bros., Lecce: We Eat at The Worst Michelin Starred Restaurant, Ever appeared first on The Everywhereist.

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357 days ago
"Some shots were glasses of vinegar."
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The state of next-generation geothermal energy


What would we do with abundant energy? I dream of virtually unlimited, clean, dirt-cheap energy, but lately, we have been going in the wrong direction. As J. Storrs Hall notes, in 1978 and 1979, American per capita primary energy consumption peaked at 12 kW. In 2019, we used 10.2 kW of primary energy (and in 2020, we used 9.4 kW, a figure skewed by the pandemic economy). We are doing more with less, squeezing out more value per joule than ever before. But why settle for energy efficiency alone? With many more joules, we could create much more value and live richer lives.

A benefit of climate change is that lots of smart people are rethinking energy, but I fear they aren’t going far enough. If we want not just to replace current energy consumption with low-carbon sources, but also to, say, increase global energy output by an order of magnitude, we need to look beyond wind and solar. Nuclear fission would be an excellent option if it were not so mired in regulatory obstacles. Fusion could do it, but it still needs a lot of work. Next-generation geothermal could have the right mix of policy support, technology readiness, and resource size to make a big contribution to abundant clean energy in the near future.

Let’s talk about resource size first. Stanford’s Global Climate and Energy Project estimates crustal thermal energy reserves at 15 million zetajoules. Coal + oil + gas + methane hydrates amount to 630 zetajoules. That means there is 23,800 times as much geothermal energy in Earth’s crust as there is chemical energy in fossil fuels everywhere on the planet. Combining the planet’s reserves of uranium, seawater uranium, lithium, thorium, and fossil fuels yields 365,030 zetajoules. There is 41 times as much crustal thermal energy than energy in all those sources combined. (Total heat content of the planet, including the mantle and the core, is about three orders of magnitude higher still.)

Although today’s geothermal energy is only harvested from spots where geothermal steam has made itself available at the surface, with some creative subsurface engineering it could be produced everywhere on the planet. Like nuclear energy, geothermal runs 24/7, so it helps solve the intermittency problem posed by wind and solar. Unlike nuclear energy, it is not highly regulated, which means it could be cheap in practice as well as in theory.

At a high level, the four main next-generation geothermal concepts I will discuss do the same thing. They (1) locate and access heat, (2) transfer subsurface heat to a working fluid and bring it to the surface, and (3) exploit the heat energy at the surface through direct use or conversion to electricity. It is the second step, transferring subsurface heat to a working fluid, that is non-obvious.

What is the right working fluid? What is the best way to physically transfer the heat? Given drilling costs, what is the right target rock temperature for heat transfer? These questions are still unresolved. Different answers will give you a different technical approach. Let’s talk about the four different concepts people are working on right now, including their strengths and weaknesses, before turning to the bottlenecks in the industry.

Concept #1: Enhanced geothermal systems

Like today’s conventional geothermal (“hydrothermal”) systems, enhanced geothermal systems (EGS) feature one or more injection wells where water goes into the ground, and one or more production wells where steam comes out of the ground. Hydrothermal systems today not only need heat resources close to the surface, they require the right kind of geology in the near subsurface. The rock between the injection and production wells needs to be permeable so that the water can flow through it and acquire heat energy. The rock above that layer needs to be impermeable, so that steam doesn’t escape to the surface except through the production wells.

EGS starts with the premise of using drilling technology to access deeper heat resources. This makes it viable in more places than hydrothermal, which relies on visual evidence of heat at the surface for project siting. If you see a volcano or a geyser or a fumarole, that might be a good location for a conventional hydrothermal project. But there are only a limited number of such sites, and if we want to expand the geographic availability of geothermal we have to use deeper wells to access heat sources that are further below ground.

Once we have our deeper wells, we need a way for water to flow between them. Fortunately, since 2005, petroleum engineers have gotten good at making underground fracture networks. By using modified versions of the fracking perfected in the shale fields, geothermal engineers can create paths of tiny cracks through which water can flow between the two wells. This fracture network has a lot of surface area, which means it is relatively good for imparting heat energy to the water.

EGS has some advantages over the other next-generation geothermal concepts. From a technical perspective, it is not a big leap from existing hydrothermal practice, so the technology risk is low. In addition, the high surface area of the hot underground fracture network is good for creating steam.

Yet today’s EGS also has a disadvantage relative to the other approaches. Because the system has an open reservoir exposed to the subsurface, most EGS projects plan to use water as a working fluid. Water does not become supercritical until it reaches 374ºC (and 22 MPa). Using today’s drilling technology, EGS projects usually will not reach these temperatures, because it costs too much to drill to the required depths. Fluids in their supercritical states have higher enthalpy than in their subcritical states, so depth limitations mean EGS can’t bring as much heat energy to the surface as it could if it had access to a supercritical fluid.

Even so, EGS is promising. This year, Fervo raised a $28M Series B to pursue this approach. It also signed a deal with Google to power some of its data centers, part of the search giant’s plan to move to 100% zero-carbon energy by 2030.

Concept #2: Closed-loop geothermal systems

Imagine that, like EGS, you had an injection and a production well, but instead of relying on a network of fractures in the open subsurface to connect them, you simply connected the two wells with a pipe. The working fluid would flow down the injection well, horizontally through a lateral segment of pipe, and then up through the production well. Because such a system is closed to the subsurface, it is called a closed-loop system.

Relative to EGS, closed-loop systems have both advantages and disadvantages. A key advantage is that the working fluid can easily be something other than water. Isobutane has a critical temperature of 134.6ºC, and CO2’s is only 31.0ºC. Even with today’s drilling technology, we can reach these temperatures almost everywhere on the planet. Closed-loop systems offer the higher enthalpy associated with supercritical fluids at depths we can reach today. In addition, closed-loop systems work no matter the underlying geology, removing a risk that EGS projects face.

The big disadvantage of closed-loop systems is that pipes have much lower surface areas than fracture networks. Since heat is imparted to the working fluid by surface contact, this limits the rate at which the system can acquire energy. A solution to this is to use not just one horizontal segment, but many, like the radiator-style designs shown below. These segments can be numerous and long enough to ensure adequate heat transfer.

The problem remains, however, that these radiator-style segments are expensive to drill with today’s technology. It is possible that with experience and better drilling techniques the cost could be reduced to make this approach viable. Closed-loop startup Eavor is pursuing this approach, starting with a project in Germany taking advantage of that country’s generous geothermal subsidies.

Concept #3: Heat roots

What if you could combine the advantages of closed loops—like the ability to use a supercritical working fluid—with a way to capture the heat from a much larger surface area than that of a simple pipe? That’s the goal of Sage Geosystems’s Heat Roots concept.

Sage starts with a single vertical shaft. From the base of the shaft, they frack downwards to create a fracture pattern that gives the impression of a root system for a tree. They fill this “root” system with a convective and conductive fluid. Then, using a pipe-in-pipe system, they circulate a separate working fluid from the surface to the base of the shaft and back. At the base of the shaft, a heat exchanger takes the energy concentrated by the heat root system and imparts it to the working fluid.

This “heat roots” approach enables a lot of the benefits of closed-loop systems, like the ability to use supercritical fluids, without the main drawback of needing long horizontal pipe segments. The roots draw in and concentrate heat from greater depths than the primary shaft. In other words, closed-loop’s problem of limited surface area is solved by doing additional subsurface engineering outside of the closed loop.

A disadvantage of a monobore, pipe-in-pipe design is the limited flow rate of working fluid. In the oil and gas industry, the widest standard well diameter is 9⅝ inches. It would be non-trivial to go wider than that—you would need special drilling equipment and new casing systems. The power output of the entire system is directly proportional to the flow rate, so the monobore heat roots design is constrained in this way.

This may or may not be a problem. If the cost of constructing each individual well is low enough, then the solution would be to stamp out hundreds of thousands of these wells. What matters is the cost per watt and that the design is reproducible. It may be possible to make these or similar wells work almost anywhere by simply drilling deeply enough, although that is not yet proven.

Sage raised a Series A earlier this year and is currently working on a demonstration well in Texas. “Once we get through a successful pilot these next few months,” says Sage CTO Lance Cook, “we are off to the races.” In addition to its heat roots design, it is also studying a few other configurations.

Concept #4: Supercritical EGS

What if we had much better drilling technology? Put aside the fancy stuff, like horizontal segments—what if we could simply drill straight down into the earth much deeper and faster and cheaper than we can today?

This one capability would unlock a huge increase in geothermal power density. With depth comes higher temperatures. If we could cheaply and reliably access temperatures around 500ºC, we could make water go supercritical. This would unleash a step-change in enthalpy, without the closed loops otherwise needed for supercritical fluids. By doing EGS (concept #1) in these hotter conditions, we could get the biggest benefit of EGS—a high surface area to use to transfer heat—with one of the biggest benefits of closed-loop systems—the use of a supercritical working fluid. In addition to higher enthalpy, supercritical steam will produce higher electrical output in virtue of a higher delta-T in the generator cycle. Output of the cycle is directly proportional to the temperature differential between the steam and ambient conditions.

The benefits of producing supercritical steam at the surface go beyond these physics-based arguments. A huge potential advantage would be the ability to retrofit existing coal plants. With many coal plants shutting down in the next several years, a lot of valuable generator equipment could be lying around idle. These generators take supercritical steam as an input and use it to produce electricity. The generators don’t care whether the steam comes from a boiler fired with coal or from 15 km underground. Piping steam from a geothermal production well straight into a coal plant turbine would allow the power plant to produce the same amount of electricity as it did under coal, except with no fuel costs and no carbon emissions.

Even if free generating equipment isn’t just lying around, supercritical geothermal steam could significantly increase the output and decrease the cost of geothermal electricity. The question is whether we can achieve the necessary cost reductions in ultra-deep drilling. Rotary drill bits struggle against hard basement rock. They break and then have to be retrieved to the surface, where they are repaired and sent back downhole. This process is time-consuming and expensive. Non-rotary drilling technologies like water hammers, lasers, plasma cutters, and mm-wave directed energy have all been proposed as ways to let us drill deeper faster. By optimizing for hot, dense, hard basement rock, we could drill much deeper than we can today.

The big downside of supercritical EGS is that these advanced drilling technologies haven’t been proven yet. The big advantage is what it could enable: high-density geothermal energy anywhere on the planet. Literally every location on the planet can produce supercritical steam if you drill deep enough into the basement rock—you may have to drill 20 km to reach 500ºC temperatures in some spots, but it’s there.

Quaise is an example of a company pursuing this supercritical EGS approach. The gyrotrons used in fusion experiments produce enough energy to vaporize granite. Quaise is commercializing mm-wave directed energy technology out of MIT’s Plasma Science and Fusion Center.

Policy is suboptimal but not a deal-breaker

Unlike nuclear fission, which is regulated to near-oblivion, geothermal faces relatively few policy obstacles. I will highlight two areas where policy could easily be improved, but even if these problems are not fixed, they will likely only slow, not stop, maturation of the next-generation geothermal industry.

The first issue involves permitting. While our goal for this technology should be to enable geothermal anywhere on the planet, the natural starting point for working down the learning curve is in areas where high temperatures are closest to the surface. If you look at a map of temperature at depth in the United States, you will notice that the best spots for geothermal drilling overlap considerably with land owned by Uncle Sam.

Drilling on federal lands involves federal permitting—which involves environmental review. Environmental review, mandated by the National Environmental Policy Act any time a federal agency takes a major action that could affect the environment, can take years.

Conveniently, the oil and gas industry got themselves an exclusion from these requirements. The effects of drilling an oil and gas well on federal lands are rebuttably presumed to be insignificant, as long as certain limitations apply—for example, the surface disturbance of the well is less than 5 acres. Oil and gas wells are very similar to geothermal wells, so it makes sense that they would have very similar environmental impacts. As I have written for CGO, simply extending oil and gas’s categorical exclusion to geothermal energy is an absolute no-brainer.

This permitting issue shows that the nearly non-existent geothermal lobby is (surprise!) less effective than the oil and gas lobby. It may also be less effective than the wind and solar lobbies. Geothermal execs have complained that tax subsidies for geothermal are lower than for wind and solar. I am no tax expert, but if I am reading Section 48 of the tax code correctly, there is a 30% tax credit for utility-scale solar and only a 10% credit for a geothermal plant—that’s a big disparity. (There is also a 30% tax credit for investing in a facility to produce geothermal equipment and a 10-year 1.5¢-per-kWh subsidy for geothermal plants that break ground in 2021. [Update: It’s actually a 2.5¢/kWh subsidy because there is mandatory inflation adjustment and the basis is 1992. Hat tip: SW]).

Neither permitting barriers nor inadequate subsidization are likely to hold back geothermal forever. There are ways, however inconvenient, around the permitting obstacles, like operating on private lands. An unfavorable subsidy environment relative to solar might mean a slower start as financiers dip their toes into geothermal waters more gradually, or it might mean that projects move to Germany, where geothermal feed-in tariffs are quite generous. Even if they aren’t dealbreakers, we ought to fix these policy mistakes so that we can reap the benefits of abundant geothermal energy sooner rather than later.

Technologies that could accelerate deployment

Although some of the geothermal concepts I discussed above will work using today’s technology, there remains R&D to be done to unlock the others, and there are advances to be made that would help all players.

The first area where technical development is needed is in resource characterization—the ability to predict where the heat is in the subsurface and what geology surrounds it. Better predictions reduce project risk and reduce up-front exploration costs. Imagine you are drilling a geothermal well and it is not as hot as you expected it to be. Do you keep drilling and go deeper? Do you give up and drill somewhere else? Either way, it’s expensive. With more accurate predictions, we can keep these cost surprises under better control.

Machine learning is one possible way to crack resource characterization. The National Renewable Energy Laboratory has laid some good groundwork on machine learning and geothermal resources, and a startup called Zanskar is using what appears to be a similar approach. In addition to ML, bigger and more granular data sets as well as new sensor packages that could shed more light on subsurface conditions would be helpful.

Next: we need to harden rotary drill bits and other downhole equipment for geothermal conditions. Geothermal drilling involves higher temperature, pressure, vibration, and shock than oil and gas drilling. Since oil and gas represents the lion’s share of the drilling business, today’s bits aren’t optimized for geothermal conditions. A modern bottom hole assembly includes a drill bit and also equipment for electricity generation, energy storage, communication and telemetry, and monitoring and sensing. It’s a lot of electronics.

Fortunately, NASA and others in the space industry are already working on suitable high-temperature electronics. To land a rover on a planet like Venus or Mercury, or to send a probe into the atmosphere of a gas giant like Jupiter, we need motors, sensors, processors, and memory that will not fail soon after they encounter high heat and pressure. Venus’s average surface condition is 475ºC and 90 Earth atmospheres—if it works on Venus, it will work in all but the most demanding geothermal applications.

Third: we need to mature non-rotary drilling technologies. While polycrystalline diamond compact drill bits are now enabling next-generation geothermal applications for the first time, non-rotary concepts could allow us to cost-effectively go deeper through even harder rock. Non-rotary drilling concepts include water hammers, plasma bits, lasers, mm-wave, and even a highly speculative tungsten quasi-“rods from God” idea from Danny Hillis.

Fourth: technologies to support the use of supercritical fluids. Turbines need to be specially designed for supercritical fluids. While turbines already exist for supercritical water, new designs are necessary for lower-temperature fluids like supercritical CO2. In addition, supercritical fluids tend to be more corrosive than their subcritical counterparts, as well as under higher pressure, and so new coatings and casings may be needed to contain them in the subsurface.

There are other possible improvements, but if we can solve several of the above issues, my expectation is that we would generate a robust and self-sustaining industry that can self-fund the further development needed to make next-generation geothermal energy an absolute game-changer.

What’s next?

In an industry ruled by learning curves, what matters most is gaining experience in the field. We need all the companies working on innovative geothermal concepts to drill their demo wells and learn from them, so that they can move on to full-size wells and learn from those, so that they can operate at scale and learn from doing that, so that they can drive down costs (eventually) to almost nothing.

The rest of us should help them.

I have argued that the policy barriers, especially relative to fission, are not dealbreakers. But I continue to work to find policy solutions, because even non-dealbreaker problems can slow down progress. Policymakers who read this and want to learn more are welcome to reach out to me.

Adam Marblestone and Sam Rodriques have proposed Focused Research Organizations to tackle technological development problems not suited for either a startup, an academic team, or a national lab. Often, these problems arise when there is a high degree of coordinated system-building required and when the solutions are not immediately or directly monetizable. Some of the technology problems I described above, like producing a comprehensive dataset of subsurface conditions, developing temperature-hardened drilling equipment, or building systems to support supercritical fluids, may fit that bill. A geothermal-focused FRO supported by $50–100 million over the next 10 years could significantly accelerate progress.

If you want to learn more about progress in geothermal, I highly recommend registering for the upcoming PIVOT2021 conference, being held virtually July 19–23. It’s a comprehensive overview of the entire industry, and totally free. Yours truly is moderating the panel on regulatory and permitting challenges.

If we play our cards right, human civilization could soon have access to a virtually inexhaustible supply of cheap and clean energy. Shouldn’t we pull out all the stops to get there?

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509 days ago
Washington, DC
510 days ago
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The Terrestrial Status of Boston


The terrestrial status of Boston is an unexpectedly fascinating topic. A city built on land rescued from the sea, it is not only unusually at risk from sea-level rise; it also hides parts of its marshy past beneath its streets and buildings.

As a project by the Norman B. Leventhal Map & Education Center recently wrote, “No city in the U.S. has a more striking history of landmaking than Boston, with about a sixth of its present land area sitting on estuaries, mudflats, coves, and tidal basins that would have been submerged at high tide prior to the seventeenth century. Mapping the growth of the city into the surrounding ocean has been an interest of Boston’s geographers for centuries, and our modern maps of shoreline change are some of the most popular objects in our digital collections.”

[Image: Boston, courtesy of the Norman B. Leventhal Map & Education Center.]

Indeed, the Wall Street Journal explained last year, some of Boston’s most expensive houses are more like docks or wharves, sitting atop wooden pilings driven deep into flooded ground. In one specific case, “the underground wooden pilings supporting the foundation had been rotting for years, to the point where the building’s walls were ‘almost floating,’ [the home’s owner] recalled.”

Recall the the incredible story of William Walker, a diver who “saved” Winchester Cathedral in England by diving beneath it for a period of six years, repairing its aquatic foundations from below. “When huge cracks started to appear in the early 1900s,” we read, “the Cathedral seemed in danger of complete collapse. Early efforts to underpin its waterlogged foundations failed until William Walker, a deep-sea diver, worked under water every day for six years placing bags of concrete.”

Ben Affleck’s next movie, perhaps—scuba diving beneath the streets of Boston and saving the city from below…

While the bulk of the Leventhal Center’s project focuses on the economic value of reclaimed land in the Boston area—what they call “the ultimate financial asset: brand-new urban land, ready for development”—there is at least one amazing detail I wanted to post here.

Like buried ships in New York City and San Francisco, Boston has its own maritime archaeology: “Sophisticated networks of fish weirs can still be found buried beneath the streets of the [Back Bay] neighborhood, which were laid out in a tidily gridded pattern in the nineteenth century to facilitate the engrossment and sale of property.” Indigenous hydrological infrastructure, hiding in plain sight.

Writing just today, meanwhile, in an op-ed for WBUR, Courtney Humphries suggests that, ironically, Boston’s future survival might depend on doing more of what got it into trouble with the sea in the first place: building more land and further modifying the shoreline.

What future weirs and dams and levees and pilings, architectural anchorages all, might we see beneath the streets of Boston, a city halfway between terrestrial and maritime, ground and ocean, bedrock and marsh, in the years to come?

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530 days ago
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Eli Dourado - Frontiers for Productivity - [Invest Like the Best, EP. 225]

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My guest today is Eli Dourado, economist and senior research fellow at the Center for Growth and Opportunity at Utah State University. In our discussion, we touch on the ongoing stagnation in labor productivity, the system constraints, and some of the innovative technologies that could reverse this trend. While Eli identifies as an economist, his wealth of knowledge on biotech innovation, alternative energy, and the space opportunity are sure to leave you craving more. I hope you enjoy my conversation with Eli. 


For the full show notes, transcript, and links to mentioned content, check out the episode page here.


This episode is brought to you by Canalyst. Canalyst is the leading destination for public company data and analysis. If you've been scrambling to keep up with the deluge of IPOs and SPACs these days, Canalyst has models on Coinbase, Roblox, Qualtrics, and everything in between. Learn more and try Canalyst for yourself at canalyst.com/patrick.


This episode is brought to you by MIT Investment Management Company – MITIMCo, the endowment office of MIT. MITIMCo seeks to find people who are focused on achieving exceptional long-term investment returns, partner with these firms early, and stick around for the very long term. 


MITIMCo is also searching for an exceptional new teammate to join their internal investment team. Visit mitimco.org to learn more – click “Join” to learn more about the Global Investor Role on MITIMCo’s team or and click “Emerging Managers” to learn more about their emerging manager activities.


Invest Like the Best is a property of Colossus, Inc. For more episodes of Invest Like the Best, visit joincolossus.com/episodes


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Follow us on Twitter: @patrick_oshag | @JoinColossus


Show Notes

[00:03:28] - [First question] - Why he’s interested the great stagnation

[00:05:41] - Is a fair analog for total factor productivity technology?

[00:07:29] - Leading theories for the stagnation in TFP

[00:09:05] - Analysis of why growth is good, and stagnation is bad

[00:10:19] - Rate limiters that are a key part of calculating stagnation

[00:11:43] - Signs that we may be returning to a higher degree of TFP returning

[00:12:24] - Exciting developments like MRNA in biotech that may lead to an explosion of innovation

[00:16:16] - Functions of a protein and their role in advances in biotech

[00:17:55] - What CRISPR is and what it unlocks for the future of humanity

[00:19:31] - The pace of progression when rolling our clinical trials of cellular engineering

[00:21:36] - How biotech may play a role in TFP as a proxy for progress and growth

[00:22:51] - Interesting observations about potential innovation in the energy sector

[00:24:10] - What currently requires energy that could be optimized if they had a lower energy cost

[00:25:34] - Sources that could provide cheaper and more efficient energy

[00:27:13] - Sage Geosystems and the future of the geothermal space

[00:27:43] - The importance of batteries in the modern era

[00:29:02] - Why energy should be a more pivotal focus in our future

[00:29:41] - What’s interesting in the world of transportation writ large

[00:31:02] - Boom’s story, supersonic air travel, and why concord shut down

[00:34:55] - Mach 5 and March 12 supersonic air travel

[00:36:19] - Second-order effects of reducing the time cost of air travel

[00:38:19] - Liftoff, SpaceX, and the future of the space sector

[00:43:07] - Other key players in space people could study; Blue Origin and Relativity Space

[00:45:15] - What will we do in space once we can travel there cheaply

[00:46:39] - What he’s most curious about in IT that could drive productive societal growth

[00:50:07] - Ethereum and how a decentralized blockchain could change the world 

[00:51:19] - The kindest thing anyone has ever done for him

Download audio: https://traffic.libsyn.com/secure/investlikethebest/EP.225_-_Eli_Dourado_FINAL.mp3?dest-id=410583
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571 days ago
Oh shit, Eli on ILTB! Listening party, adamgurri?
571 days ago
Thanks for putting this on my radar. Will give this a listen tomorrow
555 days ago
I liked Eli's point about the speed of COVID vaccine development actually supporting the complacency thesis.
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A View From China

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TPM Reader PH gives us a wild, bracing, sobering view from China. This is a must-read …

I’ve been following the COVID-19 cataclysm, as I believe it is, very closely. One reason is that I had the fortunate timing of moving to Beijing from San Francisco in January 2020. I’m far from any kind of expert on China or epidemiology, but as a longtime TPM reader and Prime AF member, I thought I’d share some experiences and thoughts.

The governmental response has been extraordinary, and the national quarantine is total. In February, I only had two places I could go: the place I was staying and the grocery store Carrefour. When entering either, I have my temperature taken by a security guard, and if it were elevated I would go into mandated quarantine. I got caught in a non-tier 1 city for the month after LNY, and for weeks returning to Beijing was out of the question. After I finally returned to Beijing, I received regular phone calls from the police to confirm I was abiding by the self-quarantine, including a door check. Recently it has been loosening up, but most white collar workers are still opting to work from home. Masks are required and ubiquitous. From a personal tech perspective, we are able to have groceries cheaply delivered twice per week, and when we purchase goods in person it’s all self-checkout via QR code, as potentially virus-carrying cash hasn’t been too common in China for awhile. In the past week, the only people I’ve interacted with in person are my security guard and my girlfriend.

Once the threat of COVID-19 was identified, the government was willing and able to sacrifice the economy–what too many Western observers think of as its sole legitimizer–and put all of Chinese society on a total wartime footing against the coronavirus, in the span of one or two weeks. And it’s been wildly effective. It’s really the most impressive deployment of state capacity I’ve seen. It wouldn’t happen in the USA, but moreover it couldn’t happen in the USA even if we wanted it to.

I joke with my friends now that I have a sofa they can crash on if things get bad stateside, but I’m only half joking. Singapore and Taiwan responded to coronavirus very effectively (preventing even the start of community spread), South Korea competently, Italy with a level of mediocrity, and Iran with deep incompetence. The US will likely end up somewhere between Italy and Iran. Because of the test kit fiasco and the resultant lack of rigorous contact tracing, as well as messaging from national leadership, we don’t even know where we stand now, and in the early stages of exponential growth that’s a very bad place to be. The government is unable and unwilling to take the actions necessary to slow the spread, apparently for fear of spooking the markets, which Trump identifies as *his* sole legitimizer. All of that is to say, I wouldn’t be surprised if China issues a travel ban
on Americans by April.

Amartya Sen argued democracy was the cure for disasters such as famine, because it and the free press facilitate the flow of information from the reality on the ground to the national leadership and provides the incentives to address issues correctly. And that argument still has some power: the disconnect between medical officials and bureaucrats in Hubei and the national Chinese leadership contributed to this disaster. But in a post-truth world where power wills its own reality, does democracy still have those feedback mechanisms that give it the edge? When I talk to people in China, the general sense is that China essentially got a pop quiz and scored a B+, while other countries are getting a take home exam and failing it. Buy into that analogy or not, if the USA and the West more broadly flunk this test, the Chinese model will be gaining legitimacy over democracy, not losing it. And that loss in legitimacy will happen everywhere, not just in China.

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1002 days ago
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1001 days ago
New York, New York
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