Burned and earned
Note: this is a longer version of the essay than the one sent in the email.
What's on my mind
A reader wrote in with a fair question. What is the environmental cost of all this? The energy, the water, the lot.
My first instinct was to reassure. The numbers are small. A single text prompt to a language model uses about a quarter of a watt-hour, the energy in less than nine seconds of television. The same prompt runs to 0.03 grams of CO2 equivalent and 0.26 millilitres of water, about five drops. Tiny.
I nearly wrote that, pressed send, and moved on.
Then I realised it was only half the story.
The environmental cost of using AI isn't the cost of the model. It's the cost of the model minus the cost of whatever would otherwise have done the work. The quarter of a watt-hour is what the machine burned. It is one half of a subtraction, and on its own it tells you nothing. The other half is what the machine saved, and that is the half that counts.
Start with the cost, though, because there's a clean way to size it. I think of AI in three generations, and the honest unit for each is a typical run.
Generation one is chat: a prompt. You ask, it answers. Generation two is agents: a task, where the model plans, searches, writes, checks, calls tools and sometimes wanders into the ditch. Generation three is all-day AI: not a prompt or a task but a whole day of them. Something like Claude Tag, released in late June, that watches a team's channels, does a little prep in the morning, reaches out when it spots something and takes on the odd job you hand it.
I wanted to know what each of those actually costs, so rather than guess, I built a small model that counts the tokens a realistic run gets through and turns them into energy, carbon, water, money and human time. The full workings are on a companion page. Here is what it found, for a typical run of each.
| Type |
What it does |
Cost |
Environmental cost |
Human-hours it draws |
| One: chat, a prompt |
A question, or "synthesise this document" |
under a penny |
0.24 Wh · 0.03 g CO2e · 0.26 ml water (five drops) |
about 12 seconds |
| Two: agents, a task |
Research a topic, build a model, make a deck |
about a pound |
~65 Wh · ~8 g CO2e · ~70 ml water (a few sips) |
about 50 minutes |
| Three: all-day, a day |
Triage the inbox, watch the channels, run a few tasks |
a few pounds |
~0.25 kWh · ~30 g CO2e · ~270 ml water (a mug) |
about three hours |
Three things fall straight out of it.
The columns move together. Cost, energy and carbon all scale with the tokens a run gets through, so by energy a task is a couple of hundred prompts and a day about a thousand. That isn't a coincidence, it's the same meter read three ways. It also means the often-quoted line that reasoning and agent work uses hundreds or thousands of times the energy of a text prompt isn't a scare figure. It's just arithmetic.
The per-run numbers stay small. A typical whole day of the heaviest generation draws about a quarter of a kilowatt-hour, roughly what you spend boiling the kettle a couple of times, and drinks about a mugful of water. The frightening global total is real, but it's built from runs this size, repeated a very great many times. Hold that thought.
And the last column is the one worth carrying. It's the machine's energy turned into the currency we all read without thinking: how long someone would have to sit at a laptop, drawing about 75 watts, to use the same power. Read it carefully, because it is a low bar, not a verdict. It's only the point where the machine's energy equals the human's. It is not what the machine replaced.
That gap does the work. What makes AI cheap isn't the power it draws, because a laptop is already frugal. It's the time it saves. A task costs about 50 minutes of human energy but does an afternoon's work, sometimes a day's. There's now a way to put a number on that: METR, an evaluation lab, measures how long a job an agent can finish with even odds of success, using the time an expert would need as the yardstick. That length has doubled roughly every seven months for six years, and by mid-2026 the strongest public models were clearing jobs, mostly software work, that would take an expert around two full working days. The energy is the low bar. The work is the high one. The gap between them runs to ten times over, often much more. You clear the low bar without trying. You'd have to work at losing.
So the rule is short. If a run replaced real work, you came out ahead, usually by a wide margin. And if it replaced any real-world activity beyond desk work, the savings are bigger still. A courier van kept off the road for a cross-city run saves a few kilograms of CO2. A 50-mile round trip to a meeting in a petrol car is about 13 kilograms. A remote analysis that saves a transatlantic return flight is about a tonne per passenger. The AI's environmental cost is a rounding error compared to travel.
There's one way to turn a saving into an environmental cost even on real work: over-power the job. Set a task-sized agent on five minutes of work, and you pay 50 minutes of human-equivalent energy for a few minutes of value. Leave a day-long system running to watch for a need that never comes, and you pay three hours. That's waste in a clever hat. Match the run to the job and the sum falls the right way. A person draws much the same power whatever they do, while the machine's cost per unit of work keeps collapsing. The bigger and more real the job, the more decisively the machine wins.
If it replaced nothing, you spent the energy and got no saving back. That's a real environmental cost, and it is likely where most of the AI's rising footprint sits. It is not a scandal, though, it is a decision, and you already make decisions like this every day. You hire contractors, brief agencies and hand people tasks all the time, and every one of those carries an environmental cost of its own: a commute, a laptop, a heated office. You weigh it against what the work is worth. Commissioning an AI task that replaces nothing is the same decision, priced in the same currency, the human-hours in that last column. A pointless task is like paying someone for 50 minutes to make something no one needed, which happens everywhere, every week. A useful one that no one would otherwise have done can be well worth its cost, exactly as a good contractor is. The only new thing is that the machine's version is cheap enough to wave through without weighing it. So weigh it.
I'm not innocent. I've told you before that I build reports, models and small tools for myself and abandon most of them. Each was a task or two, so call it an hour or two of human-equivalent labour, spent on nothing. Cheap enough that I never counted. Some of it taught me things and was worth every watt. Some of it was just spent. The point isn't that I shouldn't have run them. It's that I never once asked whether they were worth it.
I was asked about this over lunch this week, after a talk to a technology team. How does all this square with a changing climate? The honest answer: if a question is worth asking me at all, the cost of the machine helping me answer it is a fraction of the cost of me answering it alone, in money and in energy. Not a multiple. A fraction. The can of drink in my hand was probably more environmentally destructive than all the AI I would run that day, and the meat in the sandwich I just finished certainly was. Perhaps I should have had the vegetarian option. The waste that matters is the report that sits on a desk and achieves nothing. Most do. Not really an AI problem. It's a problem of what we choose to spend our days on.
Now scale it up, because this is where that frightening global total comes from. Much of the machine's rising footprint isn't replacing work a person used to do. It's work no person was ever going to do. When a task costs a pound or so you commission the thing you'd never have paid a human for: the analysis nobody would have booked, the draft nobody would have briefed. Nothing there is subtracted, because nothing would have happened. The human-hours still size what you got. They just don't cancel anything out. That footprint is new. Perplexity's chief executive has described power users who run agent loops all day, one of them spending more than $10,000 a month. That is machine work no one would ever have paid human rates to produce.
This is the Jevons paradox: cheaper never means less. Data-centre electricity is set to roughly double, from 485 terawatt-hours in 2025 to 950 by 2030, with the AI slice tripling, even as the energy per task keeps falling fast. For scale, that starting point is 1.5% of the world's electricity, with AI about 0.5% of the world total. Google cut the energy of its median prompt 33-fold in a year. Each unit gets cheaper, we run far more units, and the total climbs anyway. So the worth-it question stops being my private edge case and becomes the main event: not whether the machine beat the human it replaced, but whether all this new work was worth its new cost at all.
It is how I have long thought about climate change. Be alarmed by the big, long-term picture and work to fix it. Then fly to New York when the trip is worth it, knowing the flight is part of the problem. Both are true at once, not one or the other. AI is the same: use it, and also worry about where the total is going.
So the watt-hours-per-query figure, the one everyone argues over, was only ever half of a subtraction. Sometimes there's a human on the other side, and the machine wins by a distance. Sometimes there's nobody there, and the whole cost is a bet that the work was worth doing. Either way, the query was never the thing to count.
What it earned always was.
The full workings behind every number here, the model, the ranges and the sources, are on the companion page: The Environmental Cost of AI, to follow or argue with.
Three things worth knowing
1. At its peak in June, half of everything uploaded to Deezer in a day was made by a machine.
Deezer, the music-streaming service, now receives about 90,000 fully machine-made tracks a day, which at peak in June was more than half of everything uploaded. When a machine can produce half of everything a platform receives on its busiest days, the scarce thing stops being the music. It becomes the curation, the attention, and the proof a person made it. The platforms' value sits in filtering the flood, not hosting it.
2. Beijing wants to stop its models leaving. Washington wants to stop them arriving.
On the same day, two governments moved on the same models from opposite directions. The Trump administration is weighing three moves: liability rules for firms that host Chinese models, a public security warning and a trade blacklist. None is confirmed, and an earlier version of the plan was dropped. The trigger was Kimi K3, a powerful open model from Moonshot, a Chinese lab. Beijing, meanwhile, is consulting its own firms on tighter export controls, to stop the West acquiring its advanced models, chips and start-ups. Open models are now a strategic export for the country publishing them and a strategic import for the country adopting them. For anyone weighing a build-versus-buy call on a Chinese model, the risk isn't the model. It's that two governments are deciding whether you get to keep using it.
3. AI may have toppled a 30-year maths conjecture. Who gets the credit?
A wave of AI maths results broke this week. GPT-5.6 Pro produced a counterexample, not yet peer-verified, to the Dinitz-Garg-Goemans conjecture, and one person, working through Codex, solved six open Erdős problems in five days and says the method needs no deep maths background. Ethan Mollick, a Wharton professor who writes about AI at work, asked who owns the achievement when 58 words of prompting solve a problem: the person or the model? Daniel Litt, a mathematician, believes a burst of quick wins on long-ignored problems says more about how many easy problems were left lying around than about a machine out-thinking the field. Both can be true, and the question travels well beyond maths. The same argument about credit is coming for anyone whose work a model can now finish.
Six bits that didn't fit online →
Try this
1. Get most of the way with AI, then pay the expert only for the last mile.
I had a business question this week with real money riding on it, and my adviser's time runs to £375 an hour. Rather than book the whole job, I worked it through with Claude for about half an hour, going back and forth, then sent my adviser the answer I'd reached. They replied that I was mostly there, and just wanted a quick call on the final points. Arriving most of the way changes what you are paying for: the judgement and the sign-off, not the spadework.
2. Give your own AI everything I've written, then ask it for your next AI paper.
Every essay, news item and tip from all 23 editions so far lives on the archive, and each page has a button that copies the lot, formatted for a model to read. Paste it into your own AI, a project or a chat, and the next time you need an AI strategy paper, a board note, or a weekly update of your own, you're not starting cold: you have a couple of hundred worked arguments, numbers and examples to draw on. Or skip the paste entirely and ask the chatbot on the site; it has read the lot.
3. On Friday, have the model mark your own week's AI use.
At the end of the week, ask the model you use most to look back over your own chats and tell you three things: what you leaned on, what you never touched, and what to try next. Someone I work with does exactly this every Friday. Most of us plateau on a handful of habits without noticing, and this is the feedback loop that breaks the rut. Keep it to your own history, though, since across a team it would mean reading private chats.
Try this, with the full prompts, online →
What readers said
Last week I shared your futures and fears, and admitted I'd stopped trying to reconcile the excitement with the dread. The sharpest reply asked who the standard advice is for: a reader thinking about the millions already struggling economically argued that telling people to take charge of their AI future is an impossible demand for most, and asked "who can outrun this thing?" A reader who shares the fear and the wonder alike turned to education: shorten it, and give young people the time to experiment with this technology instead of pumping out "cookie cutter" graduates into a toxic job market. And a reader deep in the numbers struck the week's brightest note: from their own "fox-hole", the data has them growing ever more positive about job creation and productivity. Full reader reactions online →
I've also been reading what readers post on LinkedIn. This week they were less interested in what the models can do than in the questions sitting underneath the build-out: who's in charge, whose judgement we're trusting, and whether the whole thing actually gets delivered.
Nigel Shardlow, an independent consultant who works on agent-based simulation, went to find Thomas Hobbes's grave and came back with the three questions we should put to any AI agent: by whose authority does it act, what do we get in return, and is the trade worth it? Rahim Hirji, a keynote speaker and the author of SuperSkills, names who holds power as intelligence gets cheap, the judgment class, the people trusted to know which of the machine's outputs to believe. And Aakash Gandhi, a partner at L.E.K. Consulting, warns that contracted data-centre megawatts are a long way from operating ones. More online →