ANALYSIS: 55 billion for microchips, zero for children sleeping in cars in Austin

A chip factory drinks like a city

A semiconductor factory of this size consumes about 19 million liters of water per day. That’s equivalent to the daily water consumption of 76,000 people. In July 2025, Texas experienced its worst drought since 1956. Reserves at Lake Travis dropped to 38% of capacity.

And yet, the permits were issued. And yet, the water contracts were signed. And yet, farmers in Hays County received a notice of irrigation restrictions on August 12, 2025.

The Governor’s Moral Arithmetic

Greg Abbott, governor of Texas since 2015, signed the final authorization for the project on April 28, 2026. The same Greg Abbott who, in March 2025, refused to expand the Medicaid program to 1.3 million poor Texans on the grounds that “the state couldn’t afford it.”

The state couldn’t afford to provide healthcare for 1.3 million people. The state could afford to offer $2.1 billion in tax breaks to a single company so it would come and manufacture chips. The verb “to be able” is a political verb. It never describes a reality—it always describes a decision.

People will tell me that I’m comparing apples and oranges. That budgets don’t work that way. That it’s more complex. That’s the argument people always bring up when they don’t want to face the brutal simplicity of a decision. Complexity has become the modest veil for immoral choices.

Artificial intelligence for whom?

The chips produced at the Austin factory will be used to train the artificial intelligence models of xAI, Musk’s company. These models, in turn, will generate content, analyses, and automated decisions. For whom? For companies that can afford the Premium subscription. How much does the Premium subscription cost? $40 a month.

$40 a month is exactly what Tanya Williams spends on gas to get to work each week. She’ll never subscribe. The artificial intelligence trained using her water, on her land, near the car where her children sleep, will never be at her service. It will be at the service of those who didn’t need anything to begin with.

The Trickle-Down That Doesn’t Trickle Down

The official argument is well known: the plant will create 6,000 direct jobs and 18,000 indirect jobs. That’s true. It’s just as true that the average salary for a skilled position at a semiconductor factory in Texas is $94,000 a year. Tanya Williams doesn’t have an engineering degree. Marcus might get one—in 22 years. Maybe.

Meanwhile, the median rent in Austin will continue to rise. Economic studies from the University of Texas estimate that such an industrial project drives rents up by 14 to 19 percent within a 30-kilometer radius over five years. The jobs will come. The poor will leave. This is what press releases call “urban revitalization.”

We’ve been promised trickle-down effects for forty years. Forty years we’ve been waiting. Forty years it’s been trickling upward—toward the golden collars, toward offshore accounts. And we keep holding out our hands, hoping for a splash. It’s become our form of optimism: believing that a crumb will be enough.

The Concentration of Power We No Longer Dare to Name

Elon Musk owns Tesla, SpaceX, X (formerly Twitter), Neuralink, The Boring Company, and now xAI with its new factory. As of May 5, 2026, his net worth is estimated at $438 billion. That’s more than Hungary’s GDP. It’s more than eight times the French defense budget.

This man can, in a single morning, decide to allocate $55 billion to a project without asking anyone’s permission. Not a parliament. Not a referendum. Not a court. This man wields more economic power over North America than half the sovereign states on the planet.

The word we no longer use

We used to use the word “oligarchy.” We don’t use it anymore. We say “visionary entrepreneur.” We say “tech titan.” We say “innovator.” The words have been sanitized, polished, stripped of their original meaning. When vocabulary changes, it means reality has already changed without us even noticing.

And yet, this is indeed an oligarchy. It is indeed private power that has become public power without asking for permission. It is indeed far-reaching decisions made by men whom no one has elected.

I don’t hate Elon Musk. It’s more serious than that. I’m fascinated by what he represents: living proof that our democracies have accepted, without debate, that a single individual can carry more weight than millions of citizens. The scandal isn’t him. The scandal is our acceptance.

What the Democrats said. What the Republicans said.

On May 6, 2026, Texas Democratic Senator Joaquin Castro issued a four-paragraph statement hailing “a major investment in the Texas economy.” Four paragraphs. Not a word about the homeless. Not a word about water. Not a word about rent.

Republican Governor Abbott issued a five-paragraph statement hailing “American ingenuity and the Texas pioneer spirit.” Five paragraphs. Not a word about the homeless. Not a word about water. Not a word about rent.

The unanimity that should alarm us

When Democrats and Republicans jointly praise the same bill, in the same terms, with the same omissions—that’s cause for concern. Political unanimity, in a divided society, is always a sign that the issue has been removed from debate.

And yet, the questions remain. Why 2.1 billion in tax breaks? Why not a publicly funded housing fund? Why not a clause prioritizing local hiring? Why not a tax on industrial water consumption? These questions have not been asked. Not by them. Not for us.

The silence of elected officials is not an oversight. It is a strategy. When a project yields so much in lobbying, election campaigns, and cross-contracts—it becomes invisible. Not by accident. By design. Democracy continues to function on paper. On the ground, it is money that speaks, that decides, and that remains silent when necessary.

The Child Who Won’t Know

Sofia Gonzalez is 7 years old. She draws cats on paper towels. Her mother, Maria, a nurse in San Antonio, promised her that by Christmas 2026, she would have a sketchbook with smooth, white pages. Maria has done the math. The sketchbook costs $4.99. Sofia doesn’t know that her mother is setting aside 50 cents a week in a metal box so she can buy it.

Twenty-three kilometers from Sofia’s home, Elon Musk’s factory will consume 19 million liters of water per day. It will produce chips that will power artificial intelligence models. One day, these models will tell someone how to optimize a stock portfolio. These chips will never draw a cat on paper towels.

A Future Already Written

In ten years, Sofia will be 17. She may have gotten her notebook by then. She may have finished high school. She may have applied to college. She won’t work at Musk’s factory—she won’t have the credentials. She won’t subscribe to xAI Premium: she won’t have the $40. She will have grown up next to a technological cathedral that doesn’t belong to her.

And yet, the water she’ll have drunk, the electricity she’ll have used, the air she’ll have breathed—all of it will have been shared with that factory. Without anyone asking her. Without anyone offering it to her. Without anyone holding anyone accountable to her.

Sofia is 7 years old. She draws cats. When I think of her, of Marcus, of Jamal, of all those children who will never be mentioned in a press release, I tell myself that we’re building a society where the “useless” aren’t even exploited anymore. They’re just cast aside. With their drawings of cats. With their seatbelts.

What We’ll Know in Ten Years

In ten years, the Austin factory may be obsolete. The chips it produces today will have been replaced by others—faster, more powerful, designed elsewhere. Musk may have sold the company. The site may have been repurposed. The technology cycle will have turned. That’s the cold arithmetic of innovation.

But Marcus will be 16. He might remember the car. The seatbelt. His mother’s voice saying, “That way, no one can take you away.” Sofia will be 17. She might remember the notebook she didn’t get when she was 7. The metal box. The 50 cents a week.

The Question No One Asks

In ten years, we’ll be asked if the factory was a success. Economists will say yes: Texas’s GDP will have increased by 0.4%. Politicians will say yes: 24,000 jobs will have been created. Shareholders will say yes: xAI’s value will have tripled.

No one will ask Marcus. No one will ask Sofia. No one will ask Tanya, who’s still sleeping in the Honda Civic, or Maria, who’s still setting aside her 50 cents. A company’s success isn’t measured by what it builds. It’s measured by what it chooses to ignore while it’s building.

$55 billion. A notebook for $4.99. And in between, the perfectly rehearsed silence of all those who could have asked the question. And who didn’t ask it. And who won’t ask it. Elon Musk wants to build an AI chip factory in Texas. And we’ve already moved on.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist