What they actually are, what quietly runs on them, and what they really cost a community — no hype, no spin, just what's documented.
Data centers have become one of the most contested local topics in Citrus County and across Florida. A lot of what circulates about them locally gets exaggerated in both directions — some of it makes data centers sound harmless, some of it makes them sound like an unmitigated disaster for anyone nearby. Neither version is fully honest. Here's what's actually been documented, with sources.
A data center is, at its simplest, a building full of servers that store and process data for other people and companies, connected to the internet around the clock. "The cloud" isn't a cloud — it's these buildings. Below is a partial list of everyday things that depend on them, most of which people never connect to a data center.
None of this is an argument for building a data center in any particular place. It's just the honest starting point: opting out of "data centers" as a category isn't really on the table for anyone living in 2026. The real question a community faces isn't whether to use data centers — everyone already does, several times an hour — it's whether one specific facility belongs in one specific place, and on what terms.
Early 2026: Deltona Corporation proposed rezoning roughly 1,400 acres near Holder and Lecanto — along the CR 491 and Tram Road corridor — for a large-scale data center, combining a 798-acre parcel with the existing 557-acre Holder Industrial Park.
Spring 2026: Residents packed county commission meetings over concerns about water draw, electricity demand, traffic, noise, and the rural, residential character of the area.
May 2026: Citrus County commissioners enacted a one-year moratorium on new data centers and related zoning changes while the county works out what rules, if any, should govern a future proposal.
June 23, 2026: Deltona Corporation formally withdrew its proposal.
The moratorium means the door isn't fully closed — it's paused. That makes understanding the actual facts, not just the loudest claims on either side, worth doing now rather than scrambling during the next hearing.
Large hyperscale data centers can use up to 5 million gallons of water a day for cooling — comparable to a town of 10,000 to 50,000 people. Nationally, about 57% of a data center's direct water draw is treated, potable drinking water, not reclaimed or non-potable sources. Roughly two-thirds of U.S. data centers built or planned since 2022 sit in already water-stressed regions. There's also an indirect water cost most people never hear about: generating the electricity a data center uses consumes water too, averaging roughly 1.2 gallons per kilowatt-hour — for large facilities, that indirect draw can exceed what's used on-site.
A single large data center can draw 100+ megawatts continuously — roughly the electricity use of a small city. Nationally, U.S. data center electricity demand is projected to nearly double between 2025 and 2028, from about 80 to 150 gigawatts. Whether that shows up on a resident's bill depends heavily on the region and how utilities allocate infrastructure costs. Residential electricity prices rose 11.5% nationally in 2025, with data center–heavy states like Ohio and Pennsylvania seeing 9% and 14% increases respectively, while some states with spare grid capacity saw bills stay flat. Data centers aren't the only driver of higher electric bills, but in high-demand regions they're a documented factor — which is why Florida's SB 484, signed into law in 2026, specifically bars data center infrastructure costs from being shifted onto regular ratepayers.
Data centers run cooling systems — chillers, cooling towers, and industrial fans — 24/7, which is the main source of the constant low-level hum neighbors report. Backup diesel generators aren't running around the clock; they mainly kick in during a utility outage. But the widely-adopted National Fire Protection Association standard (NFPA 110) requires monthly load-bank testing of these generators, typically 30 minutes or more at high output, plus a full comprehensive load test every three years — and that routine testing is itself a documented noise source, producing a distinct low-frequency diesel drone in addition to the constant hum of the cooling equipment. Measurements near facilities in Virginia have found overall noise levels between 40 and 78 decibels on residential property, with some neighbors reporting levels the EPA associates with disrupted sleep and reduced ability to concentrate. Neighbors have filed lawsuits over data center noise in New Jersey and Michigan.
This is the area with the most spin on both sides. Data centers are genuinely capital-intensive to build — a large facility can mean hundreds of construction jobs over 12 to 18 months. But permanent, on-site employment is typically small: Georgia Tech researchers found rural data centers often employ fewer than 100 permanent workers, and much of the specialized technical work is contracted from outside the community. On taxes, data centers do generate real local revenue, but companies routinely negotiate property tax abatements and sales tax exemptions that can run for decades — Georgia, Virginia, and Texas together lose more than $1 billion a year combined in forgone tax revenue to these incentives. The actual net benefit to any given county depends entirely on the specific deal negotiated, not on data centers as a category.
Nobody who complains about data centers has any right to, since they use the internet too.
This conflates two different things. Using the internet in general isn't the same as supporting one specific facility sited next to your house. Most people opposing a local data center aren't anti-internet — they're objecting to the water, power, noise, and land-use costs of a particular project in a particular place. That's a normal, defensible position, not a contradiction.
Data centers barely use any water — it's a made-up concern.
Documented and measurable. Large facilities can use millions of gallons a day, and most of that draw nationally is treated drinking water, not recycled water. This is one of the most legitimate, fact-based concerns raised in Citrus County and elsewhere.
A data center will bring hundreds of good permanent jobs to the area.
Construction employment is real but temporary. Permanent on-site jobs at most data centers run in the dozens, not hundreds, and many require specialized skills the facility often brings in from outside the community.
This is just uninformed NIMBYism — most people don't actually oppose data centers.
National polling says otherwise. A March 2026 Gallup poll found 7 in 10 Americans oppose an AI data center being built in their local area, including 48% strongly opposed — higher than opposition to local nuclear power plants. The top cited concerns were resource use (water and energy) and pollution, including noise, not a lack of information.
Opposing a data center in your community means you're against AI and technology.
Where a facility gets built and whether the technology itself is good or bad are two separate questions. Florida's own governor, who signed SB 484 to give counties more power to reject data centers and to protect ratepayers from footing the bill, isn't anti-technology — the law was about where the costs and risks land, not whether AI exists.
Data centers are not optional infrastructure that some people use and others don't — everything from 911 dispatch to your pharmacy runs through them. That fact doesn't settle whether a specific facility belongs on CR 491 in Holder, or anywhere near a residential neighborhood in Citrus County.
CitrusAIworks does not condone building large-scale data centers in or next to our residential areas, for the same documented reasons the county cited when it enacted its moratorium: water draw, power demand, noise, and impact on a rural, residential area. But we also think residents deserve the real facts — not exaggerated claims from either direction — before the next hearing happens.