Sporting work boots, cargo pants, a camo tee, and a bottom lip packed with dip, Jason Wilson looks like the sort of guy who wouldn’t be caught dead in a Prius. And yet that’s what he pulls up in when he meets me at a ranch gate off Interstate 10 more than a hundred miles south of Midland. Beyond the fence line, a handful of cattle graze. As we pass through one gate, then another and another, there’s no hint that this land is used for anything other than ranching. Then, about six miles down the road, the industrial scaffolding of an electrical substation appears in the distance, surrounded by a chain-link fence. Wilson, my personal tour guide, parks his Prius outside a prefab building that…