CRAWLER

I'm singing along to the music, loudly.  I've downloaded darn near every country song produced between 1950 and1980.  No one to tell me to turn it down.  Why?  I'm in the cab of a crawler train.  80 meter long locomotive, 100 meter long sleighs, over 3 kilometers long.  I'm hauling ore from the X2 mine to the east Greenland port of Angmagssalik.
Why?  Why a job so insane?  Money is nice, but also I'm an outcast, can't bear to live in those cancerous cities with their300 storey buildings.  Here, you're your own boss, I'm alone with this beasty during its 24hour run.  It's dark, but my powerful headlights see 8 km or more.
I'm moving just above walking speed, 2 hours out of X2, debating whether to put on black or green tea, when I see a figure ahead.  On the iceroad to Ang?  I let down the platform for the person to board.
It's minus 60 degrees.  The person gets into the cab and peels off Eskimo parka and snow packs.  I'm staring.
"What's so funny?" she demands in a sharp tone.
"Forgive me ma'am if I appear rude. I've never seen such clothes outside of a historical movie."
I give an ingratiating smile, "prefer black or green tea?"
Sharp, "that's rich, coming from an Afghan.Whatdo you think, Einstein?"
I start to put on green.  "And I've never seen such clothes outside of a scifi movie.  So we're even, your mother dresses you funny."
"Lemon, sugar, ma'am?"
"Both.  Why on earth they hire a girl for this?  Surely it's a man's job?"
I laugh easily, "the men bring too many addictions to work, never last."
"And I suppose you're one of them westernized Afghans?"
"Ma'am I'm ; trying to be polite.  Maybe a little less scorn in your voice? And what's wrong with westernized?"  She shoots me a filthy look, doesn't reply.
I pour, we sip in silence a bit.  "I ah well guess I came across as a little rude.  Forgive me.  Just the shock of being here.  Where is here?"
"Ice road leading to Angmagssalik."
"Where's that?"
"Eastern Greenland."
She stares a moment, "I'm starting to get the message.  Displaced in time as well as space. What date is it?"
"February 15, 2315."
"How do I get back?"
"To where?"
Touches the 2 silver shoulder bars.  "Captain,  NGO called Association of Afghan Women, circa 2000."
"Far as I know ma'am, time travel still isn't invented perse.  Perhaps your displacement was an accident."
"So what do I do?"
"No problem.  This is my last run before R&R.  Got an apartment near Copenhagen.  You can hang out with me a bit.  Got friends who can find under-the-table work."
"How do I get to Cope?"
"Chill, airticket costs an hour's wage. No passport, domestic flight."
It's dead easy, two days and she's got a diner job.  Just for fun, I buy some opium to end my R&R.  I drift off peacefully, wake up in a strange world.
I'm lying on mail sacks in an ancient cargo plane, the kind that burns hydrocarbons, is noisy and vibrates a lot.  As I peel away the blanket, I groan, I'm in the same uniform as she.
Gentle smile,"feeling ok?"
"Felt better, felt worse, say average."
Tentative smile, "turns out I found a wormhole back.  Only problem, dragged you too.  Was an accident, didn't mean it."   Yeah and the road to Hades is paved with good intentions.
"Look don't take it hard, we'll dream up a good cover story for you."
"Such as?"
She touches the sergeant stripes on my sleeve.  "Now I'm guessing anyone who can handle all those controls knows electronics."
"Yeah, one hitch in army, electronics tech."
"Good you are our electech.  Easy, our stuff is lots simpler."
"That's ridiculous.  What about the cultural faux pas I'll commit?"
"Chill.  Everyone knows techies are geeks.  Any slipup, they'll just attribute to geekdom.  Or westernization.  Or both."
We both laugh.
We come in for a landing, dodging craggy peaks, step off into the cool moist air.
The jeep driver smiles ingratiatingly, "Captain, I swear I take back everything I ever said about you. Yes I called you a nincompoop, to your face,  many times. But hey, to dig an electech out of HQ, now THAT is an achievement."