Infinity's Avatar - Prologue

Infinity's Avatar - Prologue
Mike Weldon loved camping, usually by himself. More than one relationship had failed because a prospective girlfriend who said she loved to hike and camp was lying. Except for Audrey, she actually did like hiking and camping, but had gotten a job offer on the West Coast as chief actuarial officer for a major financial services company, too good to refuse.
They promised to stay in touch, but he knew that long-distance relationships rarely worked out. He was a "catch" which is why so many women lied, exaggerated, or catfished him. Mike was a 28-year-old billionaire tech entrepreneur who graduated MIT at age 19. Six feet tall with messy light brown hair, brown eyes, boyish good looks, and a muscular athletic build, he was one of the most recognizable figures in the current quantum tech boom. Being such a public celebrity, he often had the misfortune of appearing on Page Six and the tabloids. He had a small army of lawyers who were constantly suing them with about a 50% rate of success. Mike was seriously considering becoming the catfishor instead of the catfishee.

Still, camping and hiking, even by himself, was a welcome break from the shareholders, lawyers, politicians, scammers, and gold diggers that dominated his life. The White Cloud Mountain Trail, here in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho, was one of his favorite hiking destinations. It was mostly unknown except for locals and had everything an experienced hiker could want. The "mostly unknown" was important. He could go days without encountering another hiker and be unrecognized.

Someone like Mike was never truly alone, however. He had a GPS tracker that also monitored his life signs. He had a rapid-response team of ex-special forces veterans shadowing him, and there was a helicopter fueled and ready nearby to pick him up if needed.

It was early June. The noon sky was azure blue. A blanket of pure white clouds wrapped the snow-covered peaks. A symphony of bird calls floated on the light breeze. And stopped.

A delicate vibration, more a feeling than an actual sensation, worked its way up from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. He looked at the sky and thought he saw spider-web cracks spread across the sky. They became jagged and more irregular now, like a jigsaw puzzle.

The cracks grew wider. Within the interstices, Mike saw strange vistas and great cities. Some resembled the great cities and temples of Ancient Greece. Others reminded him of the great towers and spires of Asgard, as described in Skdskaparm, from the Prose Edda. He saw the trackless green plains of Takama-no-Hara, and the heavenly realm of Svarga with its self-luminous jewel-studded houses, within the bosom of the sacred mountain, Meru. But then, dark, brooding buildings seemingly stolen from H. P. Lovecraft's mind by the unearthly horrors that inhabit his world replaced the heavenly beauty. There were hellish landscapes of fire and burning lava rivers under a burning, dark brown sky taken from a Mordor made real. In those raging rivers, skeletal arms reached towards the celestial hell above before sinking down into the glowing magma.

Mike slammed his eyes shut, hoping the inexplicably real phantasms would abate, terrified by the nightmarish visions. He felt himself sink down. Am I dead? He thought. Have I fallen off the mountain? He laid there, too frightened to open his eyes. Then, far away, but drawing closer was the rhythmic mechanical thump-thump of a helicopter. A moment later, he felt the light touch of a paramedic.

"Are you OK, Mr. Weldon? Don't move. We'll take care of you."
Still keeping his eyes tightly closed, Mike listened intently to the surrounding sounds: the quiet but tense conversation of the rescue team, the delicate sound of birds punctuated by the hunting cry of a hawk and the distant roar of a mountain stream, swollen by snowmelt. Cautiously, Mike opened his eyes. His sunglasses had fallen off. The brilliant sun and glare of the still plentiful snow blinded him. Squinting to protect his eyes, he saw his sunglasses and put them on.

He sat up, helped by the paramedic, Lisa Canby, and leader of his security team, Mark Williams. He pushed them away and stood up. "I'm OK," he said.

"Are you sure, Mr. Weldon?" Williams asked.

"Sir, you lost consciousness." Lisa said.

"I'm fine. Stop fussing." Mike said. But am I "fine?" He thought. I remember every detail of what I saw, and it felt real.

"Sir," Lisa said. At least let us get you off this mountain and have you checked out."

Mike hated doctors, but for once, he was worried. Did I have a stroke or a brain tumor? Who can I even tell about what I saw? They'd think I was nuts. I can just imagine what would happen if the board of directors got wind of my vision. That jackass Jack Willoughby wants me out as CEO, anyway. So, for one of the few times in his life, he didn't fight or argue about about seeing a doctor, but did he need a neurologist or a psychiatrist?. "OK. Let's get out of here."
"Wyatt, pick up Mr. Weldon's stuff," Williams said.

"Yes, sir." They loaded Mark's pack and other equipment on to the custom-built Bell 429. "Do you need help to get on, sir?"

"Just stop!" Mark said, clearly annoyed as he climbed in.