Summary: Blair experiences "spiritual visions." Pre-TSbyBS. References to some episodes, but no spoilers. If you liked Techgrrl Does Smarm, then you'll probably like this one, too.
Disclaimer: No offense intended to anyone who writes about, reads about, or practices vision quests in real life.
Further, no copyright infringement meant toward the owners of The Sentinel. I think this qualifies as satire or parody, protected by the First Amendment. I fully admit all the characters are property of Paramount Studios and Pet Fly. It's just entertainment for fans.
Blair Sandburg sat in his office, staring blearily at his Anthro 760 notes. Too many long nights had taken their toll, and the letters began to swim. The neat little letters swam careful laps, back and forth along the pale blue rule of his notebook. He blinked thickly, but they kept going (the Ys were winning with a swift sidestroke). He began to worry that some of them might drain out of the spiral binding and fall off the side of the desk to their doom.
With a soft "whuh!" Blair's head snapped up when a motion--a motion--caught the corner of his eye. Through the frosted panes of his office door, he saw somebody... somebodies... oh, it was the cleaning crew. Was it that late already? Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was even later.
Frowning sternly at the letters on the page (which had obediently returned to their normal places), Blair made a huffing sound that clearly meant, we're going to do this one more time. Because the exam was tomorrow. The last. Exam. Ever. Tomorrow.
After that it was just the thesis. Just. Ha ha.
But tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, there was one more essay exam. Please remove your watches and sharpen your pencils, no talking please. Fill out the blue books and boogie down!
It sounded wonderful, but he had to get there, so please little notebook letters, no boogie-ing just yet.
There were only ten pages. How hard can that be. Ten itsy bitsy tiny teeny meeny miney moe tiger toe little pages.
Blair lay his head down on the open page. Just for a minute.
He stood in the jungle, with his hair free and his chest uncovered. He wore a clay amulet around his neck and silver bracers at his wrists. His bare toes curled around the soft, cool, loam of the jungle floor.
Jim gets army gear in his visions. Blair looked down at the colorful patterns on his own garb. I get a loincloth. He smiled. Cool.
He noticed then that he carried a simple spear in one hand. It had a sharp metal tip, which he was smart enough not to cut himself on. The other end was blunt, with slightly rounded edges.
Ahead of him, an owl hooted. Having read I Heard the Owl Call My Name in seventh grade like everyone else, Blair decided that probably wasn't a good thing. He turned around and headed the other way.
At first there was a smooth path, but soon it became difficult to travel. Rocks cut his feet, and vines got in his way. It was then that he realized a harsh but universal truth: If you want to cut through vines, you need a knife, not a spear.
He turned and limped back to the clearing where he'd started, only to find someone standing in "his" spot.
It was Incacha, of course.
"Incach--"
"YOU MUST CAST ASIDE YOUR DESIRES" said Incacha in a deep ominous voice. "YOU MUST GO TO THE RIVER AND BE TESTED THERE"
This was very odd. In the brief time Blair had known Incacha, there was only well-meant curiosity, and a perhaps a too-enthusiastic sense of justice. None of this harbinger of doom stuff.
"But, there was no-one to teach me! You gave me shamanic powers and left!"
"YOU ARE PREPARED OR YOU ARE NOT"
"But--"
"IT IS TIME"
Of course, the jungle then sprang to life around him, starting with the owl. It was followed by a bear (in the jungle?), a fox, a small family of turtles, a fearsome wildcat (female, if he was any judge, from the paler markings), and an annoying pair of colorful birds that squawked "ack-ack-ack-ack-ack!" The motley stampede chased him down a small ravine, though he was able to flip one of the turtles on its back with the butt of the spear.
He splashed across a narrow stream and an eerie silence filled the jungle forest. When he looked back across the water, he found that he was alone.
Blair climbed the near side of the ravine (it seemed the thing to do) and walked into a clearing. It was lit with bright rays of sunshine which pierced the dense treetop cover high above.
He sensed someone behind him, and turned to see a cowled figure. There was something familiar about him...
"Have you cast aside your desires in preparation?" said the figure seriously. That voice... where had he heard it before?
"Yes," answered Blair, because that's not the kind of question you say no to.
The figure stepped forward and removed the hood that had concealed his face.
Blair's jaw dropped. "Uncle Gustavo??"
"Yes," said the mustached man with twinkling eyes. "Yes, Blair. It is I, Gustavo Alcante. Are you prepared to face the consequences of your destiny, Shaman?"
"Uh, I guess. Sure. Bring it on." The air suddenly became colder, the sun faded from overhead. Blair realized why Army fatigues really were the better vision-wear.
"Explain the role of non-governmental organizations in third-world countries, and compare and contrast their effects on modern gender roles to the effects of traditional cultures' effects on same."
"What??"
But the world was falling away behind and around him, until he was surrounded by nothing but shrieking wind and clouds.
"YOU ARE NOT YET READY" followed Incacha's judgement. "THROW AWAY YOUR DESIRES AND THERE WILL BE ANOTHER TIME"
Blair jerked awake with a soft "whuh!" He grasped his spear--er, pencil--tightly, and tried to remember to breathe.
Soft grey light shone in from the window. The bleak sunrise of Cascade greeted him.
Blair returned to his Anthro 760 notes, now well-behaved after a couple hours' sleep. He wanted nothing more than a cup of strong coffee, but it seemed best to throw away his desires until after the exam.