Urine day (p. 155)
Mario’s the only other person sharing the optic-and-editing labs off the main tunnel, and the two have the kind of transpersonal bond that shared interests and mutual advantage can inspire: if Mario’s not helping Pemulis fabricate the products of independent-optical-study work M.P. isn’t really much into doing—you should see the boy with a convex lens, Avril likes to say within Mario’s hearing; he’s like a fish in brine—then Pemulis is giving Mario, who’s a film-nut but no great tech-mind, serious help with cinemo-optical praxis, the physics of focal-length and reflective compounds—you should see Pemulis with an emulsion curve, yawning blasély under his bill-reversed yachting hat and scratching an armpit, juggling differentials like a boy born to wear a pocket-protector and high-water corduroys and electrician’s tape on his hornrims’ temples, asking Mario if he knows what you call three Canadians copulating on a snowmobile.
Context
The labs' two heirs split JOI's craft down the middle: Mario gets the eye (a fish in brine with a convex lens, per Avril, said within his hearing) and Pemulis the physics (focal-length, reflective compounds, emulsion curves) — Himself's optics surviving only as a two-boy composite, "cinemo-optical praxis" being the narrator's coinage for the inheritance. Neither boy alone is the father; the bond the sentence calls "transpersonal" is, functionally, the estate. ("blasély" as written — plausibly authorial.)