RELIGION
Then will I call my bastard brother Cult,
To help me out and to abate this strife—
O Cult, come hither, I have need of you.
(Enter Cult in fantastic costume, carrying a crystal into which he gazes. He walks slowly, with an air of craft and mystery, and speaks in a droning monotone.)
CULT
Abracadabra—someone spoke my name—
The aura that I wear about me shivered
As if for vocal contact. I am here.
(While Cult is speaking Trade comes slyly forward from the back, where she has been sitting, watching in disdainful amusement, and gradually draws nearer to the sleeping Mars.)
RELIGION
(to Cult)
Brother, I need you here to stop a fight;
Labor and Capital—
CULT