Chapter Seven
Deidre
“For society to survive, the invisible are needed.” —The Cleaners’ Manual
Deidre had been a reporter since she was old enough to snoop and write. To her, anyone was fair game, which was probably why she had no friends.
She said she was born to tell what must be told. Others, questioning the whole “tell what must be told” theory, called her a cold, calculating chancer with no shame, some even to her face. She didn’t care; she lived for the next story. But today was different . . .
While Vegas and DBO were making their way through the greenhouse and Hilda was inspecting her “drill,” Deidre’s mind was working overtime. She had a feeling in her reporter bones, a feeling that caused her indigestion. The last time she’d felt like that was when she heard of the mechanica
