Contingency in Lingotto

Part 3

The Turin Tiger, perhaps? I suggest. I'll take that for the byline.

I can only hope for a nickname that sounds meaningful these days. I remember the Elysian Times, when conventional newspapers, rather than Google, earned all the advertising cash, when I was flown to Rome to interview government ministers.

One of the first things a beat reporter does after receiving a story assignment is to get in touch with the family. I find the father of Paulina on social media and introduce myself:

I'm Max Serafino, a journalist with the Turin Register. I want to make sure I have all the facts straight because I'm writing a story on the sad occurrence involving your daughter. Please get in touch with me as soon as possible.

I get a response that seems to have been copied and pasted:

Please don't contact us again; we have nothing to say. A family named The Fiore

The Turin Register's newsroom is quiet about the Paulina case for a few days when I switch to another breaking subject.

Someone yells, "Max. Line 7!"

"City desk, Max Serafino," is my response.

A man introduces himself as the father of Paulina Fiore, "our daughter." All of it is our fault. We observed how much time she was wasting on her phone but did nothing to stop her.

I ask, "Is there a reason you decided to call me today?" "I'm sure it's not your fault, but I would like to hear more," I reply.

The cops asked us questions about the websites she was looking at after unlocking her phone.

"Do any of the names come to mind?"

"I'm not sure. He said, "But the majority of the articles were about diseases. I've never heard of any of them.

Was she in touch with anyone at all?

They did claim that she got the ItaliaApp URLs from friends.