By Pericle Bartolini.’ Poor guy, whenever anything terrible happens, they always send him. Even the priest turns tail and runs when he sees him. ‘Pineta. It seemed like a simple accident, but what happened yesterday at the Hotel Santa Bona soon turned to tragedy. The first day of the Twelfth International Conference on Macrolecul, no, Macromolecul and Biomacro . . . ,’ anyway, you know the one he means, ‘was coming to an end when the audience of scientists was informed by one of the organizers of the sudden death of . . . ’”—Ampelio paused—“‘ . . . Kiimiinoobu Asaahara, a Japanese scientist known throughout the world for his work in the field of biotechnology. After lunch, Professor Asahara had suffered what at first was considered merely a small accident.’ Put like that, anyone’d think he shit in his pants. ‘Having apparently slipped on a rug, he had hit his head on the edge of a piece of furniture, suffering contusions to the side of his skull. A simple accident indeed.
