Rome. Bomb or no bomb, to quote Antonello Venditti, when, at midday, the Virgilio secondary school had already been evacuated for an hour following the alert sent simultaneously by email to thousands of Italian schools, the real bang came from the cannon on the Gianicolo. Some of the students standing on the Lungotevere almost found themselves thinking: “Could it be that there really is something going on?”. As for the rest, the pupils say via mobile and then in person, “nobody believed it”. The suspicion that it was a hoax arose almost immediately, when the text from the self-styled “Mikhail Andropov” popped up in the chat groups. Seen by parents, it sparked concern on the one hand and, on the other, a somewhat incongruous sense of half-amusement. Who is behind this individual writing from Taiwan? An imitator of dangerous hackers? An incel inspired by a TV series? Martians? Above all: is there a real danger? The students, meanwhile, remain there, neither out nor in. “But why wasn’t the fire drill alarm sounded?”, they ask. Giulia, in her third year of sixth form, finds it “extremely serious that we haven’t received any official warning”. Some were informed by a teacher, others by a friend or through word of mouth, whilst others were simply pleased because they were leaving early. “But if it’s a hoax, why do we have to stay out here for hours? And if it isn’t, isn’t it dangerous to stay near the school?”, says Tea, who is almost sixteen, in a voice message. The account speaks of agitation and confusion, not fear. The voice message continues: “I was on my way to break. At first we didn’t believe it, then the caretakers told us to get out. But so far not a single person I know has thought it was true: that email sounds like the script of a film.” What did the teachers say? That it was 90 per cent fake news, but that we still needed to evacuate.” Did you know these alerts have been happening repeatedly over the last few weeks? “No.” Giulia continues: “We saw a crowd gathering in the playground: the headteacher was there, but we couldn’t hear a thing; someone said ‘bomb threat’, and at first we started laughing, thinking it was a joke. Half of us hadn’t realised what we were supposed to do; we were hearing conflicting reports. The situation only became clear when the email containing the threat arrived via chat: it was surreal.” Giovanni, 16, adds: “The headteacher told us not to panic. Once we’d been evacuated, we just stayed here, doing nothing; it was very stressful.” For Sara, aged 16, “the alarm, at 10.50, went off late: the email had arrived at 10.30, but many only found out about it afterwards. We didn’t understand. The first rumours in the corridors said to go outside, but we didn’t trust them, because they came from other pupils. We realise this is an extraordinary event, but shouldn’t there be a protocol for these situations?”
