Young Writers Society

We've been looking at bio-technology at school, and that inspired me to think up this.

North-West England, 2076
Even the usually poker-faced and calm newsreader looked terrified. I watched the familiar young woman blanch with an anxious expression of my own. Her heart-shaped face, although liberally applied with make-up, was ashen-grey and pearly with sweat; her eyes, with mascara applied thickly on each individual lash, were wide as she read the autocue. Her voice was monotonous, and it sounded as if only her thick pay cheque kept her reading. She reached up once to smooth her highlighted blonde hair, but other than that she stayed ram-rod straight on her stool.
I was riveted by the morning news for the first time. I had turned on the television automatically that morning – the routine was too engrained for me to cease doing so now – and flicked my hand at the screen, scanning through the channels until it came to the news. There had been a few bulletins about the recent protests by animal-rights activists, and then something about a celebration of twenty years or so of petrol-free cars, but I hadn’t really been paying attention.
It was the following bulletin that changed everything.
Having clicked my Teafee machine on to make me a mug of strong tea, I opened my back door and the outer door – heat loss regulations – to allow my two rabbits to lop playfully out into my generous back garden. I was lucky that it was just small enough to be exempt from the law, that stated any garden fifty square metres or larger had to be least ten percent working allotment. Otherwise I would have had to grow all those plants in my garden, and tending vegetables... Well, let’s just say I’m not particularly green-fingered. My two rabbits would also have been a problem – if they had eaten too many vegetables I would have gone hungry; if you had an allotment, your food quota went down, as the government reminded us constantly. I stood by the open door, enjoying the cool morning breeze, and watched them play joyfully in the long grass. They stuck out like two sore thumbs, one being fluorescent pink and the other fluorescent blue.
“And now we have a serious announcement from the CEO of B-Tech UK. In an urgent announcement earlier this morning, he spoke...” The startled voice of the newsreader had me turning my head around to stare anxiously at the plasma screen above the defunct fireplace. It had changed to the regional news, but the uncomfortable, nervous sensation in the pit of my stomach told me this should be headline news. It often happened like that: they kept the news regional to minimise public worry, even though it would probably be in everybody’s best interest to know the truth.
The image on the screen changed from the clinical, smooth and classy newsroom to a huge bright white hall with floor-to-ceiling windows, and I knew instantly where they were. It was the main hall of the B-Tech laboratory. Only one of those big labs could have such big windows. Every window had to be triple-glazed and made of the special glass that was so much better at keeping heat in than conventional glass, but it cost more than I cared to think about. So it was much easier and cheaper to have small windows and spend more time outside.
“I am sorry to announce,” said the CEO in a clear, reverberating voice that was magnified by the microphones that were shoved under his nose by eager reporters, “that last night the security here at B-Tech Laboratory C was breached. A full investigation has already been launched into discovering how and why this happened, but until we find out we encourage the general public to remain vigilant, and if you hear of any plot, or arranged scheme to bring down this institution, I beg you to come forward. This is a serious matter that carries a severe penalty. Thank you.” He nodded several times at the crowd, who as soon as he finished talking pushed and shoved, screaming out extra questions and trying desperately to get nearer as he turned and walked back out of the hall, buffered by several of his staff.
I hurried down my tea, ushered the rabbits into their secure run and dashed out of the house. If it was as critical down at the lab as it sounded, they would need all the employees they had to clean up this mess, me included – no matter how little I liked my job. As I rushed for the bus that was due in less than a minute, I hoped with all my might that none of the animals at the lab had taken advantage of the breach of security and escaped.

Hi! I'm Banango and I'm here to review your work.

Let's start.

Her voice was monotonic, and it sounded as if it was only her thick pay check that kept her reading.

...and it sounded as if only her thick pay check kept her reading.

Shave off any words that you can do without. It improves the pace.

I was lucky that it was only just small enough to be exempt from the law, that stated any garden fifty square metres or large had to have be least ten percent working allotment.

I was lucky it was small enough to be exempt from the law that stated any garden fifty square meters of larger had to have at least ten percent of it allotted to work.

Is that what you meant? I didn't get the end part, so I guessed. Again, shave off words you don't need. Only and just take the life out of your sentences sometimes.

He said in an urgent announcement earlier this morning...”

In an urgent announcement earlier this morning, he said..." would be better I think. It's something about the sentence structure that wasn't right.


Apart from that, you need to get rid of "just" and "quite". They really kill your story. And trust me, your story sounds awesome from what I can tell.

I wonder what happened at B-Tech....

Sincerely,

Banango Cheesecake

Even the usually poker-faced and calm newsreader looked terrified. Her heart-shaped face, although liberally applied with make-up, was ashen-grey and pearly with sweat; her eyes, with mascara applied thickly on each individual lash, were wide as she read the autocue.

"ashen-grey" is a strange way of describing shock or terror. "Blanched white" although a cliche can be adapted to describe shock in a more generic way. Your description of ashen-grey is in danger of becoming over the top. We also do not need physical details of the news reader.

Her voice was monotonic, and it sounded as if only her thick pay check kept her reading.

Monotonic - monotonous
Check- cheque

I was riveted by the morning news for the first time. I had turned on the television automatically that morning – the routine was too engrained for me to cease doing so now – and flicked my hand at the screen, scanning through the channels until it came to the news. There had been a few bulletins about the recent protests by animal-rights activists, and then something about a celebration of twenty years or so of petrol-free cars, but I hadn’t really been paying attention.

Dear me.You have shifted POV too quickly. You've spent far too much time describing the newsreader who we think is a crucial character then we go to first person. This is unclear, I'd start with the main character watching the news. ie. "I flicked through a few sports channels, then a shaking newsreader burst onto the TV and stuttered her way through a news report."

It was the following bulletin that changed everything.

Cliche.

Ok, so as usual I have a flavour for the whole piece by analysing the first half. I won't critique the next bit. The issue here is lack of focus. What is the conflict of the scene? First, you need to open with your main character and your main character needs to be entering, or already in interesting circumstances. There is no real hook or drive in this story - as a reader, I am unsure where it is going.

Remember - show us everything through your characters, don't start with the newsreader and bring your protagonist in later!