The Unremarkable House on the Corner

There was no gradual, peaceful awakening. Caleb's PET gave off a loud, discordant buzzing tone, and his eyes jolted open and he sat bolt upright in bed and looked from side to side for the damn thing, his sleepy eyes locating it on his desk. He threw the covers off and crossed the room, hitting the preset series of keys to deactivate the alarm.

"All RIGHT Steel I'm up!"
"Pah. About time. A bit boring in there, to say the least. When are you going to finish that battle training program?"

"When I have time," answered Caleb evasively, retrieving his glasses from the bedside table and donning them. He adjusts the small camera mounted on the frame just to the left of the left lens.

"Got eyes, Steel?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever."

Silver snatched his keys off the hook on the wall and headed out, grabbing an energy bar from a box and his bike from the floor on the way. Walking it out and down the small ramp onto the sidewalk, he climbs on and starts pedaling. He makes it about a block before slamming the brakes and screeching to a halt.

"You forgot to lock the door. Again."
"Silence, you."

Setting out again, he pedals to a small shop where he locks his bike to a stand outside and waves at the owner, Phil Freeman.

"You again, eh? How you been?"
"Fair enough. How's business?"
"A bit here, a bit there. I'm going to get some food for later; watch the shop for me, eh?"
"Sure," replies Silver, jacking into the Net via the shop's wireless connection.
In the corner of the small shop, a nondescript machine reads the data transferred through the PET transmission and whirs to life.

The whirring noise grows louder and louder and suddenly stops. A dull thud issues from its inner workings and a small object falls into the bowl.

Caleb rises from his seated position on a nearby couch and reaches over to pick it up. A gray object emblazoned with a beehive.

He checks the thin top of it, reading the inscription 'RiskyHoney1' on it, shrugs, and slips it in his small chip pouch.

Then he happens to glance up at the clock.

Gah, I was supposed to start working the counter half an hour ago, he thinks irritatedly. Putting his PET in a convenient location behind the counter but still within reach, he takes out a book and waits for custom.