Press opened his eyes feeling completely refreshed when the alarm sounded. He was used to waking up early, as sometimes his machines failed during the middle of the night and he had to fix them. He got out of bed already wearing his normal clothes, unlike some who would wear pajamas. He sent a mental command to Horus, who landed on Press' outstretched arm and walked up to his shoulder. He grabbed his storage cube, since he never left without it, and put on a newly made glove he created last night. It would allow for quick access to his cube without the need to unlock it. Of course, it only worked for him, since the glove would grab nothing out unless Press gave his cube the mental command to place the desired object in his glove. Satisfied, he brushed his clothes off, attempting to straighten out the wrinkles in his clothes, and made sure his turret defense system was still operational.