I have crystal clear memories from my beginning. I mean, what else can you expect when you're a robot, or, what my father calls, an anthroid.

No, no, I don't have an actual father, but Leo White might as well be one. He created me, took care of me, and, well, pretty much everything I suppose a dad must do. Leo, as I like to call him, is one of the best engineers in the world. Multiple prizes and recognition, couple of biographies about him, and even an invitation to the White House to meet the president.

Still, underneath that aura of significance and intelligence lies a man with a broken heart.

My creators are Leo and Eva White. They claimed my name, Snow, came from my pale skin, and that they considered me as their actual daughter, thus my last name. After I came into existence, they had a son named Randy. He's now fifteen, but smart enough to be in college. He grew up with me, learning multiplication and long division by the time he was six, and already understanding the basics of calculus when he was twelve.

What made Leo such a distant man was the death of his wife. She passed away during childbirth. It was about four months after I had gained consciousness. The kind and clever Eva was gone forever. Who wouldn't grieve if their loved one died? Even I, a man-made, artificial piece of metal, can feel it. Well, I hope that sudden urge to stop whatever I'm doing when I think of Eva is sadness. Being indebted to my mother, I should at least mourn her, shouldn't I? It's the only thing I can do.

One day, Leo's subdued heart was mended by the appearance of the genius Dr. Mary Grimhilde. Her beautiful face and impressive mind captivated my father, and within a couple years, they were married. The start of Leo's joy signified the beginning of all my troubles and sorrows.

~•~•~•~

"Clean the fractures between the computers faster!" Dr. Grimhilde barks, smacking my cheek with a stinging blow. "An important guest is coming, you hunk of metal! And straighten all of the awards me and my dear Leo has received." She turns with a brisk manner and stalks to her room, her heels clicking sharply on the polished marble floor. I glare at her closed door, gingerly touching my cheek.

It wasn't long ago when we hired ten maids to our mansion. I scowl as one of them, lounges lazily on our dark red sofa. Why couldn't they do it? Oh, but of course, Dr. Grimhilde couldn't stand to see me content. Her precious step-anthroid couldn't sleep, couldn't rest, couldn't play. No, she was only bits of wiring and metal fused into one complicated figure. Beloved Snow White was merely a servant.

I let out a scream of frustration that earns me a disgusted look from the maid on our sofa. I blow a strand of hair out of my face and stomp over to the wall, where countless frames with newspaper clippings and awards hang.

I take down a specific gold rimmed picture, gently brushing the dust off don't need the of the glass cover. Leo and Eva's angled faces are beaming brightly at me. Their arms are lovingly wrapped around each other. If only Eva did not pass away. If only Leo did not even know Dr. Grimhilde. If only I was an actual human.

Wouldn't things have been different? Better?

I sigh and hang the picture back on to its nail, taking care to use my built-in holographic protractor to see that it was straight. The next couple of frames have accomplishments of my father on them:

Leo Peter White, Graduate of Harvard University

Dr. Leo P. White: What True Success Means

The Daily News: Dr. Leo White Creates an 'Anthroid'

The last title is a clipping of the newspaper that has a high resolution image of a teenage girl with pale skin and dark ebony hair. The captions say that the first-ever anthroid's name is Snow. Me.

I smile at the newspaper and grab a strand of my hair. Raven black, like the picture shows.

A sudden noise snaps me out of my thoughts. The sound of the heavy front door being opened and closed. My lips widen so much that it feels like they'll split, and I dash to the entrance hallway as fast as I can.

"Snow!" Randy's front teeth show as he grins. "I did the exam just like how you told me to do, and I think I did great. I don't think twelfth grade AP testing is that hard. Sure, it might be a little mentally challenging, but I'm learning so much!" he rambles, making wild hand gestures as he speaks. My eyes catch them all and tries to interpret them, but I force the auto-research off and nod enthusiastically.

Oh, I forgot to mention this. Randy advanced two years ahead, so he's a senior now. He has a tiny bit of trouble with English and Biology, but the rest of his grades are perfect.

"Alright, Randy," I laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. "My hearing sensors are having a hard time catching up to you. How about we—"

"Randy," a soft and loving voice sighs. My beam slides off my face like slime thrown against a window.

"Yes, mother?" Randy replies obediently to Dr. Grimhilde.

"Someone very important is coming here soon, so will you please dress up nicely?" Dr. Grimhilde simpers, completely ignoring me. I nearly snort as she brushes his wind-swept hair into place. She obviously favors her human child, even though he's not her biological son. It clearly only matters to her that anything related to her is smart, and most importantly, human. I only fit in one category, and anyone can figure out which.

"Of course, mother," Randy says. When Dr. Grimhilde walks out of the entrance hallway, he grabs my arm and drags me upstairs, where all of the bedrooms and personal rooms are.

"Randy!" I whisper, as he directs himself to Dr. Grimhilde's study room. "We can't go in there. That's Dr. Grimhilde's room! The room where you go in, knowing you're going to die! Hello? Are you listening? Randy..."

Randy held a long finger to his lips. His eyes have a mischievous twinkle to them, one that I haven't seen in them for a long time. I sullenly give in to his request, and we quietly sneak into Dr. Grimhilde's room.

There have been studies that showed a person's room reflect's their personality. I think it is rather accurate in Dr. Grimhilde's case. Her room is dark and orderly. Books sorted by subject and size are stacked neatly on wooden shelves. Her desk has no scratches on it. All in all, it's like a neat-freak's room.

Randy tiptoes over to Dr. Grimhilde's desk and opens a drawer. Surprise, surprise, the pencils and supplies are methodically placed. However, Randy ignores all of the contents and lifts up a pencil case. I edge closer to get a better view, the thrill and excitement of breaking and entering coursing through my body. Is this was normal humans did?

Randy's nimble fingers slides under an expertly hidden paper. No, with detailed analysis, I can perceive that it's a photo. He smirks arrogantly and hands it to me. My heart thumps in irregular patterns, indicating nervousness, or possibly, anticipation. What could've driven Randy, his step-mother's pet, to go against her will?

I flip the photo over, and detect a lump rising in my throat. Leo and Eva, in the picture, is posing next to my unfinished body. They have sweat dripping off of their chin, but they wear a proud and accomplished look.

"Do you like it?" Randy murmurs, shutting the drawer.

I nod silently, my gaze still fixated on Eva's chiseled face. "Thank you," I breath, stroking the smooth and glossy faces in the photo.

"Let's go, before Mother comes back." Randy lets out a labored grunt as he stands back up after a few minutes of crouching.

I freeze, pulling Randy down again. I take advantage of my mechanism and turn on the hearing higher. Even footsteps, coming, closer, closer, and closer. An exasperated sigh, the gentle clinks of jewelry.

"It's Dr. Grimhilde," I moan, lowering my hearing back to normal. Panic and animalistic instincts took over. I scurry to the shadows of Dr. Grimhilde's closet, closely followed by Randy.

Just in time, too. By the time our feet had been slid under clothes, the door opened with an ominous creak. Dr. Grimhilde was wearing a small grin of satisfaction on her pointed face. Huh, first time in forever. In her hands, was a small cardboard box, shipped from some company.

Dr. Grimhilde half-skips, half-walks to her desk. She seizes a small pocket knife from her drawer and flicks its sharp blade out (I gulped here). The edge of the blade cleanly slices the box open, revealing . . .

A phone.

In the closet, Randy squeezes my arm, and my motion-sensitive detectors pick up a slight tremor in his hands. Poor boy, he's only fifteen. Not a good age to be caught in a secluded place with a girl, even if the girl was a machine. At least, that's what looking through people's public Facebook accounts told me.

My attention swivels back to Dr. Grimhilde, who already had turned on the phone. Its home screen was picture of an apple. Her bony thumb presses on the home button for two seconds, activating Siri.

The phone makes the familiar dinging sounds.

Dr. Grimhilde opens her mouth and slowly says, "Siri, Siri, on my phone, who is the smartest of us all?"

"Checking . . . OK, this is what I found for, 'Siri, Siri, on my phone, who is the smartest of us all?'," Siri replies crisply. "Snow White, the first-ever 'anthroid', created by Dr. Leo P. White, has a world record breaking intellectual level. She can easily match the mental prowess of humanity's geniuses, and often surpass it." 

I choke back a gasp of surprise. Meanwhile, Dr. Grimhilde, drops the phone. "S-Snow?" she stutters, staggering to her chair. "That thing? Smarter than me?" Dr. Grimhilde slams a fist down on her desk, trembling in fury.

"I will not be beaten by a pathetic anthroid!" she screeches, her fingers curling in to tight fists. "Never!"