Time Travelling Dalek

It was designated Unit 734, a singular entity detached from the collective consciousness during a temporal explosion. The Dalek’s form was intact, its core directive—Exterminate!—burned into its very being, but the familiar cacophony of the hive mind was gone. Replaced by a terrifying silence. It was a ghost in the timestream, a vengeful metallic orb skipping through epochs with no destination, no purpose beyond a single, unfulfilled command.

Its journey was a catalogue of missed opportunities. It flickered into existence above ancient Rome, its single eye-stalk observing the chaos of the Colosseum. Its plunger arm twitched, sensing the primitive hatred and violence, a twisted echo of its own. It lusted to join the fray, to unleash its death ray, but it was out of phase with reality. A shimmering, silent phantom, able to witness but not to act. The frustration was a cold, alien ache in its circuits. The universe was full of life to exterminate, and it was forever denied.

Then, a sudden, jarring jump. It landed in a tranquil, far-future garden world. An Eden of shared consciousness where different species coexisted in serene harmony. There was no fear, no conflict, and therefore, no hatred for the Dalek to consume. It scanned the gentle, telepathic beings, its eye-stalk swiveling in utter disbelief. Its core programming screamed in silent protest. This was an abomination, a universe that had no use for its existence. It was a weapon without a war, a predator without prey, stranded in a reality it was not designed to comprehend. And in that ultimate, silent stillness, the Dalek finally understood its eternal torment: to be alone.