Dak Kodak

George Eastman watched his friends leave with a bit of sadness in his heart. He knew it was going to be the last time he saw them. They were good workers, businessmen and confidants. George was going to miss them all. Without them, he knew that the entire world would have already succumbed to the Dak. Very few actually knew about the species let alone see them in their natural form. George kept that secret to himself and a scant few within his company that was founded so long ago.

He only became aware of the Dak by accident. It was during the planning of the trip to Santo Domingo. The enormous amount of devices that he was trying to pack for the trip leaked into his spare clothes and toiletries. It was too late for George to not be affected by the chemicals that had already soaked into the silk pocket-square. With eyes burning from the combination of chemicals, George Eastman’s quickly and surprisingly came into focus.

The beings seemed to shimmer into an existence without the knowledge of everyone else around them. George looked up and down the street and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Between the men and women carrying about their business throughout the day were the unspeakable things that flickered in and out of reality. Strange pops and sizzles came from them.

All together too many of the beings seemed to group together communicating in a series of flashing lights from orbs circulating around their misshapen and lumpy heads. What George took as their faces were little more than a bristly series of insect-like antennae that absorbed the light from the circulating orbs. The bristles radiated colored sparks all along the misshapen head and then arced to another of the alien’s lumpy and bristled heads to start the process all over again.

Three of the things were in tow surrounding Roland Jenkins, one of his mother’s boarders. The man was bedraggled as the sparks passed through him from one Dak to another. Jenkins’ eyes were puffy and dark circles lined his eyes as if he were punched in the nose.

“Dak skzzzzzzzzzat.”

“Dikdak,”

“Dakdak stzkozat dek-DAK.”

As he approached the house, George could see the strain on Jenkins’ face. He often complained of headaches and now George could see the cause of them. The Dak were passing their lightning through his body and soul.

It was then that George Eastman knew God’s plan for him. More pops and sizzles sounded off from further down the street. Everywhere that George looked, there were more Dak slithering in that impossible gate near people passing their lighting to each other through the men and women walking about Rochester.

Divine Providence gave him the power to see the unholy monstrosities and he knew that God would give him the tools and knowledge to somehow destroy them. George didn’t know what else to do but try to get a picture of the beasts.

As quickly as humanly possible, George Eastman began to set up the bulky mass that he was to bring to Santo Domingo with his mother. The task was important, he had to capture the image on the glass plate and get the image developed. Others had to know that these creatures, these Dak were in the world. His destiny unfolded before him within colored snaps and pops from an alien race. Colors flooded his mind as he ran. Soon, he began to understand them.

“He’szh dak-shtzzzzzztak.”

“Kidakdek shzee us!”

George prepared the plate and slid it into the wooden frame and opened the aperture to illuminate the coated glass. Immediately he regretted it. The noise on the other side of the curtain was terrible and loathsome as the Dak seemed to stop in place. High pitched screams mixed with equally loud pops and sizzles began to fill the air.

“Kodak! Kodak!”

Slowly George came out from underneath the curtain as the image burned itself into the silver salts that were coating the glass plate. He let the aperture of the camera close as many of the Dak came to a halt in the street. The color faded from their orbs and the lightning passing between them ceased. The tentacled, deformed bodies did not move as the wind took their particulate like smoke from a stack.

“Tzzzze meat hazzzt kodak uzzt!”

The sickly voice came from behind George. Turning, he faced the Dak and stared. The imprint of the alien visage burned into his mind. The Dak squelched and popped ambers and reds at George. He could only smile at the feeble attempt at the attack. He could live with a headache.

It would only take three years of experimentation for George to perfect the next stage. He, Henry Strong, and the others that were brought into the fold fought the Dak at every turn – with every picture. The secret war began in earnest in 1888 when the Kodak Camera was given to the public for only $25.00.

George looked to the window and smiled at the light shining through it. It only took five decades to defeat the Dak in the United States. Still, there was much work to be done. Every amateur and professional photographer or shutterbug was destroying the Dak with every click of the shutter. Yes, they pressed the button, Kodak did the rest.

Pain lanced George’s hands as he grabbed a pen and wrote out the note for his friends and loved ones. The scrawl simply read, “My work is done. Why wait?” George knew that some wouldn’t understand the action he was about to take. His loyal soldiers would know too well. They knew the threat the world faced.

George had to concentrate to keep his hands steady as he opened a drawer in the writing table and withdrew the pistol. The fight would go on, but it would have to go on without him. George smiled again at the light, pointed the pistol at his heart and pulled the trigger.