Absence

Absence combines near future cosmological mysteries with the psychology of living under the apocalypse. The problem of people suddenly vanishing to parts unknown with no warning and no more sign than the gentle “pop” of air closing the void where they once were. Billions have vanished, and the threat of going at any moment has reshaped modern life.

Our protagonist, Harvey Ellis, is an agent with the Bureau of Depopulation Affairs, a new government agency charged with managing the collapse. His mundane job is certifying that people are really gone so the survivors can collect the benefits, and sorting out proper pops from mundane murders and runaways. It’s not an easy job, holding the state together against conspiracy theorists, cultists, and good old fashioned denial, but someone has to do it.

Harvey’s routine is interrupted when a small town in Kansas reports a Return. No one has ever come back from popping, and more than a decade after vanishing from a high school bathroom, Gabriella Reyes could save the world, or finally destroy it, depending on if she’s telling the truth or what brand of lie she’s telling.

Harvey and his partner Shonda (another BDA agent who he’s having an affair with. What are the rules when the world is ending?) venture into the pressure cooker of a small town with a traumatic history to divine the truth. The mystery is X-Files flavored, but where Hudson excels is drawing out the little details of the world, like the apps people use to track that they’re still present, or the return of Amtrak since suddenly driverless cars and pilotless planes are too dangerous for mundane travel.

The mood is perfect. Hudson is one of the leading figures in the genre of climate fiction, and in Absence the metaphor isn’t particularly subtle, but he has enough respect for the reader not to make it didactic. There’s nothing that the people of this world can do about depop except manage the consequences. The uncertainties are truly cosmological. Climate is a lot more mundane, even if coming to emotional grips with climate rather than mere weather is out there. But the worst part of my life, at least, is having to get up and go and grapple with spreadsheets rather than the next few decades, because the psychological weight is too high. Absence slides in under that door.

And it’s a damn fine novel, one that I finished over a pleasant Saturday, which is something I haven’t done in a while.