What Was That Strange Asian Child Doing in the ‘Severance’ Office?

Pity the American office worker: overworked, undervalued and kept in the dark about the true intentions of his employer, which are somehow weirder and more odious than he could possibly know. The beauty of the corporate-culture satire “Severance” lies in just how universal, how quotidian, its protagonist’s gripes are. On some cosmic level, Mark Scout wants to investigate the aims of his mysteriously tight-lipped company. Day to day, though, he must slog away at unsatisfying and impenetrable tasks, browbeaten by a series of cold, uncaring bosses. Who hasn’t been there?

This season made a curious new addition to that line of Big Bad Bosses — a puzzle-box of a character, more loaded with menace than any of the middle managers who came before. Introduced, without fanfare, in the season’s premiere, “Miss Huang” is a steely Asian girl who, despite not looking old enough to enter PG-13 movies on her own, is apparently responsible for managing Mark and his adult colleagues. “Why are you a child?” someone asks, to which she only replies: “Because of when I was born.” Miss Huang is given no further explanation. She orders employees around, unsmiling, in her prim adolescent voice and middle-schooler knee socks, then plays with a hand-held water-ring-toss toy at her desk, all the more chilling for her lack of justification.

But we are meant to make some assumptions. Miss Huang is orderly, diligent, quick-witted. She shows not a pinch of personality, so her talents must lie in sheer intelligence or efficacy. We can infer by her position that she has excelled beyond her years in some way — that she is precocious, perhaps even a prodigy. Standing quietly in the corner, eyeing the staff, she occasionally looks forlorn, a kind of executive waif, yet the overall effect is of sinister vigilance. You suspect coiled ambition, backstabbery in waiting. “When I played her, I didn’t feel very scary,” the actress Sarah Bock said in an interview. “But at the end of the day, crew members would come up to me like: ‘You freaked me out. You’re terrifying.’”

The threat Miss Huang poses is more spectral.

Watching this strange corporate poppet float around all season long, injecting scenes with an aura of ominous efficiency and little else, I kept having the thought that I knew her, somehow.

And we have seen Miss Huang before — shades of her, at least. We have seen her in model students like Sanjay Patel on “Modern Family,” Cho Chang in “Harry Potter” (a Ravenclaw, naturally) and all the nameless TV Asian kids who effortlessly win spelling bees or chess tournaments. We have seen the top-of-their-class Asian doctors of “Grey’s Anatomy,” “House” and “E.R.” We have seen punchlines of ultracapability like “Asian Annie” on “Community” — the only person able to usurp the already-overachieving white Annie — or the high-ponytailed Joy Lin on “Girls,” who gets picked for a job over Lena Dunham’s Hannah because, while less personable, she knows how to use Adobe Photoshop. There is the corrupt accountant Lau in “The Dark Knight,” to whom Gotham’s mob bosses outsource their money laundering because he is “good with calculation,” and the geneticist Dr. Henry Wu, whose brilliance unleashes the hell of “Jurassic Park.” These are all wildly different characters in wildly different entertainments, but their Asianness is deployed to the same effect: as a shorthand for intellectual ability and über-proficiency.