"Whatever it is this little twerp's got," Perry continued on the subject of the mischievous otherworldly pixie, "Superman can't really handle it.  Maybe it is magic.  That was what we used to call it in the old days when Clark was with the Daily Planet and most newspapermen, except for Clark and a few others, hadn't yet discovered their responsibility to be precise in their writing.  Whatever it is, Superman's vulnerable to it.  And whatever it is, Miss Wells seems to have it or something like it in at least as great a measure as...umm—"
"Mxyzptlk," Jimmy said.
"Right."
"So what are you saying, Mr. White?"
"I'm saying, Dan, that whatever power this girl has is something from which Superman is really unable to protect us.  I'm also saying that unlike—Olsen?—"
"Mxyzptlk."
"Unlike Mix-el-plix, whatever, this girl's intentions don't involve having fun.  She has willfully waged a psychological battle against our friend Superman, taking away his clearest tie with the world around him.  She has kept him occupied with trivia ranging in seriousness from zany inconveniences like upside-down buildings and vanishing walls to genuine crises like locust plagues and epidemics of maddening eczema.  Superman knows as well as we do that she must be stopped.  I assume he hasn't yet stopped her, but simply defused what she has done so far, because of two reasons.  Firstly, he doesn't know what her intentions are and he would like to know.  Secondly, he may not have devised a way of stopping her short of killing her."
"Oh, now you're going off the deep end.  Really."  It was Jimmy Olsen, and it was immediately clear that he was sorry he had said it.
"What deep end is that?" Dan Reed asked, doing his job.
"No, I was just—"  Jimmy hesitated but saw it was not going to work.  "Well, maybe I'm wrong, but she hasn't done anything but try to get Superman's goat, as you said.  She's just more unfriendly about it.  She hasn't killed anyone, right?"
"Except Clark."  It was the first thing Lois had said since she said hello to Reed at the show's opening.
"Clark.  Well, yeah, but there wasn't an actual murder involved.  Hey, what's with everyone feeling like somebody really died?  I mean, Clark was one of my best friends—maybe my best friend—and I'm kind of really happy for him that he turned out to be Superman.  It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.  I mean, that's confusing, I guess, but I'd really like it if he'd come by sometime for lunch or coffee the way he used to.  I don't know why he doesn't."
"What would you call him?" Reed asked.
"Call him?"
"What would you call Clark Kent if he came by for a cup of coffee with you?"
"Oh, I get you, I'd say, 'Hi, Superman.'"
"That's part of the point I was making," Perry White said, picking it up again.  "If Superman masquerades as Clark secretly, he's living among us as a natural Earthman.  If, on the other hand, he puts on those glasses and we all know it's really Superman, he becomes grotesque, a dangerously schizoid personality.  Maybe one of the purposes of this Kristin Wells is to discredit Superman, to drive him past the brink of sanity.  Who's to say?"