Imagine what it must be like to be the holodeck operator in Brooklyn. You have only so many physical concepts, data points and ingredients to work with, but you have to mix, match, recombine, reconstitute, alternate, fudge, slip, slide and Abednego so that you have what will be on average considered to be an actual new product of spiritual food at the proper time. You have a temporal radius of 6000 years: draw a line from that act of creation to the present and you have a Hawking light cone of increasing geographic radius centered, for basically all of history, on one tiny subset of homo sapiens who happened to have written one of the more intriguing, zesty and occasionally compelling narratives. A couple of Roman accidents later, and lo, post hoc ergo propter hoc absolutely demonstrates that the emergence of the JWs was written in frikin stone before God thunk of getting out of bed. And you have to mix and match so well that there appears to be actual variety or granularity that can compete, nay, supercede the granularity of questions on the scale of where the Native Americans came from. It is a constant battle of switch-hitting between the right-handed sword of logos, using modern science to point to some divine creation, and then in a split second using the shield of faith to deny that modern science can penetrate 'assured realities'. Sun Tzu would be so proud of this legerdemain that he'd roll in his grave. That has got to be one busy, dirty, thankless job. Mike Rowe should do an episode in Brooklyn.