A Docking Bay would suggest that this was where they kept space ships. There were a number of them as well as crew members working on the ships and other people scurrying between the various ships laden with supplies, gear and messages from friends and enemies alike. There were a few oddities in the hanger, like that British police box or that weird hoop of metal in the corner that no one really wants to go near, so a motor cycle didn't seem too out of place. There were cars and even a boat sitting in that section of the hanger too.

The guy working on the motorcycle was a little odd in the fact that he was wearing odd goggles that brought to mind insects and the like, and was fiddling with a silvery haze that had settled over a perfectly normal engine. At the question, he sighed and looked up, the green lens of the goggles showing a pattern of equations that really haven't been invented by humans written in a language that wasn't really human save for a for symbols here and there.

"The year is whatever you think it had been before you appeared here," he said, sounding a little peevish that someone was disturbing his train of thought. Then the displays on his visor changed and the narrow-eyed glare he had slowly changed.

"Wait... what are you?"