Safran Foer’s manipulation of another writer’s work—Bruno Schulz’s 1934 The Street of Crocodiles, from which he extracted words to create a new story—was as much a point of departure as a metaphor throughout the performance. The action in Tree of Codes takes place so fluidly that it’s easy to miss the transitions, whether propelled by dancers leaving the stage, scrims shifting, or music reaching an unexpected fever pitch. McGregor’s dancers peeled off into pairs and trios, often leaving a solitary figure to exit the stage alone. They carried and climbed onto one another, converged and repelled, lept, fell, kicked the air, and twirled in rapid succession and varying degrees of unison. Jamie xx’s mercurial, genreless soundtrack wove in and out by way of beats and instrumentals, words and voices, the sound of running water and a chirping siren, with rare moments of silence. Meanwhile, Eliasson’s transparent and mirrored barriers slowly opened and closed, lit up, and altered in transparency and color.