The Engineer Building His Own Obsolescence: A DeepSeek Insider’s Existential Crisis
In September 2026, the global developer community paused to read a confession that felt uncomfortably close to home. Liu Shengyu, a machine-learning systems (MLSys) engineer at DeepSeek, published an essay on his WeChat account titled ‘I Have No Choice but to Bury My Talent in Yesterday.’
It was not a corporate press release or a marketing stunt. It was a raw, unfiltered look at the existential dread that is quietly permeating the offices of the world’s most advanced AI labs. Liu described a reality that many engineers have been whispering about in Slack channels and Reddit threads: the AI they are building is no longer just a tool—it is becoming their successor.
The Death of the Craft: When AI Masters the Kernel
For years, software engineering has been defined by the pursuit of mastery. We spend years learning the intricacies of our specific domains—whether it is kernel optimization, distributed systems, or memory management. We take pride in the ‘craft.’
Liu’s essay struck a nerve because he specifically highlighted that AI can now read GPU code and optimize software operators—tasks that were once the exclusive domain of highly skilled human engineers. For a specialist, this is not just a productivity boost; it is an identity crisis. When the machine can optimize the very foundation of the software you write, what is left for the human?
This isn’t just about ‘AI automation’ taking low-level tasks; it is about the erosion of the unique human value proposition in technology. The ‘agentic’ workflows that are currently emerging can handle complex kernel optimization tasks that previously required years of experience. As these tools become publicly available and more refined, the gap between the expert and the novice shrinks. For many, this feels less like progress and more like the slow dismantling of a career path that took decades to build.
The ‘Cyberpunk’ Fear: Open vs. Closed
So, why does Liu keep building? Why push forward if you know you are coding yourself into obsolescence?
His answer is one of the most compelling arguments for the open-source movement in recent memory. Liu explicitly stated that he continues this work because he fears a ‘cyberpunk’ future—a world where advanced AI is locked away behind the gates of a few powerful corporations, such as Anthropic or OpenAI. He views the ‘pacing’ and ‘safety’ arguments often used by Western labs as potential power plays, a way to maintain a monopoly on the most powerful technology in human history.
This is the core of the ‘Open vs. Closed’ debate. On one side, you have the ‘safety-focused’ firms arguing that we must slow down to ensure alignment. On the other, you have ‘accelerationists’ and open-source advocates like Liu, who argue that the only way to prevent ‘AI tyranny’ is to make frontier AI ‘open and affordable.’
From this perspective, the existential fear of job loss is secondary to the existential fear of corporate hegemony. The decision to build is not just about the work; it is a defensive act, a way to ensure that the future of intelligence is distributed rather than centralized.
The Human Element: Beyond the Geopolitics
While much of the media coverage has focused on the ‘China vs. US’ geopolitical angle, the community reaction tells a different story. Across platforms like r/LocalLLaMA and r/artificial, the conversation has been remarkably human-centric. Engineers from all over the world are resonating with the sense of ‘sadness’ that Liu described.
It is a rare, transparent glimpse into the mindset of a frontier AI lab. In the West, we are accustomed to polished, corporate-sanctioned narratives about AI. Liu’s essay broke that mold. It reminded us that the people building the future are not just cogs in a corporate machine; they are individuals grappling with the irony of their own success.
Some critics have debated whether this is a genuine personal crisis or a calculated PR move by DeepSeek to position itself as the ‘ethical’ alternative to Western labs. Yet, even if it were a strategic move, the resonance of the message remains. The feeling of loss—the loss of a beloved craft—is universal.
Reflecting on Our Role in the Ecosystem
As we look toward the future, the ‘DeepSeek crisis’ serves as a mirror for the entire tech industry. It forces us to ask: What are we building, and for whom?
If you are a software engineer today, you are likely standing at a crossroads. You can choose to ignore the encroaching automation, or you can lean into the shift. But perhaps the most important question is whether you are contributing to a future that is ‘closed’—guarded by a few giants—or ‘open,’ where the tools of intelligence are accessible to all.
We are living through a period of immense technological upheaval. The ‘quiet afternoons’ of traditional software development may indeed be over. But as Liu Shengyu’s journey shows, there is still a choice to be made. We can either fear the future and try to slow it down, or we can shape it to ensure that the power of AI remains in the hands of the many, rather than the few.
Ultimately, the AI arms race is not just a battle for market share; it is a battle for the soul of the industry. Whether we end up in a ‘cyberpunk’ dystopia or a new era of human empowerment depends largely on the decisions made by the engineers who are building the future today.
