Scientists’ Moral Responsibility and Dangerous Technology R&D 125 in most of the developed world. Despite the philosophical status of debates regarding the Belmont principles, they are in effect already enacted, accepted as part of the background of all human-subjects research, and devised as a hurdle that must be overcome when proposing new experiments involving human subjects. While ethical lapses still occur, as we have seen with such widely-disseminated stories as that of Jessie Gelsinger, we can now gauge the conduct (or misconduct) of researchers involved in these lapses, and educate researchers about how to avoid them in the future. In other contexts, both laws and moral codes do not prevent every harm, but provide contexts for judgments when harms occur. Laws and moral codes still serve to educate, and when agreed upon generally, frame our moral debates over particular acts, intentions, and consequences. These principles are not unique to the realm of bioethics. They frame many of our everyday acts and intentions, and serve as the basis for both moral and social education and regulation in our everyday lives. Despite their expression and adoption in the realm of ‘‘bioethics,’’ what prevents their application to other ﬁelds of investigation? Perhaps it is because the sciences outside biomedicine have had fewer public and noteworthy instances where research has caused visible harms. The deaths or injuries of human subjects used in research typically cause public outrage and provoke action. Research which has no such immediate consequence is unlikely to get that sort of notice. But does this mean that the Belmont principles are not more generally applicable? If we believe that these principles have no application outside of biomedical research involving human subjects, then we must justify some moral horizon for intentions and acts of scientists. In other words, we would have to justify ignoring the potential for misuse or harms to those not immediately within the control of the researcher, even where those harms might well outweigh or outnumber harms posed to potential human subjects. To put this into context, let’s consider a ﬁctional technology at the center of Kurt Vonnegut’s well-know breakthrough novel, Cat’s Cradle. In this novel, a ﬁctional scientist named Felix Hoenikker discovers a permutation of water that is solid at room temperature. He hides his discovery before he dies, but the secret remains in the possession of his children. Ice-nine possesses the ability to turn any body of water solid given that a single molecule of it will ‘‘teach’’ all other molecules next to it to become ice-nine, creating a chain-reaction that freezes any body of water with which it makes contact. It does the same to any water in an organism’s body if ingested. The ﬁctional ice-nine is clearly a terrifying scientiﬁc discovery. Vonnegut based the character Hoenikker on the Nobel Prize-winning Irving Langmuir, whom Vonnegut knew through his brother’s association with Langmuir at General Electric. Of Langmuir, Vonnegut said: ‘‘[he] was absolutely indifferent to the uses that might be made of the truths he dug out of the rock and handed out to whomever was around. But any truth he found was beautiful in its own right, and he didn’t give a damn who got it next’’ (Musil 1980). In the book, ice-nine inevitably gets released into the environment essentially bringing about the end of the world, all life on it, and all but a handful of people who manage to survive. The research on, and discovery of ice-nine would never have fallen under the purview of bioethical principles as enunciated in the Belmont Report. While ice-nine is ﬁctional, smallpox is not and it poses many of the same questions, 123