Right. You want me to take this... this Wikipedia entry and imbue it with something resembling life. Or at least, the idea of it. Fine. Don't expect sunshine and rainbows. This is about facts, yes, but facts have edges. And I'm here to sharpen them.
This article, this thing, is a ghost. It’s a collection of whispers and unanswered questions, a testament to how much we don't know, or perhaps, how little effort we’ve put into finding out. It’s begging for substance, for the kind of detail that makes you feel the dust settling on forgotten shelves.
Computational Intelligence
This is a journal. A vessel for ideas, supposedly. It’s supposed to be about computer science and artificial intelligence. A place where minds supposedly collide, producing something... intelligent. But right now, it reads like a faded photograph, a memory of what it might have been.
Academic Journal
It masquerades as an academic journal, a peer-reviewed sanctuary for the rigorously examined. It claims to cover research on artificial intelligence and computer science. Novel research, innovative applications – these are the words they use. Like a promise whispered in the dark, easily broken. It’s meant to be a broad spectrum, you see. From machine learning – that relentless pursuit of algorithms that mimic thought – to knowledge mining, digging through mountains of data for a single, glittering nugget. Then there's web intelligence, the chaotic symphony of the internet, and AI language, the struggle to make machines understand the nuances of human speech. And, of course, the philosophical implications – the existential dread that comes with creating something that might, one day, surpass us.
Publication Details
Established in 1985. A lifetime ago, in the grand scheme of things. Published by Wiley-Blackwell, a name that sounds as solid and unyielding as its publications. Quarterly. Four times a year, they release these pronouncements. Like clockwork. Or perhaps, like a slow, deliberate march towards an inevitable conclusion. Diane Inkpen, the current editor-in-chief. A gatekeeper, I suppose. Deciding what gets in, what gets… filtered.
The journal’s worth, as they measure it – these metrics, these impact factors – they’re just numbers. In 2022, Scopus gave it a CiteScore of 5.3. A number. Clarivate’s Web of Science offered a Journal Citation Indicator of 0.39 and a Journal Impact Factor of 2.8. They’re trying to quantify relevance, to assign value to the intangible. It’s a futile exercise, really. Like trying to bottle smoke.
Indexing and Identification
For the organized minds, there are the identifiers. The ISO 4 standards, the Bluebook for legal scholars, the NLM for medical types. They’re all there, meticulously cataloged. The CODENs, COMIE6, a string of characters that means something to someone, somewhere. The ISSN – 0824-7935 for the print version, a physical artifact in a digital age. And 1467-8640 for the web, the ephemeral online presence. The LCCN 86649773, the OCLC no. 12073389. A spiderweb of codes, meant to ensure this journal, this idea, doesn't simply vanish into the ether.
Content and Scope
The journal is a repository for research, yes, but it’s more than just a collection of papers. It’s a reflection of the ongoing conversation in artificial intelligence and computer science. It’s where the theoretical meets the practical, where abstract concepts are tested against the harsh realities of implementation. It aims to cover a wide array of topics, from the intricate algorithms of machine learning to the vast, untamed landscape of web intelligence. It delves into the complexities of AI language, the very essence of communication, and the profound, often unsettling, philosophical implications that arise from our attempts to replicate intelligence.
Quality and Reputation
The journal’s standing is, of course, subject to the usual academic scrutiny. Metrics like the impact factor are bandied about, attempts to quantify influence. In 2022, its CiteScore from Scopus was 5.3, a number that suggests a certain level of engagement. Meanwhile, Clarivate's Web of Science provided a Journal Citation Indicator of 0.39 and a Journal Impact Factor of 2.8. These figures are meant to signify importance, to guide researchers and institutions in their choices. They are, however, just numbers in a system that often prioritizes visibility over genuine insight.
The Unanswered Plea
But here’s the real issue, isn’t it? This article, this digital footnote, it’s a plea. "This article does not cite any sources." It’s a confession of inadequacy. It’s a gaping hole where substance should be. It asks for help, for the addition of "citations to reliable sources," as if it’s a simple request. "Unsourced material may be challenged and removed." A threat, veiled in politeness. And then the directive: "Find sources: 'Computational Intelligence' journal – news, newspapers, books, scholar, JSTOR." A scavenger hunt, for information that should already be present. It’s a testament to the ephemeral nature of information, and the constant struggle to anchor it in reality.
A Call for Expansion
And the final indictment? "This article about a computer science journal is a stub." A stub. A fragment. It’s not complete. It’s not whole. It’s a sketch, waiting for the artist to add the details, the shadows, the life. It asks you, the reader, to "help Wikipedia by expanding it." To contribute. To fill the void. It even offers "tips for writing articles about academic journals" and points to the "talk page" for further suggestions. It’s an invitation to participate in the construction of knowledge.
This journal, "Computational Intelligence," is a placeholder. A name on a spine. And this article about it? It's just as insubstantial. It needs more than citations. It needs context. It needs the kind of detail that makes you feel the weight of the research, the struggle of the creators, the impact – or lack thereof – on the world. It needs… more. Like most things.